Page 41

“ P enelope, have you completely lost your senses?”

Isadora’s voice was sharp, her hand gripping her sister’s arm as they stood near the edge of the ballroom. Around them, couples swirled on the dance floor, but Isadora could see nothing but the poor choice Penelope was about to make.

“I beg your pardon?” Penelope, who was only five years younger at nineteen, blinked in confusion at her older sister’s ire.

“No need to act so aloof,” Isadora stressed. “I saw you just now. Were you seriously entertaining the notion of dancing with Lord Wetherby?”

Penelope sighed, exasperation clear in her features. “I was merely speaking with him, Isadora. I did not know that was against the rules you’ve set for me tonight.”

Isadora resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her sister’s sarcasm. “Well, you know that it is. You need not waste your time with him, let alone dance with him.”

“You act as though I have promised him my hand,” the younger sibling shot in return. “We are at a ball, you know. It is only natural that I speak with people here. Unless you’d rather have me act a wallflower and keep to myself the entire night.”

“It was not just speaking that you were doing.” Isadora’s eyes narrowed. “You were smiling at him.”

Yes, perhaps it sounded a little harsh when she said it out loud. Isadora was well aware that what might seem innocuous to an innocent observer was criminal in her book. She had vowed to protect her sister from every unworthy suitor, and Lord Wetherby was most certainly one of them.

“He was charming,” Penelope shrugged, unfazed. “And you need not worry so much.”

“Charming is not the word I would think to use. He is a notorious flatterer,” Isadora corrected. “And a man with more debts than sense.”

“How do you even know that?” Penelope huffed and folded her arms, “You have always been so quick to judge. Perhaps he has changed, or perhaps the source of your information was simply incorrect.”

“My information is never incorrect, dear sister,” Isadora scoffed. “Men like Wetherby do not change. They merely grow more adept at hiding their faults, and then they try to trick young girls like yourself to fall right into their trap.”

“Again, I beg you to tell me, you know this because?”

“I know because…” Isadora paused for a moment. Well, there was no way to know for certain, of course. But she was not about to take any chances when it came to Penelope. “Because I am your older sister. Consider it an intuition.”

“That is not an answer, Isadora.” Penelope shook her head.

It was not uncommon for the two to argue—though it was never too serious.

Despite her rebellious ways, Isadora knew that Penelope had great respect for her older sister.

She never crossed a line that would make their arguments disrespectful.

“I know you too well. You see a charming smile, and suddenly, all reason flies out the window.”

Penelope clenched her fists at her sides. “I understand your concern, truly I do. But just for one night, I wish to have conversations without you hovering over my shoulder, scrutinizing every man who so much as looks at me.”

Isadora exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have nothing against you having conversations but only with those that might be worthy of them. Wetherby is not the kind of man you can trust.”

“And how am I supposed to learn who to trust if you never let me make my own decisions?”

Isadora paused for a moment. As irksome as it was, perhaps Penelope did have a point. But before she could retort, a familiar voice cut through the conversation.

“For goodness’ sake, Isadora, are you bothering the poor girl again?”

Daphne Harris, the Duchess of Greymont, approached them. Violet Havenford followed close behind, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her closest friends.

“The opposite, rather.” Isadora folded her hands across her chest, nodding at both the ladies.

“Oh, no, no,” Penelope jumped at the opportunity. “Tell them how you have been bothering me the entire night. Daphne, she barely lets me speak to anyone without interrupting and scaring them away.”

Daphne laughed as though she was all too familiar with the scene. “Is that the case?” She turned to her friend. “Have you considered neglecting your guard dog duties for just a night?”

“You say that in jest, but pray tell, if I do not watch over her, who will?” Isadora said, shooting a glare in her friends’ direction.

“Perhaps I can be trusted to watch over myself?” Penelope suggested, a smirk playing on her lips.

“That would be a lovely thought, except that we both know you enjoy the thrill of a little mischief,” Violet chuckled.

Finally. Her friends were speaking sense. Isadora nodded in agreement. “Mischief that will certainly land her in trouble.”

Penelope gasped in feigned offense, but the smirk playing on her lips gave away her intention. “I will do no such thing. Why must you doubt me like this?”

“Oh, let her enjoy a dance, Isadora.” Daphne waved a dismissive hand. “You surely cannot frighten off every eligible suitor.”

Isadora frowned, glancing around as if to take stock of potential threats. None of the men seemed to fit the standard that she had set in her mind for her sister.

“I will not apologize for ensuring that my sister is spared the company of unworthy men,” Isadora replied, pressing her lips together in a thin line.

“But who is worthy of your impossible standards?” Penelope mumbled under her breath.

“Enough of this,” Isadora shook her head and then tried to change the topic altogether. “How have the two of you been? It has been ages since I have seen you last.”

The three ladies would gather frequently, but ever since Daphne and Violet got married, their gatherings grew rarer. Now, she looked forward to balls for the chance to meet her friends.

“Oh, I know , ” Daphne let out a small sigh, extending out her hands to embrace her friend. “We have missed you terribly as well. Would it be so unfair to ask you to marry soon so that you can take up residence close to the both of us?”

Isadora shook her head, laughing, and then passed a side long glance at her sister.

“I am afraid that it would be. There is still much left for me to do before I decide to make the vow.”

Ensuring that her sister had a suitable match—and that she was out of trouble—ranked higher on her list of priorities than marrying at the moment.

“Well, a woman is allowed to dream,” Daphne shrugged. “One day, you will find a man who is worth the trouble.”

Violet jumped back into the conversation with a knowing smile. “Speaking of men and their worth, our husbands have been preoccupied since we arrived. Deep in conversation with Evan, the Duke of Giltburg, of all people.”

“The Duke of Giltburg?” Isadora’s brow furrowed slightly. She had heard of him before but only in passing.

“Nicholas and Ambrose have been pulled into some venture of his,” Violet explaimed. “I trust Nicholas to temper the beast that is Evan, but Daphne believes it is more likely that Evan will drag the others into his schemes.”

“Indeed. I am rather certain Evan is the sort of man who leads, not follows,” Daphne admitted with a chuckle.

“Yes, he has quite the reputation, does he not?” Violet added. “He is quite different from the other gentlemen of the ton. Especially in the sense that he seems to have little regard for propriety.”

“They call him ruthless for a reason,” Daphne observed. “One who is focused entirely on getting his way—one way or the other.”

“Oh, you make him sound like a villain,” Violet giggled.

“Well, no. I know that my husband respects him, and he would not do so if he was not morally sound,” Daphne admitted. “It is just that he is… not like the rest.”

Though the gentleman sounded interesting, Isadora barely registered their words, her gaze flitting back to her side—which she noticed was now empty.

In the brief time that she had gotten busy with conversing with her friends, Penelope had wasted no time in slipping away.

She stood a few feet away, now engaged in polite conversation with a gentleman Isadora did not recognize. He seemed to be asking her for something, a dance perhaps. As the man bowed slightly and reached out, Isadora felt her stomach twist.

Did he just touch her waist? Immediately, Isadora knew it was unacceptable for him to do this, and so without hesitation, she stepped forward.

“Forgive me,” she said smoothly, placing a hand on Penelope’s arm before she could be led to the dance floor. “I must borrow my sister for a moment.”

The gentleman blinked in surprise, clearly thrown off by the interruption. “Of course, My Lady, but?—”

“No, please. I am terribly sorry, but something urgent has come up for which I need my sister’s attention,” Isadora lied. Anything to get her sister away.

“But—”

“That will be all,” Isadora said, making it obvious that there was no more room for argument. “Come, Penelope.”

Once they were a few steps away, Penelope turned to her sister, exasperated. “What is this urgent matter that could not wait until after the dance?”

“It was an excuse to get you away from him,” Isadora said simply. Penelope’s mouth hung open.

“Isadora, I agreed to dance with him,” she said slowly in disbelief. “You did not need to meddle like this.”

“It would have been if fine if he hadn’t crossed boundaries,” Isadora insisted. “I am telling you that it was wildly inappropriate for him to place his hand on your waist in that manner. How bold of him—the audacity is shocking. That alone is enough to warrant an interruption.”

“It was only a small gesture,” Penelope argued back, clearly not understanding why it was such an issue. “You are being too old fashioned.”

“No, I am being careful which you ought to be as well. Not everyone is trustworthy enough, Penelope. No man should feel that he is free to touch you like this, especially during your first meeting.”

“Oh, so would it have been fine if it was our second meeting?” Penelope argued back. “Would you have been satisfied then?”