They had promised they would be early, and she could not help feeling that her entrance might have been less overwhelming if she had had them beside her.
“That Duke fellow is not escorting you tonight?” Noah asked, with a small smile, as if remembering Edmund’s rude behavior at the dinner party.
Isolde swallowed thickly, for she had done everything within her power to trynotto think of Edmund. At least, that was what she was telling herself, though he was the first face she had looked for in the crowd, and a sinking sensation of disappointment had weighed in her stomach when she had not been able to spot him.
If I could just look into his eyes, I would know if the gown came from him…
Despite herself, she looked for him again, scouring the Roman-themed ballroom for the shine of those sapphire blue eyes or the sweep of those luscious, dark auburn curls, or the stern expression of that infuriatingly handsome face.
“He was supposed to escort me again, at my brother’s behest,” she said tightly, her heart thudding an uneasy rhythm, “but he had other business to attend to.”
It embarrassed her to imagine the look that had been on her face when her mother had informed her that it would only be the two of them. Isolde had descended the stairs with nervous anticipation, expecting him to be waiting in the entrance hall ashe had done on previous occasions, so he would be the first to see the gown.
Instead, she had been faced with her mother, complaining that they were going to be late when, if anything, they were unfashionably early.
“I see,” Noah said flatly.
Isolde cleared her dry throat, fidgeting with the scalloped, dark blue lace that fringed her capped sleeves. For an awful moment, she feared that Noah was not going to say anything else, leaving them in that silent awkwardness for the foreseeable.
Noah finally took a sip of his drink, his shoulders relaxing. “I apologize if I seem less conversational than the last time we saw one another. My sister and mother had something of a quarrel before I departed, and I cannot stop thinking of them at home, tearing one another to pieces.”
“Oh goodness!” Isolde blinked. “It sounds rather serious.”
Noah shrugged. “They are perpetually at odds with one another, but there was… a thrown vase this evening, which is new.”
“May I ask what caused the argument?”
“My mother is insisting on employing the services of a matchmaker, though my sister only debuted last year. She refuses to attend society events, you see, and has grand dreamsof being a writer. She has the talent, that cannot be denied, but my mother cannot be convinced.” Noah tugged at his collar as if it were too tight. “My mother informed my sister that the matchmaker would be coming tomorrow. Chaos ensued.”
Isolde gazed at the man beside her, not with attraction or flirtation but with the greatest sympathies. “I am so very sorry, Lord Mentrow. Can it not be helped? Are you worried that she might flee?”
“I do not know,” he replied with a sigh. “I think itcouldbe remedied, but… No, it is not your concern. I should not trouble you with my woes when there are revels to be had. Indeed, I should be asking you to dance.”
A funny feeling wriggled in Isolde’s chest as she observed Noah more closely. He did not have the same eager quality of some of the gentlemen she had entertained, nor did he appear to have an ulterior motive for being so sweet to her, but his words had just waved a rather interesting flag in her mind.
To help his sister, he must marry and marry quickly.It saddened her, to think that someone else’s happiness rested onhischoice of a wife. Then again, her own situation was not so different.
“I do not suppose you were in the gardens of Kensington Palace on the night of the debut ball, were you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Noah frowned. “Me? No. I stayed in the ballroom with my sister, who did not want to be there. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” She smiled. “I am sorry for your sister’s predicament.”
“As am I.” Noah hesitated, taking a larger gulp from his drink. “I do not suppose you would do me the honor of dancing with me, would?—”
“Excuse me, Lord Mentrow,” a gruff voice interrupted, a rough hand closing around Isolde’s upper arm. “I must borrow Lady Isolde for a moment.”
Noah frowned up at Edmund’s grim face, before his gaze flitted to Isolde. She knew what he was thinking:I thought you said he was not in attendance tonight.
But Isolde was just as surprised as Noah. Even more so, as Edmund pulled her away without another word.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
What now?Edmund asked himself, spurred on by a feeling that could only be madness.
He had no viable explanation for pulling Isolde away from Noah, just as he had no idea why he was leading her to the opposite side of the room. He just… kept walking, tugging her along with him, as if they were on important business. And the more he struggled for some sort of reason that she would accept, the more rationale slipped away from him.
“What are you doing, Edmund?” Isolde hissed, as he pulled to a halt beside the French doors that led out onto a pretty marble terrace.
