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thirty-nine

W eeks ago, Isabella would have been exhausted by the preparations of such a grand ball. Instead, thanks to Anthony’s love and her work in the garden, she was excited and full of energy when the ball began.

She walked through the crowded room, smiling and nodding at her guests. Some of the guests’ smiles might be fake, but she didn’t care. Anthony loved her, and with him by her side, she would face anything.

The room couldn’t be more different from the one in Gloucester House. The large windows and pots of flowers made it look wider than it was, and the scent of wild jasmine was a feast for the senses.

She paused when she spotted Helen standing alone on the balcony in a dark corner.

“Helen.” She closed the French window behind her, cutting off the sound of the music and the chatter. “What is it?”

Helen wiped a tear quickly. “Nothing.”

“It can’t be nothing. You love balls, and the room is full of eligible gentlemen. I’m surprised you’re hiding here in the dark.”

“You’ll be angry with me.”

“Tell me everything.”

Helen shivered and took a few deep breaths before answering. “I failed.”

“At what?”

“I had one job, marry the duke, and I wasn’t good enough for him. I did everything Mother asked me, but he didn’t like me.”

Isabella was puzzled. “You didn’t fail. You and Anthony weren’t meant for one another. That’s all.”

“It’s that I saw you here in this beautiful house with Anthony, and I couldn’t help but think it could have been me.” Her whispered words were like a slap.

“You weren’t interested in Anthony after his incident, and you’ve never cared about him. You were only interested in his title, and you have many suitors to choose from.”

“You weren’t interested in Anthony, either.” Helen heaved a sigh. “I read the letter you wrote to Patrick. I know about your affair with him and your child.”

Another moment of stillness went through her. “I was with Patrick only once, but I don’t understand what my miscarriage has to do with anything.”

“You married Anthony only to hide your pregnancy. You didn’t like him, but you married him to cover your lies. While I did everything to please him…” Helen pressed her lips together.

An echo of the guilt struck Isabella. “Yes, I married Anthony in a moment of need, but do not think, not for one moment, that I don’t love him. I love him very dearly, and he loves me. Our marriage started with deceit, but trust me, I’m aware of how lucky I am, and I much appreciate everything I have. You don’t have to be jealous of Anthony.”

Helen sat down slowly on the bench as if moving were an effort for her. “I’m not jealous of Anthony. It’s you.” Her words were barely audible.

“Me?” She huffed. “You’re jealous of me?”

Helen took her time to answer. “You’ve always done what you wanted, enjoying every moment, while Mother expected me to be quiet and always do as I was told. I’ve never had the courage to pursue my own desires or talk back to Mother, as you have. I wish I were more like you.”

Shock silenced Isabella. The idea Helen had been envious of her all that time was ludicrous. Helen had received nothing but praise from their parents, tutors, governess…everyone.

“I know my own weakness isn’t an excuse,” Helen said. “I should have been more determined, but I constantly felt the pressure of being perfect in everything.”

“Have you been unhappy all this time?”

Helen swallowed a couple of times. “I wouldn’t say unhappy. That wouldn’t be fair to our parents, but I was overwhelmed. And seeing you so happy and free…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know it’s awful of me.”

Isabella did awful things too, and the signs of Helen’s unhappiness had been there, but she’d been too busy with her own drama to take note of them.

She sat on the edge of the bench next to her sister. “I had no idea you felt that way. I thought you wanted to marry a duke, not just because Mother urged you to.”

Helen gave a little shrug. “I wouldn’t mind marrying a duke, but I don’t want to be forced to.” A sob shook her. “I’m sorry my selfishness hurt you.”

“If you’d told me how you felt, I would have helped you.”

Helen pressed a hand to her mouth. “As I said, I’m not as brave as you are, and I hope you’ll forgive my words one day.”

She reached out and squeezed Helen’s hand. “I still love you.”

Helen hugged her, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Isabella held her back. If there was one thing she’d learnt from the horrible experience of losing her child, it was to keep those she loved close.

* * *

Anthony watched as the guests for the ball moved into the ballroom. But as he greeted the guests, and too many stared at his face, he couldn’t deny the discomfort bothering him. The guests had already seen him, but apparently, his face was a constant source of shock and attention, judging by the mutters, gasps, and looks.

Grandmama instead was radiant, almost jubilant. She showed a broad smile and fanned herself with a certain energetic flair.

The idea of giving a ball at Sirocco House had been his, after all. It was a way to show himself to society after his absence from London. and once his brother was there came with the added bonus to make sure Patrick didn’t have a change of heart regarding his love for Sophia. Once they were seen together at the ball, Patrick couldn’t easily change his mind. But above all, he wanted to celebrate his marriage and his wonderful wife.

“Why are you so happy?” he asked Grandmama.

“Waiting for all the guests to arrive here from England or other parts of the Mediterranean has been annoying but very rewarding. Look at Lady Acton. She’s panting. Her face is all red. She isn’t used to the hot weather, and I asked Rogers to have the path to the house lit with large braziers. It’s unbearably hot there. A sauna.” She smirked. “Lord Gully has sweat patches under his armpits. Lady Howe is so overheated she can’t even speak, thank goodness. She doesn’t say anything worth hearing anyway. She looks like she might have a fit at any moment. And Lord Lambton hasn’t recovered from the seasickness. He’s all green.”

Anthony frowned. “Grandmama, did you invite these people to watch them suffer in the heat?”

“I didn’t tell you anything so as not to upset you, but each and every one of them made cruel comments about your face after you showed yourself in the House of Lords.” She snapped her fan closed. “I replied to the comments with polite remarks, but they didn’t stop. A lady never makes a scene, but she doesn’t swallow insults without reacting, either. This ball in the middle of the Ionian Sea is exactly what they deserve.”

“Remind me never to upset you, Grandmama.”

“Your Grace, Gloucester.” Lord Lambton bowed, huffing. “Wonderful house.” He dabbed his green face with a handkerchief.

“I trust you had a pleasant journey.” Grandmama stopped a passing footman carrying a tray of canapés. “Would you like a canapé, Lambton?” She selected one with creamy cheese and watercress on top. “They are delicious. Some of them are made with smoked fish. You can taste the sea. Nothing like a rich meal after a long journey across the sea to restore the spirits.”

Lord Lambton pressed the handkerchief to his mouth. “If you’ll excuse me.” He hurried out of the ballroom.

He exhaled. “Grandmama.”

“What?” She had another canapé. “Lambton said you could find a job as a circus freak. Serves him right.”

“Stop torturing our guests.”

“No, I’m having too much fun.” She fluttered her fan and stared at a young lady who was whispering behind her gloved hand.

The whispering ceased immediately, and the young lady composed herself.

How Grandmama could do that was a mystery.

Anthony instead couldn’t take his eyes off his wife as she entered the ballroom from the balcony with Helen at her side. The trip to Mytos had healed her both in body and spirits.

“Isabella is enchanting,” Grandmama said.

“She is.”

“Even in that pink gown.”

“Please, Grandmama.”

“Well, tastes are tastes.”

Sophia came from the balcony as well a few moments after Isabella and Helen.

Even from across the room, he could tell Sophia’s cheeks were flaming red. She lifted her chin and marched towards them, her eyebrows drawing together.

“Something must have upset Sophia,” Anthony said.

“My, a von Gruner being upset by something. Why am I not surprised?”

Sophia stopped in front of them, clenching her fists. “You all lied to me. My father is right. We can’t trust the Beauforts.”

Anthony exchanged a glance with his grandmother. “About what?”

“Patrick had an affair with your wife, she became with child, his child, and then she lost the baby while she was married to you, but no one told me! I’ve just heard a conversation between Isabella and her sister about Patrick. I know everything.”

Anthony narrowed his gaze at her.

Grandmama regained her cold composure in a moment. “I must ask you to stop talking. We don’t want to make a scene.”

“I don’t care about making a scene when I’m surrounded by liars.” Her Austrian accent became heavy. “You’re a disgraceful family as my father says.” She turned towards the door and marched away in a flutter of blue satin.

“That little, unbearable brat,” Grandmama said, and he didn’t scold her.

* * *

Isabella fell silent, as did everyone else when Sophia crossed the ballroom with angry strides. She hadn’t understood the brief conversation Sophia had shared with the Dowager and Anthony, but something must have troubled her.

Isabella followed her among mutters and whispers. “Sophia?”

Sophia went down the stairs in the garden, quick in her slippers.

“Sophia.”

Sophia faced her. Anger flashed red across her cheeks. “You had an affair with Patrick,” she said without a preamble.

The accusation shouldn’t surprise her, but the tone hurt her.

“No. We were together only once. It was a mistake, but it didn’t happen again, and it was before he met you.”

“You carried his child and lost it.”

She had nothing to apologise for with Sophia. “Why are you so upset?”

“Not one of you told me anything.” Sophia raised her voice.

“Because it was none of your business.” Isabella matched the lady’s tone. “Besides, Patrick didn’t know about the child until a few days ago.”

“But he knew about the quick affair with you. I think I have the right to know that the man who wants to court me had an affair with his brother’s wife.”

“It’s up to Patrick to tell you about his escapades, but we all suffered through the incident and eventually moved on, and what happened between Patrick and me doesn’t affect you.”

“How can I trust a man who doesn’t take his responsibilities? How can I trust a family who keep secrets?”

That was a good question to which Isabella had no answer.

“Your family is corrupt,” Sophia said. “You don’t deserve my help. You can forget Maiden Hill. My father will do whatever he pleases with it. Even bring it down brick by brick.” She resumed walking away, but Isabella followed her.

Since Sophia wanted to throw the blame around, Isabella could do the same. “Maiden Hill isn’t just a house. It’s a precious memory. Your family have been nothing but cruel towards my husband by neglecting Maiden Hill. He grew up in Maiden Hill. His father died there. Yet you and your father don’t care. All for what? Revenge over a spite that happened decades ago. Perhaps your family isn’t as innocent as you think.”

Footsteps approached, and Isabella composed herself.

Patrick walked over to them. “Sophia. Please.”

“I don’t want to see you. The Dowager said the Beauforts have never faced any scandals. Well, enjoy your first one. Because I’ll make sure everyone, in every European court, will know who you are, Patrick—a libertine who got his brother’s wife pregnant.” Sophia marched away.

The threat hung in the night air like a ghost.

He exhaled, rubbing his brow. “I ruined everything. And the ironic thing is that I love her.”

“Give her time.” Not that Isabella thought Sophia needed only time but also a good dose of discipline. “How did she learn the truth?”

“Anthony told me she eavesdropped on a conversation between you and Helen.”

“And now?”

Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets. “And now the negotiation on Maiden Hill is over.”