Married to the
Viscount of Deception
Preview
CHAPTER ONE
Miss Isabella Drayton gazed out of the window across the park to the hills in the distance. It’s going to be fine, she thought, taking a deep breath and turning to smile at her cousin, Miss Penelope Drayton.
“How do I look?” asked Isabella, as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, before turning to Penelope, anxious for her approval.
Tonight, Isabella needed to look perfect for her betrothed, Lord Lawrence Whitby, Baron Moreton, and yet she didn’t feel that glow of happiness which she had always anticipated she would feel on the evening of her betrothal ball.
“You look lovely, Bella,” Penelope reassured her as she watched Maisie, Isabella’s maid, putting the final touches to Isabella’s hair, lifting the strands of deep chestnut and adding a green ribbon. Maisie stood back when she’d finished declaring her mistress was ready for the ball.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” whispered Isabella, talking to herself, as she walked across the room to the window and impulsively pushed up the sash pane.
“Here let me, Miss,” said Maisie, hurrying across and helping to lift the heavy framed window.
“Thank you, Maisie,” Isabella said, “I felt a little faint, and in need of some air.”
“Maisie, go and fetch the smelling salts,” Penelope urged. “Make haste.”
Isabella could see the look of concern on Penelope’s face as she stared at her friend and cousin. “Bella, what is amiss? You look pale and you’re trembling.”
Isabella turned back from the window. “I don’t know. I thought I was well and that I had accepted this wasn’t a love match.”
Penelope sought to reassure her. “Lawrence is a good man. You like him and it’s obvious he cares about you.”
“I know,” said Isabella as she pushed the window down firmly again. “You’re right. I made the decision to marry Lawrence months ago, and he’s kind, considerate, and he’ll let me continue my scientific studies into plants.”
“This is just nerves. You’re the belle of the ball, Bella,” Penelope said encouragingly, but still looking concerned. “Everyone must feel nervous on the night of their betrothal ball. It shall pass.”
“I always thought I’d be racing down that staircase to meet my future husband, and our guests, and dance with him all night, and he would look at me as if he could never let me go.”
“You shall waltz through life,” replied Penelope, laughing as the tension on her cousin’s face eased. “You suit each other very well. I know you shall be happy together.”
“You’re quite right. I’ve thought this through so many times and it’s for the best.” Isabella smiled and smoothed the light muslin skirt on her ivory dress. “Everyone will be talking about my gown. Madame Dubois has excelled herself this time. They won’t notice if I’m a little pale.” Taking another slow breath, she tried to ignore the subtle knot of anxiety that had taken root earlier that day.
The door opened and Maisie returned with the bottle of smelling salts. “Here, Miss,” she said, handing the glass bottle to Penelope.
“Thank you, Maisie. Miss Isabella feels a little better. It seems all she needed was a blast of fresh air.”
“Mr. Fletcher asked me to tell you that the first guests are arriving,” Maisie informed them.
Penelope looked at Isabella with a smile on her face. “We’d better take our places then. I wish Aunt Jane could have seen you tonight, Bella. She would have been so proud of you.”
“I still miss Mama, and Papa too. I have their memory with me tonight though.” Isabella paused as she looked in the direction of the miniature paintings of her parents, placed in a prominent position on the wall of her bedchamber. “Come along Penelope, let us go and dance all night.”
“I certainly plan to do that,” giggled Penelope. “I fully expect to meet my true love and future husband this evening, and nothing is going to stop me.”
They made their way down the wide staircase towards the hallway where Uncle Henry stood waiting. Lord Henry Drayton was uncle to both Isabella and Penelope, and their guardian. He looked up and smiled at his niece, offering her his arm. “My dear girl, you look beautiful,” he exclaimed. “And so do you, Penelope,” he added, offering her his other arm. “Our guests are arriving. We should go and greet them.”
As they walked into the ballroom, Uncle Henry looked around. “Where is Lawrence? He should be here with you. I saw him earlier, so I know he’s arrived.”
“He’s probably with his Mama,” suggested Penelope, a disparaging tone in her voice.
Isabella glanced at her friend. The duty and dedication her betrothed showed to his mother had been endearing at first, but as the months went on, she wondered if Lawrence would ever give the same priority to their relationship. She had lost count of the number of times he had cancelled a visit or engagement due to his mother needing his presence to help calm her nerves.
Isabella’s biggest fear of her decision to marry Lawrence was the thought of living with his mother at Moreton Hall. Normally it would be expected that his mother would move into the Dower house and leave the running of the household at the hall to Isabella. However, this was not something that Isabella could see Lady Moreton readily agreeing to.
Isabella took a deep breath and felt a stab of irritation towards her betrothed. This is our special evening to celebrate our betrothal. He should be here with me to greet our guests.
A question from Uncle Henry brought her back to the present. “Hasn’t Lady Moreton brought her companion? I’ve never seen her without Miss Dymchurch beside her?”
“I’ve no idea, Uncle, but here are some of the first guests arriving,” Isabella replied pointing to the entrance of the ballroom. “It is time to smile and greet people.”
As they moved to stand in position Isabella whispered to Penelope. “Don’t mention Lawrence’s mother again. And indeed, he ought to be here with me, rather than in the ballroom fetching his mother’s lemonade, which is, I daresay, where I suspect he shall be.”
“Lawrence definitely should be with you,” persisted Penelope. “People will notice and are sure to chatter about it.”
“Oh, I’m sure Lady Elliott and Lady Somerville will comment on his absence,” Isabella agreed. “I have to stay calm and composed though.”
“Of course you do,” whispered Penelope. “The floral arrangements in the great hall are so exquisite that no one may notice Lawrence’s absence. As long as he ensures his presence for the opening dance, everything will be fine.”
“I do hope so,” replied Isabella as the first guests entered through the heavy oak door and moved towards them.
This is it, Isabella thought, a feeling of resignation mingling with a tremor of fear she couldn’t quite name. Her betrothal ball. In less than a month I’ll be Baroness Moreton.
Isabella felt Penelope nudge her arm gently. “Are you ready, Bella? You look beautiful.” Isabella nodded, hoping she exuded the air of a confident, serene, bride-to-be, hiding the faint whisper of vague unease.
Lawrence was kind, undeniably so. He’d promised her freedom for her botanical pursuits after their marriage. Her mind told her this was a fortunate match. Why then, did she feel as though Lawrence only wished to marry her for appearances sake and she could have been anyone. I guess there is nothing about me which inspires him in any way. I’m not even sure about affection. Why isn’t he here with me to at least put on a show of affection?
This really wasn’t how she’d imagined her betrothal ball. She remembered talking with her mother about meeting the man she would fall in love with. Her mother had loved her father with a passionate devotion, they had been almost inseparable and had died together when their carriage had skidded with a broken axle on a dark December night two years ago. She heard a guest speaking with her uncle and raised her head to smile in the way ton society expected.
“Isabella, I have the pleasure of introducing you to Lord Jason and Lady Julia, Farthington,” said Uncle Henry, briefly resting his hand on her shoulder with a show of paternal affection. “You must join my niece and take tea sometime, Lady Farthington. I believe you both share an interest in music,” Uncle Henry added. The fine lady had such pale cheeks she looked almost ethereal as she smiled back.
“How charming, I’d be delighted,” Lady Farthington coo-ed in response, before moving on.
After the guests had moved on into the ballroom Isabella realized she had no idea who she had been speaking to. She had been almost in a trance as they had gone past and been introduced. Her Uncle Henry looked at her with an expression of pride on his face. “You are going to make an accomplished society matron,” he beamed. “Now where is that betrothed of yours. I’ve a mind to send Mr. Fletcher to locate him.”
Isabella had begun to reply, when a number of guests arrived at the same time. “Keep smiling, my dear,” Uncle Henry told her. “You too Penelope.”
Isabella placed her hand around the bracelet she wore on her left wrist, twisting it round, feeling the warmth of the pearls against her fingers. Her gift from Lawrence to celebrate their agreement to marry. She needed to adjust to her future in the same way that she twisted and moved the pearls strung on the bracelet. She had a strong sensation of being like the pearls, firmly settled on her bracelet in a position she had to accept, and for a brief moment she wanted to pull the string apart and send the pearls bouncing along the polished wooden floor giving them a new direction.
Isabella forced the thoughts away, as fanciful thinking. She believed she was content with Lawrence and was fully aware that marriage was as much about practicalities and family alliances as romantic love. Her parents were unusual in experiencing true love and Lawrence offered security, appropriate connections, and a promised freedom for her studies.
We shall suit each other very well. What more could anyone reasonably expect from a ton society marriage? Isabella’s fingers clasped around the soft pearls again. Where was Lawrence? This really was too inconsiderate of him.
As she smiled in welcome at the next guests, half listening to their news of a trip to town, she felt her thoughts floating away to what felt like another life. The shadow of a tall, intelligent man, who had told her he loved her, that memory of warmth, with an undercurrent of something more, a frisson of excited anticipation each time they had met that summer.
Upstairs in her bedchamber, in the pocket of her old woolen hooded cloak which she used to walk through the woods on cold days, she still kept a smooth, shiny pebble which he’d given her on a walk by the lake more than five years ago. She’d kept it over the years, a link with the past, its surface rubbed and smooth by all the times she’d held it in her hand on those long walks she enjoyed, especially in the months after her parents’ death. Walking alone, or playing Beethoven on the pianoforte with the crashing deep chords, had kept her functioning in that period of shock and deep mourning.
It must now be time to throw the pebble in the lake and say goodbye to that long ago flirtation with love and romance. She’d turned down his proposal, taken by surprise and unsure how to respond, and never had a second chance to make it right and change her mind.
“Isabella, are you feeling faint again?” Penelope’s concerned voice broke into her conscious.
“No, no, I’m well. I think I found myself in a daydream for a few seconds. I’m back now,” she assured her cousin.
“Uncle Henry has sent Mr. Fletcher to find Lawrence. Look, there’s Everett, he’s Viscount Kennington now. You two used to be such close friends growing up. We all jested that you’d marry one day. Oh, and Clarissa, I didn’t know Everett’s sister was out in society. And …” Penelope paused, and Isabella noticed her friend’s voice sounded fainter and a little more breathy. “There’s Lord Brownridge. I hoped, I mean I thought he might be visiting Kennington Manor.”
“Oh, you did, did you?” laughed Isabella, the feeling of faintness disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “He’s spotted you, and I somehow suspect that Lord Brownridge won’t be able to take his eyes off you for the rest of the evening.
Penelope blushed furiously. “Bella, hush now,” she chided.
Isabella gave a small nod. “Very well, Penelope. But I’ll be stunned if he doesn’t ask you to dance at least twice.”
“Oh Isabella, pray stop!”
This gentle teasing of Penelope helped cover up her discomfiture at the sight of the tall, confident figure entering Drayton Park with his sister on his arm. Everett Kane, Viscount Kennington and his best friend Lord Peter Brownridge.
CHAPTER TWO
Uncle Henry’s voice boomed out, delighted to welcome the Viscount and his family. As they approached, Isabella felt her eyes drawn to the man who used to be her best friend. She took another sharp breath and tried to ignore the unexpected fluttering sensation beneath her ribs.
The Viscount’s emerald green eyes met hers, as he raised a quizzical eyebrow in that individual style he’d always had. Did he do that as a child? Surely not, but she truly couldn’t remember. Lord Kennington, Everett, had always taken life lightly, and made gentle fun of others when they took themselves too seriously.
Memories of their years of close friendship flooded in as she met his eyes across the hall and tried to smile. I can’t deal with this. Not tonight. Just let me greet him and his family pleasantly and hope I don’t see him again this evening.
“Isabella, it’s so good to see you,” cried Clarissa. “I’m back after staying most of last year with Aunt Mary, and we need to see each other frequently. I am to travel to London in March for the season, but until then I shall remain at home. That affords nearly a whole year to enjoy the pleasures of local society.”
“I shall come visit you next week,” Isabella assured her young friend. “Maybe one day, when Everett is out on the estate, and you have free time. Penelope shall come as well.”
“What a lovely evening for your betrothal ball,” exclaimed Clarissa as she looked around the ballroom. “Drayton Park looks so magical with the light from those crystal chandeliers giving it a golden glow. I’m so excited. This is my first ball.”
Isabella smiled at Clarissa’s obvious excitement. “Then you must have a very special evening. I shall make sure Lawrence asks you to dance.”
Clarissa leaned closer as she whispered, “Everett has promised to dance with me if my card is empty. He doesn’t like dancing though.” Clarissa added, raising her voice a little as she looked for her brother with the intention of pulling him into the conversation.
Everett stood there, so close she could smell the faint scent of the familiar sandalwood cologne he preferred. Lord Kennington easily stood out as the most handsome, distinguished man at the ball. He’d always dressed discretely but elegantly, with a deceptively simply tied cravat, dark frock coat and hessian boots.
With a lull in the stream of guests arriving, the group talked together. Uncle Henry was clearly delighted to see Everett again and asked him how he had settled in after his return to Kennington Manor.
“I’ve an excellent Estate Manager and team at the manor. My father, and then Charles ran an efficient estate, so it’s been easy to take the reins. I wish it were otherwise though.”
Uncle Henry became serious. “Charles died far too young. I wish they could find a remedy to successfully treat the morbid sore throat. It took my poor wife, and our infant son. There’s been a lot of sadness in our families in recent years. But tonight is a celebration, and I won’t dwell on those memories.”
Lord Kennington nodded to Henry before turning to Isabella. “I must congratulate you on your betrothal Miss Drayton.”
Isabella took a deep breath and met his gaze. “It’s still Isabella, please. We grew up together and we are friends. There is no need for formality.”
Everett smiled and his eyes never left hers. “Isabella then, it’s good to see you again. It’s been so long, yet in some ways it seems like just yesterday we were searching for plant specimens in Brindley Woods and down by the lake.”
“It is good to know you’re safe and home again, your Lordship,” Isabella replied.
He broke into laughter. “So, I’m to call you Isabella, but you’re still calling me by my title. That’s a little unbalanced. I insist on your calling me Everett. We can, of course, be formal if the occasion demands. I can’t think when that would be, but I suppose it’s possible.”
Isabella smiled back. “Very well, Everett.” In that brief moment the connection between them returned, and she knew how much she’d missed him all these years.
She sensed a presence at her side, and felt a hand placed on her arm, followed by a familiar voice. Lawrence.
“Everett, good to see you. You’re back at the manor I presume? I must ride over this week.”
“Indeed. It’s good to be home, Lawrence,” Everett replied with a nod of his head.
“And Clarissa. You look stunning,” continued Lawrence. “If you have a free dance on that card of yours then I insist on stepping out for the first Quadrille with you.”
Isabella could see how Clarissa looked slightly flustered under the gaze of her betrothed.
He’s so charming to everyone he meets, she thought.
It seemed that Lawrence knew Everett. Isabella had seen a clear shock of recognition between them, before they spoke. She’d known Everett since they were children, and she knew when he was wary. How did he know Lawrence? Had they been at school together?
She felt Lawrence’s hold on her arm, and his warm breath close to her cheek. This is how it should be. He is my betrothed, she chided herself, but the element of possession and power between the two men was impossible to ignore.
“Still as studious as ever Kane?” laughed Lawrence. “I’m surprised you could drag yourself away from those moldy old books you used to spend all your time with. We all thought you’d enter the priesthood after Cambridge.”
“I enjoy reading and intended to obtain a first in my final exams,” Everett replied, a fixed smile on his face, but she could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. “What was it you got Lawrence? I can’t quite recall,” he asked, that eyebrow raised quizzically again.
“Degrees are not worth the paper they’re written on,” laughed Lawrence, as Isabella struggled to work out his mood. “We go to Oxford or Cambridge because our fathers attended those establishments. If we have the right position in society, then we don’t even need to sit an exam.”
“Truly? I do wish women could study at a university,” Isabella added wistfully. “I’d have loved to go to Cambridge.”
“You’d have enjoyed every minute, Bella,” Everett once again called her the familiar name used only by family and friends.
Lawrence looked shocked. “My dear Isabella, that would be quite inappropriate for a young lady of grace and favour. You will make a superb hostess and mother. My mother is excited at the thought of grandchildren in her life.”
Isabella bit her tongue, irritated by Lawrence’s condescending attitude. He’d agreed to support her botanical projects, so why would he belittle women studying? She wondered whether to tell him what she thought of his attitude when Everett spoke again.
“And what subject would you have chosen to study, Bella?”
“Oh, such a difficult choice between English Letters and the Natural Sciences,” she declared without a moment’s hesitation. “I would struggle to choose between immersing myself in Shakespeare or wildflowers of the British countryside. In fact, when you read Shakespeare’s plays they are strewn with references to flowers.”
Everett laughed. “And we both know a bank where the wild thyme grows. No Helen of Troy or Aphrodite for you? There are many strong women in Greek classical literature.”
“Alas no, I never learned Greek.” Isabella looked at her betrothed, wondering why he had appeared a little shocked by her words. “Perhaps I should learn Greek, though I doubt I will have the time.”
Everett smiled at Isabella. “Call on me for any help with your future classical studies. We will be in residence at the manor for several months.”
“Until I go to town for my season,” supplied Clarissa, rejoining the conversation. “Though I suggest, Isabella that you visit to join me, and not Everett with his fusty books.” She patted her brother’s arm, smiling up at him. “Come along Everett, the ballroom looks enchanting, and I am determined to drink lemonade and then dance all night. Who knows I may meet my true love this evening.”
Everett offered Clarissa his arm. “Oh very well Clarissa. Miss Drayton, will you do me the pleasure of dancing Grimstock with me?”
“You remember my favorite country dance! Of course.” Isabella agreed without a moment’s pause.
Isabella thought Everett looked older, noticing fine lines around his eyes.
It suits him. He looks rather distinguished. Can he have grown in height since we last met, she wondered, knowing it wasn’t possible. All the same she found she had to raise her head more than she remembered to meet his eyes as she agreed to dance the fourth set with him.
Isabella knew he’d planned to take a living close to Kennington Manor-as his brother would live in the Manor being the Viscount- spending his days writing sermons and sketching in the Hills; but instead, he’d gone off to oversee his family’s estate in war torn Portugal. There he had joined the army, and she had heard stories that he had somehow become involved in Intelligence work. If the stories were true, he’d been in danger in action several times.
She’d learnt of his return after several years abroad when his brother’s death had unexpectedly propelled him into becoming Viscount Kennington.
“I’ll allow you that dance with my betrothed bride-to-be, Kane. I’ve already promised mother that I shall dance Grimstock with her.”
Isabella was taken aback by Lawrence’s intervention. What does he mean? He’ll allow me to dance with a childhood friend. I suspect Lawrence may be jealous of my affection for Everett. Surely not. There’s no need as we’ve always been like older brother and younger sister to each other.
Except for that one walk five years ago, she thought, hoping her cheeks hadn’t suddenly turned flame red with the memory of that tender moment.
“I must dance with you, Lady Clarissa,” she heard Lawrence continue, and Isabella saw her young friend blush coral pink with pleasure.
“Oh yes, I’ll add you to my card,” Clarissa told him, trying to hide her excitement at completing her first dance card at a ball.
“We’d better get you into that ballroom.” Everett called to his friend. “Peter, come along. Clarissa is determined to drink her first lemonade at a ball. We have a mission to discover the refreshments.”
As Isabella watched them walk into the ballroom, she could almost feel Clarissa’s excitement and it was so infectious. Clarissa was right in her excited appraisal of the decorations. Mr. Fletcher and Mrs. Finchley, the housekeeper, had excelled themselves. The floral decorations were down to her though, and she’d enjoyed every minute spent gathering flowers from the hot house and gardens adding foliage from the local hedgerows to create her designs.
Isabella turned to Penelope as Lawrence moved to stand with her Uncle Henry. “Clarissa is so excited and it’s a joy to see.”
Penelope nodded. “Indeed, and she’s only recently out of mourning for Charles and her mother. It is good to see her so happy.”
“Poor Everett, he never expected to become Viscount, harnessed into duty and putting all his effort into the estate,” Isabella added fingering her pearl bracelet again. “Life hasn’t turned out as he expected. So much sadness for the family, but you’re right, it’s lovely to see Clarissa shining at her first society ball. “
“We should visit her soon, and take some fashion plates with us,” suggested Penelope. “I believe all the guests have now arrived. Uncle Henry is just speaking with Mr. Fletcher about the orchestra commencing the first dance.”
Isabella leaned closer to Penelope and whispered, a jesting note in her voice. “Lord Brownridge spoke with you intently.”
“Bella, stop this now. We’re merely friends who enjoy each other’s company. We are to dance the second set together.”
Lawrence joined them having finished talking to Uncle Henry. “Come along my dear, we don’t want to be late for this first dance to mark our betrothal.” He was now perfectly amiable, and Isabella could see how handsome he looked, with his elaborate cascading cravat and elegant hessian boots.
He makes it sound almost as though I’ve been delaying and I am about to be late for my own ball! But Isabella put the thought aside and nodded, “Of course Lawrence, I’m ready to dance.”
“Excellent. Let’s get this over with, so I can check on Mama. She’s feeling a little melancholy this evening. It will be so good for her to have you at Moreton Hall.”
Why did her heart sink at those words? It was what she wanted, what she’d committed to when she’d accepted Lawrence’s proposal. She decided to accept it but couldn’t help herself when she replied. “I hope she feels better soon. She does suffer so from so many illnesses.”
He looked at her sharply and she made herself smile sweetly, chastising herself for letting the words slip out.
“She should have remained at the hall, but she didn’t want to miss our betrothal ball. I’ve told her I’ll be at her side whenever you don’t need me,” Lawrence informed Isabella, rather stiffly.
“It’s time for you to make your entrance,” announced Uncle Henry. “Lawrence, dear boy, I must tell you how delighted I will be to welcome you into the family when you marry next month. Isabella and you make such a charming couple. I look forward to welcoming my great nephews and nieces to Drayton Park.” He guffawed and Lawrence joined the older gentleman, grasping him firmly by the hand.
Isabella smiled, knowing her Uncle expressed genuine pleasure at their union.
“Thank you, I am the happiest of men.”
Isabella looked at her betrothed, liking the way he respected her uncle. Uncle Henry clearly doted on Lawrence and had encouraged her to take the step forward into marriage when she’d had misgivings.
I remember him telling me that love has many forms and the love we read about and dream about is not the reality of life. “Marry and be happy, knowing you are well suited,” he’d urged her, convinced she would not find a better match than Lord Moreton.
Isabella had to admit that Uncle Henry gave wise advice and Lawrence and herself did get on very well indeed. He had always appeared a good man, handsome as well as wealthy. He lived at Moreton Hall, a delightful house, and was well regarded as a local man of stature, about to be appointed local justice of the peace. She knew they would get along very well together, and she could make the marriage work.
“Would your mother like to dance with me as the ball starts?” Uncle Henry asked Lawrence. “I know she felt a little fragile with her nerves this evening, but I don’t want her to feel overlooked.”
“Thank you, but she is quite comfortable in the ballroom, seated with Miss Dymchurch, observing proceedings. I shall join them as soon as this dance is over.”
“Of course,” Isabella murmured, while her thoughts raced. Why oh why does he need to spend the evening with his mother. I know I could go and join them, but she rarely speaks to me when I see her. Surely, we will have more than one dance at our betrothal ball.
“Let’s go through and you can enjoy your first dance on this special evening,” Uncle Henry, offered his arm to Penelope as he spoke, and gestured for Lawrence to take Isabella’s arm and lead the way into the ballroom.
Isabella glanced at Lawrence as they walked to the dance floor, with friends and family greeting them along the way. He really is handsome and so at ease in the world of the ton. This may not be a love match but why shouldn’t enough of love follow once we are married to give us a happy life. I believe we shall be happy together.
“You look wonderful this evening,” Lawrence whispered, so close to her ear that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “If Mama were in better spirits, I should dance every dance with you this evening.”
She smiled with understanding, though wondering why Lady Moreton needed her son beside her at all times when Miss Dymchurch was in attendance. “We will have many more opportunities to dance, Lawrence.”.
Isabella was taken a little by surprise at Lawrence’s next words. “We have never waltzed yet. Shall we be daring and lead a waltz? I shall hope to find you while Mama is taking refreshments later this evening.”
She was able to hide her momentary shock as she replied. “I shall look forward to that. Of course, Lady Moreton’s health must come first.”
“I’ve been trying to persuade her to spend the winter in Bath to take the waters. I believe it will do her the world of good.”
“The waters have a good reputation and the winter months in Bath have many recitals and exhibitions. That’s an excellent idea,” Isabella encouraged him.
Lawrence’s face had a rather endearing expression of pleasure as he responded. “I hoped you would think that.” However, it was then spoilt as he added, “shall we journey to Bath and spend some weeks there after our marriage.”
“Of course,” she smiled, with a leaden feeling in her stomach. Bath! She’d hoped to get to know her new household, and have a first Christmas at Moreton.
Isabella knew she was going to find Bath tedious, but being so close to Lady Moreton would test her patience. She considered asking Penelope to join the expedition. Having her friend and cousin in Bath would make it close to bearable.
Lawrence led her on to the dance floor. “Ah, here we are, time to put on a show my dear Isabella.”
The small orchestra struck up the introductory bars of a minuet and Lawrence bowed formally, then raised her gloved hand to his mouth and gently kissed her fingers. A wave of approved murmurs spread out among their guests, and her betrothed led her into the steps of the dance. What a good choice for a first dance, she thought, so slow and graceful.
Afterwards, as the music moved on to a cotillion, she saw Uncle Henry retreat from the floor and Lord Brownridge bowing before Penelope.
He’s smitten in love, she thought. And Penelope likes him too. Maybe they will make a match of it?
She looked towards Lawrence and smiled gently, and he responded with a broad beam on his face. “I’ll finish this cotillion and then leave you with your family. I’d ask you to join us with Mama, but her nerves really are quite fraught this evening and I promised I’d give her my full attention.” He looked at her, his gray eyes meeting hers directly, drawing her into his gaze, and she wished she felt that quiver of desire which she’d experienced on that long ago walk in the woods. She pushed those memories firmly away though, into a locked vault.
‘I understand,” she told him, still smiling, despite a stab of intense disappointment.
“I shall return often to check how you are faring. Will you join me to greet Mama, and then I must urge you to make your excuses and leave her. I want to avoid her having one of her turns if at all possible.”
What on earth was one of her turns? I’m sure I’ll discover that when I move to the hall. She shuddered visibly, wondering if she might be having some sort of turn herself.
As the music guided them into the intricate knots of the dance, Isabella concentrated on the steps, amazed at how effortlessly Lawrence took each step and turn with excellent technical precision. He occasionally looked towards his Mama who was seated with a small entourage of ladies around her, and that great lady nodded her head in recognition. Isabella thought she almost beckoned for Lawrence to join her, moving her fan in a way which signaled he had danced long enough. Sure enough, as the music faded and the dancers around them prepared to move into a quadrille, Lawrence lowered his head to hers as he whispered. “I should join Mama, she must be exhausted and so brave to be here tonight.”
“Of course, Lawrence. Should we take her some lemonade or a glass of punch?”
Lawrence appeared to consider the suggestions before dismissing it. “Perhaps later. I believe she wishes to watch quietly and enjoy this evening. She’ll take her specially prepared cordial when she retires later for refreshments.”
They moved to join the group consisting of Lady Moreton, Miss Dymchurch, and two elderly matrons whom she knew from local society. Lady Pembroke and the Countess of Carbury had often called on her own mother, and from experience she knew that both usually had forthright opinions they were happy to share.
As they got closer Isabella heard the topic of conversation and felt a stab of irritation. She bit her tongue as the words drifted across the ballroom.
“How curious, such a modern approach to marriage,” she could hear the countess telling everyone.
“I agree absolutely, Anne,” came the strident tones of Lady Pembroke. “I don’t know what the world is coming to when a bride declares she plans to continue her botanical research and have links with the … university.” She almost whispered the last word with obvious distaste. “A wife should not abandon her household duties and care of her husband for such unladylike pursuits.”
Lady Moreton sighed deeply, as she welcomed her son. “Hush, Catherine, times change, and we must change with them. Lawrence my boy, come and join me. Isabella, I hope that dance card of yours is full. I so miss dancing. I don’t recall ever having a space on my dance card.”
Lawrence was quick to assure his mother as Isabella stood next to the two women who had been discussing her in such disparaging terms. “I’m sure you were the belle of every ball, Mama.”
“Rumour has it that you’re going to allow your future wife to continue working in a botanical garden,” said Catherine, the Countess of Carbury. “Never heard such a thing before.” She peered at Isabella as if she were an insect about to be squashed. “I don’t believe a word of it.”
“It wouldn’t have been countenanced in my day,” added Lady Pembroke.
“I’m sure it shall all work out very well,” came the surprising contribution of Miss Dymchurch, who generally stayed in the shadows of her employer and spoke only when spoken to. “They are young and in love, that’s all that is important.” Isabella glanced at her with interest.
There may be more to Miss Dymchurch than I realized. Perhaps she may become a friend when I marry and move to the hall.
“Bravo, Miss Dymchurch,” exclaimed Lawrence. “Isabella will continue to strengthen her interest in botanical plants which are native to the British countryside and I’m proud of her achievements. I will support her endeavours as her devoted husband.”
Isabella heard a disparaging snort from the elderly Lady Pembroke, but the others all seemed to nod in agreement with Lawrence.
She smiled at her husband-to-be, thankful of him supporting her so publicly, but Isabella also knew that he had the ability to charm this particular group of ladies into agreeing with anything he told them. He looked directly and endearingly around the group and when he smiled at Lady Pembroke she nodded. “I know times change, but I still do believe it is best for a wife to make her husband and household her primary concern.”
“And I shall make sure that’s the case,” Isabella said, wanting to defend herself from criticism, which she felt was unwarranted at her betrothal ball. “I’m looking forward to taking over the reins of the household at Moreton.”
As she spoke, she realized her fingers had tightened around her fan, and she wriggled them a little to ease the tension in her body. She glanced towards Lady Moreton and saw the surprised expression on her face. Clearly Lady Moreton did not plan to relinquish the management of the household so easily. Isabella was not surprised because it was what she had suspected.
Lawrence seated himself next to his mother, who immediately turned to him and began talking animatedly.
She’s actually turned her back on me. Well, she has been ill, and Lawrence told me to greet his mother and then feel able to leave them, so that’s what I intend to do.
Isabella bowed and mouthed a farewell to Miss Dymchurch, and the two society ladies. She turned to do the same to her future-mother-in-law but knew there was no point as she had her head bowed close to her son’s, deep in conversation.
She decided to go and find Penelope. Isabella valued Lawrence’s commitment to maintaining her work compiling a Floriale Botanica of the English countryside. She hoped that with his support she would be able to publish the Floriale in two years’ time. Her dream to contribute to botanical science in this way could be realised.
That will be more important in life than searching for love, and those fleeting, inconvenient stirrings of passion. Lawrence is amiable and supportive, and I plan on building a life at Moreton where I find contentment. I don’t want or need any more than that.
Isabella looked around the room, noticing everyone either engaged in conversation, or dancing a quadrille. She wished Lawrence had spent a little longer with her this evening. She strongly suspected the evening gave an indication of how things were going to be in their future life. She was going into the marriage with her eyes wide open; and could easily content herself with her studies and writing. Lawrence had even talked of building Isabella a glass house, with an adjoining study and reference library. That would certainly be a dream come true.
Yet, as the orchestra played the first notes of a country dance, and music began to fill the ballroom, she felt a sudden longing for something more than this. Isabella remembered experiencing that wave of desire for a man, and she forced herself to suppress the memory down into that locked vault hidden deep in the depths of her carefully composed heart.
CHAPTER THREE
Everett smiled at his sister and her delight at attending this, her first ball. At eighteen she should have had the pleasure of many balls but the death of their father, closely followed by their brother Charles had propelled her into deep mourning. Clarissa’s season in London had to wait. Now she seemed eager to make up for lost time.
I don’t need to worry about her as she’s with Peter, and he’ll make sure her dance card is full. I probably ought to engage some sort of sponsor or companion, but we have several months before such an encumbrance becomes essential. We can manage without chaperonage at local society events, Everett was thinking.
He really had no idea that bringing a young lady out into society would prove to be such a complicated, involved process. He’d blithely assumed that new gowns and arranging to take a residence in town was all that was required. How wrong he’d been!
As he watched the dancers, he noticed the group of ladies surrounding Lawrence’s mother. He found Lillian Whitby, Lady Moreton, tiresome in the extreme. She put her own comfort before that of others, and he knew her reputation for fits of the vapors, and a razor-sharp tongue, was well deserved.
She clearly loves her son though, he thought. Every time he looked at her he could see she had her eye on Lawrence. He wondered how Isabella could cope with living in the same house with her. He’d felt a moment of extreme dismay when news of Bella’s betrothal to Baron Moreton had been announced.
I wish her well with her choice. I never expected her to marry. I somehow thought Isabella would remain single, living at Drayton Park, tending her plants. Why would I assume that? I had no reason.
Deep down he still felt the pain of her rejection. He’d been impulsive that long-ago day, he knew he’d spoken too soon, but her answer had stunned him. He’d had a lucky escape, they had both been very young for marriage, so why did he still feel uncomfortable about how it had worked out?
I wish we could have stayed friends. I lost her due to misjudging her feelings for me and recklessly proposing that day in the woods.
His eye was drawn to Isabella, walking across the ballroom alone, looking near to tears. He knew her and he detected no sign of the joy and happiness expected in a bride-to-be. And Lawrence was with his mother again. How ridiculous, should he not be dancing with Isabella? It’s a ball to celebrate their betrothal.
Bella… His eyes followed her walking alone through her guests, looking so fragile. The small orchestra began to play the introductory bars of another country dance, and Bella clearly had no dance partner. This was the sort of situation which risked setting the tongues of the matrons wagging. A short conversation over a crystal punch bowl about the sad figure of an abandoned bride at her betrothal ball could easily result in an entry in a London scandal sheet appearing a few days later.
This had nothing to do with him. He no longer had an interest in Miss Isabella Drayton, soon to be Lady Moreton. He would never forget her refusing his offer. He’d meant it half in jest and half in hope that she might accept him. After seeing the stunned expression on her face when he suggested they might make a match, he’d made little of it and never mentioned it again. Soon after he’d chosen to go abroad, glad to lose himself in the war. He’d found a role serving in intelligence, relentlessly risking his life by moving ahead of the main column of advancing troops and checking for potential danger. His fluency in French, thanks to his Grandmother Celestine, had made him a valued addition to Arthur Wellesley’s covert service.
When he’d been seriously injured in a skirmish, he’d found refuge in the family estate further from the conflict zone in Portugal and enjoyed focusing on improving their fine port wine. He’d happily have made a life there if Arthur hadn’t died.
Everett didn’t plan it, and he had no idea how he found himself standing in front of Isabella. She looked up at him, confused, and for a second he lost himself in those hazel eyes, shining like mosaics in the candlelight, as their gaze fused. Everett felt as though the ballroom faded into the shadows and the only reality was the woman standing in front of him. He felt his arm move towards her and forced it back down by his side.
Isabella greeted him brightly. “Everett. I’m delighted you could join us this evening. I must catch up with Clarissa soon. It’s wonderful my betrothal ball is her first ball.”
He listened and kept looking at her, and the words he’d been about to say tumbled out of his mouth. “I saw you were alone. I thought perhaps …” and his voice faded as he realized he needed to be more formal. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I saw you were alone and wondered if you might care to dance. I see Lawrence is occupied entertaining his Mama.”
And nothing has changed there, he thought. Even at university Lawrence had been so solicitous of his mother’s welfare that some terms he’d been at Moreton Hall more than he’d been in Cambridge.
“I do indeed find myself without a partner. I believe people assumed I would be with Lawrence this evening, but he’s had to give his Mama support.”
“Ah, yes Lady Moreton does suffer with her nerves. I remember Lawrence was often recalled home from his studies when we were at Cambridge.”
“I’d forgotten you studied together, although I never knew you were close at that time,” she said, with a question in her voice.
“No, we didn’t run in the same circles, and have very different interests,” he held back from saying more, and hoped his words were sufficiently neutral.
“I can imagine,” Isabella said lightly, smiling up at him. “And yes, Everett, I’d be glad to dance with you. However, on one condition, you must ask Penelope to dance later. She is in danger of spending all evening with Lord Brownridge and those tongues will begin tattling.”
“Of course, I shall be happy to agree to that request.” Everett offered her his arm. “Shall we dance?” he laughed. “I believe I can remember not to trip over your toes.”
Isabella looked surprised. “You haven’t danced recently?”
“Only the occasional hop in the drawing room with Clarissa, to keep her content about her lack of society. I believe the last ball I attended was before I left England for the Peninsular.”
“You were gone a long time,” Isabella’s voice was so quiet he only just heard her.
They drew closer to the dance floor, and he could see Lawrence looking in their direction, a look of annoyance on his face. Isabella seemed oblivious to her betrothed’s angst, and he felt glad about that.
“Almost five years. I served with Wellesley on the Iberian Peninsula, then after I was injured, I spent time recovering at our estate abroad.” He saw the look of horror on her face and felt a sudden rush of warmth through his body at her obvious concern.
“Let’s wait to dance,” Isabella said. “I’d like to talk, it’s so long since we last met. I hadn’t realised you’d been hurt.” She guided him towards a quiet door which led to a side terrace used mainly by the family with Maisie of course accompanying them. “Come, we can talk here and then join the next dance. Unless you’re engaged to dance with another?”
“No, no, I only asked you to dance because I saw you were without a partner, and this is your special evening.”
“Excellent!” Isabella led him out onto the terrace, lit by sconces and empty of guests. They stood side by side by the terrace wall, looking out at moonlit shadows of trees in the distance. “Now tell me about this wound. I had no idea, and I’ve been too busy with my research here to visit others socially and find out news. Uncle Henry never mentioned it.” She put her arm gently on his, and he knew it was a habit from years earlier when they had been such close friends, almost like brother and sister, yet now it made him catch his breath. He focused his attention on answering her question and suppressing the shivering signals which pulsed though his body.
He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “It wasn’t pleasant being stabbed in a skirmish behind enemy lines, but my injuries were not life threatening. I’d have gone back to active service if Arthur hadn’t died so suddenly.”
“You worked undercover I believe? In espionage?”
“More of a reconnaissance role. We scouted ahead of the main column of the army, mostly making contact with sympathetic local people in villages, checking there were no hidden surprises before the army moved forward.”
“That sounds dangerous,” she said quietly. “And you were injured on one of those expeditions into enemy territory?”
He nodded. “My language skills made me an obvious choice for the work. I’ve learnt fluent French from Grandmother, and a pretty decent level of Spanish and Portuguese due to our family business being based there.”
“What happened?”
“This really isn’t a topic of conversation for a young lady at her betrothal ball,” suggested Everett.
“I want to know Everett,” she told him, looking directly into his eyes. “We’ve been friends since we were children and I’m sorry we’ve lost touch. I know there are reasons, and I regret so many things from the past, but we are where we are today, and I’d like to know what happened to you.”
“Very well, but I’ll keep it brief. I refuse to tell you about the incident while strains of the country dance play in the background,” he said wondering how he could describe the brutal ambush where he’d been left for dead.
“You may thank me for avoiding this country dance.” She was jesting with him but he could hear the gentleness in her voice.
“I was with another intelligence agent scouting out a hilltop village near the border between France and Spain. Someone in our ranks proved to be a traitor and gave the enemy warning. We entered a clearing near the village as arranged and were attacked and left for dead. I survived, but the other man didn’t. A priest found me and took me to a local convent where they nursed me out of the danger zone and returned me to our camp.”
“I can’t imagine how that would have been.” Isabella took his hand, her gloved fingers covering his. “Are you recovered? Do you still feel pain?” she asked with concern.
“I recovered slowly, but improved with every week that passed. After I travelled to our estate in Porto to convalesce, I found I rather liked living in the valley there, with the vines, the sunshine and the cork trees. I hope to return and spend more time there when Clarissa is settled and happy.”
“At least you are well again, and the news from the continent is encouraging. I’m glad you’re home and that we met again tonight.” Isabella removed her hand from his. He wanted to reach out and hold her close, but he knew that couldn’t happen.
I’m glad to have friendship with Bella. Even as the thought entered his head, he realized that it must be time limited, for as soon as she married Lord Moreton, he would be unlikely to see her again, except at an occasional supper gathering across the room.
The music changed to a more sedate country lament, and he bowed, then held out his arm. “We should dance, Bella. Please do me the honour of dancing the next set with me.”
“Of course,” she curtsied before taking his arm.
Everett glanced up at the moon, noticing more stars appearing high in the midnight blue sky every few seconds. He wished for an impulsive moment that they could dance alone here on the terrace, under that canopy of stars. The music filled the terrace, and he wanted to twirl Bella in his arms, alone without observers, but he knew that would mean she risked ruin if one of the gossip mongers of the ton happened to come out to take the air and discovered them dancing even though Maisie was their chaperone. They needed to return to the ballroom, as the bride-to-be would no doubt soon be missed by her guests.
Oh, Heavens! If Isabella had been his betrothed, he’d have spent every minute of this ball with her. What was Lawrence thinking? That man needed to cut the strings and set his mother adrift, so she could acquire some resilience. He didn’t feel sorry for Lawrence, as the reality was the man had never made the transition to an independent adult in life.
Well, his loss is my gain this evening, I’m going to lead Isabella into the next two dances and imagine that life is as simple and carefree as the last time we danced all those years ago. At least I was injured in the chest and head, not my leg, so I can still dance well enough.
I hope you enjoyed the preview of my new novel“Married to the Viscount of Deception” It will be live on Amazon soon…
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