“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” the duke replied. “And it is a joy to see you again, too, Lady Evermere.” He took Eleanor’s hand and raised it to his lips for a second before releasing it.
“And, of course, you remember our daughter, Lady Isabella,” Eleanor said.
The duke turned to look at Isabella. “Of course I remember Lady Isabella,” he said smoothly, dropping a low bow before her. “How could anyone forget such a captivating young lady?”
Isabella blushed and forced herself to look into his eyes. They were a pale blue, almost the colour of ice, like the lake on the estate when it was frozen in winter. She felt a shiver running down her spine. She could not help thinking there was a rather calculating air about him, as he looked at her. She tried not to think about it too deeply, though; probably she was just imagining things, she told herself.
“I am very pleased to see you again, Your Grace,” she said as demurely as she could. “Welcome to Evermere. I hope that you enjoy the evening very much.”
He smiled at her. His thin lips curled upwards, but she saw the smile not reach his eyes. “The thing that would help me to enjoy the ball the most, Lady Isabella, is if you would permit me the honour of the first dance this evening?”
Isabella felt her mother tense with excitement next to her. She felt the ridiculousness of the situation rather keenly at that moment; of course, the duke was going to ask her for the first dance. He could not really do anything other than that since everyone was clearly viewing him as a serious suitor for her hand. Yet they all had to go through this charade of pretending that it was a surprise and a great honour for him to ask her for the first dance.
But she did not allow her feelings to show on her face. Instead, she dropped a small curtsy, looked up at him, and smiled again. Her cheeks were aching now with all the smiling she was having to do, and the evening had only just begun. “Your Grace, I would be delighted,” she replied.
He nodded curtly as if he had expected nothing other than her acceptance. “I shall look forward to it.” Then he turned away and walked into the ballroom, not looking back.
Isabella let out a puff of air. She realized that throughout the interaction with the duke, she had been tensing her shoulders and almost holding her breath. Now that he was gone, she could relax for a moment at least. But there was still no sign of the gentleman from the library, and she knew that she would not be truly happy until she had set eyes on his face again and learnt his name at last.
***
The duke strode through the ballroom, heading directly for the refreshment table. He was not a great lover of balls in general, but they were something of a necessary evil, and he accepted them as such. But he was very glad to have a glass of champagne in his hand to take the edge off things.
He thought about Lady Isabella and the dance they would share in due course. There was no doubt in his mind that they would attract attention when they were seen on the dance floor together. She was the beautiful daughter of an earl and the host of the ball, and he was an eligible duke.
He would scoff at such talk amongst his friends, but he knew how the young ladies of thetonviewed him and their mothers, too. He knew there was a great deal of interest in which young lady he was going to choose to become the Duchess of Harbridge, and that what happened this evening would be the talk of all the breakfast tables in polite society tomorrow morning.
And Lady Isabella was the perfect candidate to become his duchess, he thought. She was very pretty, with her long neck and her well-cut gown. He could not deny that he had enjoyed looking at her and also rather enjoyed her blushes when she realized that his gaze was lingering on parts of her body where perhaps it should not have lingered.
But her beauty was not the most important factor. She was well-brought-up and well-connected. A duke could not just marry any young lady, of course. Her breeding had to be right, and she had to be his equal, at the very least.
The Earl of Evermere was rich. No one was in any doubt about that. His estate was large and well-appointed, and he had had some success in trade and industry. No doubt Lady Isabella had an impressive dowry, and her stature in society was just what he was looking for in a wife. All he was looking for, in fact.
As he looked around the ballroom, his mind wandered. Some years ago now, he had been in a ballroom just like this. And Eliza had been there, too. Beautiful, sweet Eliza. Really, he had known that their attachment could never end in a happy marriage. His feelings for her were too strong and untamed like a burning flame threatening to ignite everything around it.
He had loved her from the first moment he met her at a garden party. He had convinced himself that it did not matter that her father was only just a gentleman, having made his fortune in trade. He had stature enough for both of them, with his title and the dukedom it brought with it.
And that night at the ball, he had been planning to propose to her. He was determined to speak to her alone first before speaking to her father, as he wanted to be sure that it was what she really wanted. He had managed to entice her out onto the balcony, to speak with her privately, even though he knew he should not have gone outside without a chaperone.
But when he spoke to her of his love and desire to make her his wife, his duchess, she laughed. She, the daughter of a tradesman, had laughed in the face of a duke! She had told him that her heart already belonged to another, the son of a business connection of her father’s.
When she had seen the heartbreak on his face, she had at least had the decency to apologize for misleading him, but he did not stay to listen. He had fled from the balcony, strode through the ballroom, and out into the night air to nurse his broken heart alone.
And from that moment on, he had promised himself that he would never fool himself into believing that marriage could be anything other than a union of assets, a business deal. For a man like him, a duke, it was not a matter of emotion or the finer feelings of the heart. He would not allow himself to get swept away by his feelings ever again.
He hoped that Lady Isabella saw things the way that he did. But he accepted that perhaps, if she was as silly as many other young ladies were about these things, he would have to try to convince her that he was in love with her.
He drained his champagne glass and took a slow breath. He could pretend if he had to. He would try to convince Lady Isabella of his affections and make her his wife. Their union would help to solidify his legacy in the world as a nobleman of importance. No one would ever make a fool of him again.
***
Isabella felt as if the line of people parading past them into the ballroom would never end. She seemed to be standing there for hours, smiling and curtsying and wishing everyone an enjoyable evening.
In a flash of insight, she realized this was probably what it would be like to be a duchess. A lady in that position in society would have to host an endless round of parties, balls, and dinners.
She wondered if she was really cut out for that sort of life. In her heart, she would have preferred to be hidden away in the library with a book. But she knew her duty, as an earl’s daughter, and she forced herself to continue smiling and playing the part she knew her parents expected of her.
The stream of people appeared to be slowing, and Isabella felt a surge of relief. She was looking forward to taking a moment to relax, perhaps to chat with Daphne for a while before the dancing began.
