Chapter 1

CHAPTER1

Three Years Later

“And the bonnie lass’s hand he will take…” Isabella sang softly under her breath as images from the past filled her mind.

Each time she uttered the words from this song, she was transported back by four years to the night of her debut.

The gentleman she was dancing with took her hand gently and led her towards the dance floor. His hand was large compared to hers. Whereas she often felt her fingers were too long for a gentleman’s palm, this man did not make her feel so different. Her hand was almost small in his.

He was tall too, even taller than her, which was a grand feat. As he turned to face her, that lopsided smile the ladies talked so much of struck Isabella to her heart. She could feel her heart beating harder in her chest as the gentleman drew her into a dance.

It was a waltz, a bold dance for her first at her debut. Yet, the gentleman took hold of her easily with such confidence she was almost breathless. When she walked on her own two feet, she was usually a clumsy fool. For most of her dances that night, she felt like a deer trying to walk on ice, but not with this man. He had such a commanding control of the dance that she felt safe.

Each touch was illicit, exciting, and those bold blue eyes of his shone as they spoke to each other.

What a dance that was.

“And the bonnie lass’s hand he will take, not just for a dance, but for their life—”

“Isabella? Are you in here? We cannot be late!” Susan’s voice echoed through the corridors, cutting off Isabella’s song.

Sharply, Isabella looked up from the book she had been reading, tossing aside both the pages of the book on the studies of the human mind, and her song.

I should stop daydreaming of such a moment. That was far in the past now.

Isabella often told herself such a memory was pointless to keep recalling, yet something in her mind found it impossible to abandon.

“Isabella?” Susan called again and appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. “There you are. Do be quick, or we’ll be late. Both Father and Irene are in the carriage already. Goodness, are you reading again?” Susan practically scurried into the room on the balls of her feet.

Isabella had to hold in her laugh. It was her youngest sister’s first season, and Susan had developed this habit of rushing everywhere so fast that she barely put one foot in front of the other.

“Careful. Continue to run so, and you’ll end up like me, falling over everything and everyone. You wouldn’t want a reputation as being clumsy now, would you?” Isabella teased as she moved to her feet.

“Hopefully not!” Susan laughed and darted her gaze down at the book Isabella had been reading before rolling her eyes. “Only you would read a book when we are supposed to be on our way to a ball. What will Father think?”

“Does it surprise you I do not care what Father thinks?” Isabella asked as her sister led the way back towards the corridor. “Here, your shawl is slipping.” Isabella reached for her sister’s shoulders and pulled up the silken shawl she had wrapped around her. “It is a chilly night, you should wrap up warm.”

It was always the way for Isabella. She cared for her sisters as naturally as she breathed. With that came a few harsh realities that she was trying to protect her sisters from.

“Father is not so bad, you know,” Susan insisted as they reached for the door of the house. “He has promised to introduce us to many gentlemen tonight.”

“Hmm, that’s nice then.”

Isabella purposefully made her voice upbeat, though she darted a wary look at the carriage with the words. She glimpsed her father, Andrew Sculthorpe, the Earl of Sinclair, as he paced by the door of the carriage, fearing she knew what he was up to already.

How many creditors do you owe now? How many gentlemen have demanded the repayment of their honor as well as their money?

Time and time again had Isabella witnessed the potential foulness that existed in their father’s heart. When they were young, she used hide with her sisters in her bedchamber and distract them with games.

When her father had brought back his courtesans or married ladies from the ton to their home, she had made such noise in the bedchamber with her sisters that it was impossible for Irene or Susan to learn of what their father was doing. The rake’s secrets were kept secret for a little longer.

These days, Isabella couldn’t protect them from everything. Both Irene and Susan knew their father was not perhaps the most honorable of men, but they did not understand the extent to which their father had gambling debts or still participated in drunken duels when he had cuckolded another man.

“Isabella?” Irene called excitedly from the carriage and poked her head out of the door.

Irene’s auburn hair was pristine tonight, pulled back into a neat bun. Her green eyes which were mirrored in Isabella’s face were alight with excitement, though Isabella had no such light in her own.

How many balls have I been to now? Too many! I’d infinitely rather read my book at home.

“Is this not exciting?” Irene asked as Isabella and Susan climbed into their carriage, moving past their father.

Irene and Susan sat on one side of the carriage together, arm in arm. The two sisters were a year apart in age, but they had often been mistaken for twins thanks to their matching hair color and their habit of usually going everywhere arm in arm.

“A ball to celebrate a wedding.” Irene sighed wistfully.

“What a wedding,” Isabella murmured with a humorous smile. “Up until a couple of months ago, everyone thought Lord Hillson one of the greatest rakes of the ton.”

“Does that not make the tale even more romantic?” Susan asked, then copied her other sister’s wistful sigh. “A rake bound to marry the woman he loves and turning his back on his errant ways. I think it’s romantic indeed.”

“Or unreal,” Isabella muttered to herself so quietly no one could hear her. Her green eyes darted towards her father as he climbed into the carriage and sat beside her.

These days, his handsome looks were beginning to age. Fewer women traipsed through their corridors thanks to his slim features becoming haggard, but enough still came that Isabella resented him for it. She had seen over the years that her father, one of the most infamous rakes there was, would never change. The only thing that had changed was his age and frequency of bed partners.

“I am glad to see you two so excited about the ball tonight,” her father said, his voice high-pitched as he rubbed his hands together.

Isabella could have shuddered at the sight. When he clasped his hands together in such a way, it usually meant he had a foul business deal afoot or was planning to gamble.

“It’s high time you turned your attention towards marriage.”

“Us?” Susan giggled at the idea. “It’s my first season, Father.”

“You are not too young.” Andrew smiled and clasped his hands together again.

“I’d beg to differ,” Isabella muttered, getting a sharp look from her father in answer. She merely offered him an innocent smile in return.

“What of Isabella?” Susan asked. “You hardly ever speak to her about getting married anymore.”

“There is a reason for that,” Isabella said.

“Very true.” Andrew shifted uncomfortably on the bench beside her. “Susan, where you and Irene are still fresh to the ton, Isabella has been amongst the ton for years now.” He cast an uneasy gaze over his eldest. “They clearly do not like what they see.”

Isabella held his gaze, knowing exactly what he thought of her. How often had they argued late into the night about this subject? He was furious that her bluestocking ways were driving away any potential suitors, and she was angry in return that he kept demanding she practice things she was no good at, like the pianoforte or dancing.

“Father!” Irene said in protest. “That is an ugly thing to say.”

“We must be practical, girls,” Andrew said slowly, turning his gaze on Susan and Irene as the carriage rocked them from side to side. “Your sister has driven away most of the suitors she had.”

“Oh, be still my beating heart at such an idea!” Isabella said with drama and clutched her chest. “Will I die of a broken heart because of it?” Her sisters fell about laughing on cue, but Andrew merely raised one dark eyebrow in her direction, clearly disliking her humor as much as he always did. “Must a lady survive on the affection of a man alone? Oh, then I cannot breathe…” She continued to play up the character she had adopted and heaved a deep breath.

Susan and Irene laughed so hard on the other side of the carriage that one of them snorted. Andrew merely shook his head.

“Have you had enough of this nonsense yet?” Andrew asked.

“I am sure I could continue it for a while.” Yet, Isabella took pity on her sisters who were clutching their stomachs and sat still once more. “It may startle you to realize this, Father, but I am in no hurry to be wed, nor do I see a need to marry at all.”

“Not marry at all?” Irene asked, her voice soft. “Why not?”

“Because…” Isabella broke off. She could happily give an honest answer if her father was not in the carriage, but she feared his reprimand if she was completely honest at this moment. “Because perhaps I do not believe a gentleman would be completely faithful.” It was the most diplomatic answer she could give without accusing most men of being rakes.

Her father clearly took the insult anyway, as he turned his gaze out the window and cleared his throat.

“That is a sad thought,” Susan mumbled.

Her bubbling excitement from earlier was now tempered, and she sat slumped against the carriage bench. Isabella smiled and reached towards her, tapping her on the knee to encourage her once again.

“That is my thought, not yours, and you shouldn’t let yourself be tempered by my fears. Be excited as you were before, Susan. You never know what fun you could have tonight,” Isabella said, watching as her sister smiled once again.

“Yes, yes, you are right.” Susan turned excitedly to Irene. “Will Lord Maverick be there?”

“Oh, I hope so.” Irene bobbed in her seat. “We did have a particularly good dance last time. What of Sir Tobias Mayhew?”

“If only.” Susan sighed and fluttered a fan in front of her face.

Clearly, Sir Tobias had turned her head, but Isabella was nervous of the liking. She wasn’t sure what sort of man Sir Tobias was.

He could be a rake, just like most of them.

Isabella cast a sideways glare at her father, who didn’t notice her look, for he was too busy staring out the carriage window.

“Maybe Lord Pine will be there?” Irene said with a mischievous smile as she turned to face Isabella. At once, Isabella pretended to swoon and fell back on the carriage bench, prompting her sisters to laugh. “I take it you look forward to seeing him again?”

“No chance of that!” Isabella roused herself. “That man has a habit of wandering hands when he dances.”

Isabella despised Lord Pine for two reasons. Firstly, he showed no inclination of observing the courtesies or respect of the ton. Secondly, her father seemed a little too interested in pushing her towards the older gentleman. Even now, her father persisted in avoiding her gaze.

I wonder if he owes the man a great debt. Is he thinking he can repay the debt with my hand someday? No chance of that!

When the carriage pulled up outside Lord Hillson’s house, they all descended in turn. Andrew led the way inside, with Isabella and her sisters following behind. Irene and Susan admired the decorations and the fine flowers that covered the pillars of the great hall. The summer blooms of roses and lilies filled the air with their delicate scents, contrasting the acidic smell of wine, champagne and spirits from the drinks tables.

“I shall greet our host,” Andrew said, turning his warning gaze on Isabella. “Behave whilst I am gone.”

“I shall stand on a spot and not move a muscle,” Isabella answered her father, forcing a smile.

When he walked away, Isabella purposefully took a step forwards, showing she had every intention of defying him. Her sisters laughed as soon as their father was out of earshot.

“You are so fond of testing his patience,” Irene said between fits of laughter.

“He is used to me by now.” Isabella shrugged and drew her sisters towards the nearest drinks table. “Come, if we are to enjoy this evening and celebrate the poor marriage of a woman to a rake, we need a drink for this.”

“She might be happy, Isabella,” Susan pointed out as Isabella passed her a glass of champagne.

Isabella chose not to answer and kept her thoughts to herself.

“Goodness, there are so many people here tonight,” Irene gushed, sipping her champagne as she looked around the room. “Such feathers thrust into headdresses, and turbans too. Oh, fashion! It makes everything sparkle.”

“Yes, it is blinding, isn’t it?” Isabella said with humor, then poured a glass of champagne for herself.

“Everyone seems to be staring at someone,” Irene observed. “Oh, my! Who is that? I have not seen him before.”

“Neither have I.” Susan craned her neck to look through the crowds and observe the same man. “Though I think my eyes will be happy for a good long while now I have seen him.” The sisters giggled together. “What a man. Who is he? Isabella, do you know?”

As Isabella turned around to follow their gazes, she nearly choked on the champagne. The bubbles entered her nose and stung her senses. Coughing a little, her eyes widened as she stared at the man that fascinated her sisters so much.

The tall figure from her memory stood on the opposite side of the ballroom. His broad shoulders strained a little against his tailcoat, and his dark brown hair had been cropped short these days, framing his angular features better than before. His sharp jaw was turned as he laughed with the gentleman at his side, Lord Hillson.

In a flash, Isabella recalled that dance with him at her debut. Never had she danced like that again, nor had she felt such a thrill from any other man. But it was long ago.

“That is the Duke of Sutterton.”