“Come in.” Gabriella stepped backwards, waving them inside, her regard still fixed on Aiden.
Minutes later, with their coats turned over to a waiting maid, they all strode toward the back of the house and entered a small parlor. Helena, lovely and regal, was perched upon the champagne-colored settee like a queen surveying her subjects from her throne. And Baron occupied the largest armchair, his salt-and-pepper hair—more salt now than the last time she’d seen him—gleaming under the light thrown by a chandelier.
Their conversation ended when Gabriella appeared with Darius, Aiden and Isobel in tow. Slowly, Baron stood, and Isobel just managed to refrain from frowning. Though still tall and handsome, his frame seemed thinner, even a little more...fragile. And perhaps the most shocking change was that the hard, condemning expression that had been his norm when forced to share the air with her was not in attendance. By no means was his gaze welcoming, but it definitely didn’t carry the harshness it formerly had.
But the censure his demeanor lacked, Helena’s more than made up for. She rose as well, her scrutiny as frigid and sharp as an icicle. Her mouth formed a flat, disapproving line, and for a moment Isobel almost believed she’d stumbled back in time. Gage’s mother had disliked her on sight, and like a fine wine, the dislike had only aged. Into hatred.
Suddenly Isobel’s arms tightened around Aiden, flooded with the need to shield him, protect him. And herself. He was her lodestone, reminding her that she was no longer that timid, impressionable girl from the past.
“Darius.” Baron crossed the room, his hand extended. Darius clasped it, and they pulled each other close for a quick but loving embrace. Then the older man turned toward her, and even with his lack of animosity, she braced herself. “Isobel, welcome back to our home.” He stretched his hand toward her, and after a brief hesitation, she accepted it, her heart pulsing in her throat. His grip squeezed around her fingers, rendering her speechless, the gesture the most warmth he’d ever shown her. “And this is Aiden.”
Awe saturated his deep baritone, the same wonder that had filtered through his daughter’s in the foyer. His nostrils flared, his fingers curling into his palms as if he fought the need to reach out and touch her son. Clearing his throat, Baron switched his gaze back to Isobel.
“He has your eyes, but his features... It’s like looking at a baby picture of my son,” he rasped. “May I...?” He held his arms out toward Aiden.
Nerves jingled in her belly, but the plea in the man’s eyes trumped them. “Aiden? Do you want to go to Mr. Baron?” She loosened her grip on her son and tried to hand him, but the child clung harder to her as he shook his head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling regret at the flash of disappointment and hurt in the man’s gaze. “He’s a little shy around new people.”
“A shame,” Gabriella murmured behind her.
Isobel stiffened, a stinging retort dancing on the tip of her tongue. But Darius interceded, tossing a quelling glance toward Gage’s sister over his shoulder. With an arched eyebrow and open hands, he silently requested to take Aiden. Dipping her chin, she passed her son to Darius, who practically launched himself into the man’s arms. Aiden popped his thumb back into his mouth, grinning at Darius around it.
“Well, how about that,” Baron whispered. “He certainly seems to have taken to you.”
Darius shrugged, sweeping a hand down Aiden’s small back. “It doesn’t take long for him to warm up. And once he does, he’ll talk your ear off.” He poked Aiden’s rounded tummy, and the boy giggled.
The cheerful, innocent sound stole into Isobel’s heart, as it’d had done from the very first time she’d heard it.
“I have to admit, he does resemble Gage,” Helena said, appearing at her husband’s side, studying Aiden. “Isobel.” She nodded, before dismissing her and turning to Darius, an affectionate smile thawing her expression. “Darius.” She tilted her head, and he brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I haven’t seen you in days. But it seems you have time for everyone else.” She tapped him playfully on the chest. “Beverly Sheldon told me how she saw you at the Livingstons’ dinner party. And how Shelly Livingston couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself.” Helena chuckled as if immensely amused by Shelly Livingston’s grabby hands.
Isobel fought not to react to the first shot fired across the bow. It hadn’t taken long at all. She thought Helena or Gabriella would’ve at least waited until after drinks before they got in the first dig, but apparently the “you’re an interloper and don’t belong, darling”portion of the evening had begun.
Yet her purpose—letting Isobel know that Darius had attended a social event without her on his arm, probably out of shame—had struck true. Which was as inane as that flash of jealousy with Gabriella. Pretending to be the newly engaged, loving couple hadn’t been a part of their bargain. He could do as he wanted, escort whom he wanted, flirt with whom he wanted...sleep with whom he wanted. It didn’t matter to her.
Liar.
Flipping her once again intrusive, know-it-all subconscious the middle finger, she shored up the walls surrounding her heart.
“Beverly Sheldon gossips too much and needs to find a hobby,” Darius replied, frowning. “It was an impromptu business dinner, not a party, and I’m sure Shelly’s fiancé, who also attended with her father, would’ve had some objections if she ‘couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself.’”
Helena waved his explanation off with a flick of her fingers and another laugh. “Well, you’re a handsome man, Darius. It’s not surprising women flock to you.”
“Helena,” Baron said, a warning heavy in her name.
“Now, don’t ‘Helena’ me, Baron.” She tsked, brushing her husband’s arm before strolling off toward the bar across the room. “Would anyone like a drink?”
Good God. This was going to be a really long evening.
“Have you decided on whether or not you’ll acquire SouthernCare Insurance?” Baron asked Darius, reclining in his chair as one of the servants placed an entrée plate in front of him.
Isobel let the business talk float over her, as she had most of the discussions around the dinner table. If the topics weren’t about business, then it was Helena and Gabriella speaking about people and events Isobel didn’t know anything about, and neither woman had made the attempt to draw her into the conversation. Not that she minded. The less they said to each other, the better the chance of Isobel making it through this dinner without emotional injuries from their sly innuendoes.
Still, right now she envied her son. By the time dinner was ready to be served, Aiden had been nodding off in Darius’s arms. He’d taken Aiden to one of the bedrooms and settled him in. Aiden had escaped this farce of a family dinner, but she hadn’t been as lucky.
Mimicking Baron, Isobel shifted backward, granting the servant plenty of room to set down her plate of food. When she saw the food, she barely managed not to flinch. Prime rib, buttered asparagus and acorn squash.
Gage’s favorite meal.
She lifted her head and met Helena’s arctic gaze. So the choice hadn’t been a coincidence. No, it’d been deliberate, and just another way to let Isobel know she hadn’t been forgiven.
