Clarissa gave a huff of laughter. “Yes, but I suspect she’s right. Chaperoning each other is sufficient for some occasions, but not for grand balls and things like that.” She returned to the fragrant cream she was working on.
“But Lady Tarrant has often chaperoned us.”
“Yes, when she’s also attending the same event. But we cannot expect Lady Tarrant to accompany us everywhere,” Clarissa reminded her. “She’s newly married to that lovely man, and has her own life to lead.”
“I know,” Izzy admitted glumly. “And I suppose, having recently finished sponsoring her goddaughter’s come-out, she must be fed up with having to play the chaperone. I would be.” She picked up a bowl of some herbal mix,sniffed and put it down with a snap. “Oh, it’s all so stupid—we’ve been doing fine up ’til now without a permanent chaperone interfering with everything we do.”
“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Clarissa said placidly. “Lord Salcott has made the decision and we’ll just have to hope this woman works out. Now, pass me the third little bottle from the end—yes, that one. It’s essence of orange blossom. I’m trying something new.”
Chapter Twelve
Over the next few days, it became clear to Izzy that Lord Salcott was very serious about ensuring they—she—didn’t step out of line. He turned up at every event—and how he always seemed to know where they were going was a source of endless speculation.
The first time she saw him turn up, Izzy had been quite pleased. She’d enjoyed their walk in the park, and thought he was softening toward them. She was gradually coming to terms with the notion of a chaperone, but was reserving judgment on the actual person he hired, whom they hadn’t met yet.
But though he’d greeted them on arrival at the first party, he made no further move to speak to either of them, not even to invite them to dance, which had surprised her.
The second party they attended that week, it was the same. He occasionally chatted to this person or that, but he didn’t dance with anyone. Mostly what he did was stand and watch her and Clarissa in a way that Izzy foundincreasingly irritating. It was clear he wasn’t attending these events for his own enjoyment. Then why come at all?
The answer, to Izzy, was becoming clear.
Now they were at their third party and, “There he is again,” Izzy muttered. They’d been at Lady Benton’s for a bare half hour. “What does he think we’re going to do that he needs to spy on us?”
Tall and elegant in immaculate evening wear, Lord Salcott leaned against a decorative column, gazing across the crowded room with those mesmerizing flinty gray eyes.
Clarissa laughed. “He’s not spying. He explained to me that, as my guardian, it’s his duty to protect me, and you know what? I quite like it. He doesn’t interfere in what we’re doing, and he makes me feel safe.”
“ ‘Safe’?” Izzy echoed incredulously. “How can you feel safe with those icy gray eyes boring into you all the time?”
Clarissa laughed again. “They’re not boring intome,” she said meaningfully.
Izzy flushed and tossed her head. “If you mean he’s watching me all the time, I don’t believe it. Or if he is, it’s because he doesn’t trust me.”
Clarissa shook her head and, smiling, strolled away to join another group. Lord Salcott’s gaze didn’t shift away from Izzy. He was definitely watching her.
But Izzy didn’t think it was the sort of interest that Clarissa was imagining—Clarissa was a romantic. Lord Salcott didn’t feel that way about Izzy—his reaction that night when Milly had appeared and claimed he’d compromised Izzy had proved that. He’d run like a rabbit.
Izzy had been utterly beguiled by the magic of his kisses that night, but she’d realized since that it had been the magic of the party and the evening... And the champagne.
Her own foolish and unconsidered actions had instigated the whole thing. No wonder he’d reacted the way he had. He was only responding to her thoughtless flirting.
In retrospect his cold reaction when they were discoveredhad left her cringing inwardly at her own naivety. Even his eventual apology had been from a position of acknowledging his own mistake—keeping to the high moral standards he set for himself, rather than showing concern for her feelings.
No, Izzy had her own theory, one she wasn’t going to explain to Clarissa. All Izzy’s life—well, since she was fourteen or fifteen—men had looked at her in a certain way.
Lord Salcott knew about her mother now, and he knew better than anyone that Izzy had not a penny to her name. It was only through marriage—or some less respectable arrangement—that Izzy’s future would be secured.
He was keeping a watchful eye on her, making sure she didn’t disgrace Clarissa—as if she would. But she refused to allow him to spoil her enjoyment of the party. Let him prop up that column and brood. She was going to have fun.
However, as the night wore on, it became clear to Izzy that he had no intention of remaining on the sidelines. Over the past few days she’d been enjoying a lighthearted flirtation with Sir Jasper Vibart, a sophisticated rake whose dry, cynical observations she found quite entertaining. There was nothing in the slightest bit serious about it, and when he’d learned the other day that she would be attending Lady Benton’s rout party, he’d engaged Izzy for a couple of dances.
But tonight Sir Jasper had approached her, saying in his languid manner, “So entertaining, my dear. I’ve actually been warned off by your guardian, or should I say your guard dog?”
“What?”
His hard eyes glittered with appreciation. “I know—ridiculous, is it not? But fear not, dear lady, you shall not lack for a partner. My dances, Lord Salcott informs me, have now been granted to Lord Giddings.”
Lord Giddings? Izzy was furious. And she wasn’t going to stand for it. She marched across the room to confront Lord Salcott. “What do you think you’re doing?”
