Daphne shrugged. “I cannot say I had noticed,” she replied.
Isabella stared at her. “But they are so beautiful, with the evergreen foliage and the white flowers! I will not tell her that you haven’t even noticed them; she would be mortified, after all the effort she has put in to make things look so festive and beautiful.”
Daphne grinned. “I just think there are more important things to be focusing our attention on this evening rather than gazing at the flowers the whole time.”
Isabella sighed. “I suppose you are right,” she admitted. She knew she was supposed to be thinking about the various gentlemen present and trying to make a good impression. Her mother would be expecting her to be making more of an effort with the Duke of Harbridge, but she simply could not bring herself to go and talk to him, even though she could see him looking at her from the other side of the room.
“I wonder if Lord Ashcroft will dance with Felicity again,” she mused out loud.
Daphne glanced at her curiously. “You seem rather preoccupied with Lord Ashcroft.”
Isabella hesitated, unsure how much to confess to her friend. The truth was that she could not stop thinking about him, and it was taking every ounce of effort she could summon up to prevent herself from spending the whole evening looking around the room to see where he was and what he was doing.
She felt, though, that it would be wise to hold back from admitting, even to Daphne, the full extent of his impact upon her. “I simply find him interesting, that’s all,” she murmured.
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “But you do not find the duke interesting?”
Isabella glanced across the room towards where the duke was still talking to her father. “It is not really a matter of whether I find him interesting,” she replied. “I do not know him well enough to have formed a strong opinion yet.” As soon as she said the words, though, she knew it was a lie.
All her instincts told her that there was something cold and almost calculating about the duke, and she could not help comparing it to the open conversation in the library with Lord Ashcroft, and how easy it was to be in his company.
“Do you think he will ask you to dance again?” Daphne said.
“Who?” Isabella said, a flurry of confusion clouding her brain. She had not even danced with Lord Ashcroft yet; how could he ask her again?
“The duke, of course,” Daphne replied. “Gosh, you really are not yourself this evening, Isabella. Have you had too much punch?”
Isabella shook her head. “No, indeed. It is rather strong, though, isn’t it?” She took a sip of the spiced, fruity liquid from the glass in her hand and felt its tang on her tongue. She promised herself that she would not have another glass after this one; she wanted to stay in control of her faculties for the rest of the evening in case she got to speak to Lord Ashcroft again.
“Will you be alright on your own if I go to the retiring room?” Daphne asked.
“Of course,” Isabella replied, feeling a slight surge of relief at the thought of having a moment to herself. Daphne was right; she was not feeling entirely herself this evening.
As she stood slowly sipping her drink, she sensed eyes on her. She looked over to the other side of the room, where she knew Lord Ashcroft had been standing a few moments ago. She had deliberately been trying not to look in his direction, but it was as if his presence was pulling her towards him somehow.
He was watching her closely, and she saw there was an almost smouldering intensity in his brown eyes. She could not tear her eyes away from him, and her heart began to race as she watched him starting to walk towards her.
***
Sebastian had been watching Lady Isabella across the crowded room for some time. He had a sneaking feeling that she could tell he was looking at her, although she seemed determined to avoid his gaze.
She looked perfect in her dusky pink gown, which fitted her petite figure perfectly. Sebastian could not help thinking that she was the most beautiful woman in the room, and he felt drawn towards her in almost a mystical way. But he held back, watching and waiting for the right moment to approach her.
Somehow, he had to find out the truth. And Lady Isabella could well provide the key.
He thought for a moment, and as the musicians began to play the opening notes of a waltz, he realized that the time for thinking was over. Now, it was time for action.
He strode across the room towards her, their eyes locked together. He thought that nothing could divert him now from his path. He could not have stopped himself, even if he wanted to. She stared at him, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide with anticipation.
As soon as he reached her, he bowed. “Lady Isabella, may I request the pleasure of this dance?”
She nodded. “Of course, Lord Ashcroft, it would be my pleasure.”
He thought there was a tremble in her voice as she answered him. He took her gloved hand and led her towards the dance floor, his heart rate starting to quicken.
“You have permission to waltz?” he asked her in a low voice. He had simply assumed that she did; otherwise, she would not have agreed to accompany him in this dance, but he thought it best to make sure.
“Indeed,” she said with a shy smile.
