Page 37 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)
Vincent sighed, leading her to the side of the main ballroom, where they might have more privacy from gossipmongers.
“He is my oldest and dearest friend, Isolde. I know the two of you have not always been friendly, but I had hoped that three years of distance might be enough for you to be civil in one another’s company.
” His grimace became more pronounced. “Besides, dear sister, it is mostly your fault that there is enmity between you.”
“I was twelve,” Isolde shot back. “And trying to get an apology out of him for you, that you deserved!”
Vincent nodded slowly, having heard this argument many times before. “And he was mourning the loss of his entire family, thus in no mood for a girl’s tricks and schemes. He has never been able to eat strawberry tarts again after what you did.”
Clenching her hands into fists, Isolde had to fight to regain her composure. Even from elsewhere in the palace, Edmund was unraveling all of the hard work that she had done to become a respectable, polite young lady: the kind that could make her mother content.
“ He behaved worse than I ever did after that incident,” she reminded her brother. “I cannot recall a single encounter since where he has not been utterly vicious to me. Why, I should say it was a greater test for my ladylike manners than any lessons a tutor has taught me.”
Vincent hesitated. “He teased you a little, that is all. I do not think it was worse than what you did to him.”
“Of course not, because he is your dearest friend and, in your eyes, can do no wrong,” Isolde grumbled. “Honestly, I would like to see you withstand such teasing. Then, you could deign to tell me how I feel.”
They were interrupted by the shy clearing of a throat, and, for an awful moment, Isolde feared that Edmund himself had crept up on them. Instead, she looked upon the bird mask and kind brown eyes of Colin Ward, Marquess of Fenton.
“Apologies for the intrusion,” he said, adjusting his posture. “I believe we are to dance the next set together, if you are still willing? Of course, if you are in the midst of something, then I shall return when it is more convenient.”
Isolde brightened, shuffling off her irritation like a heavy cloak after a walk in the rain.
“Now is perfectly convenient,” she said softly.
“My brother and I were just having a lighthearted quarrel about nothing much at all. It is assuredly a family’s prerogative to squabble now and then, for I believe it shows you care. ”
Colin chuckled, gazing at her as if she were the most precious thing he had ever seen.
She would have been lying if she said it did not feel good to be so admired, after all of the effort and determination she had put into being a refined lady of the Ton .
Anyone would have been pleased by the reward after such hard work.
“My brother and I never cease our quarreling,” Colin said, offering his arm. “If we ever did, I would think that something was wrong with him.”
Isolde laughed daintily. “Quite so!”
“I shall restore Lady Isolde to you after the dance, my lord.” Colin bowed his head to Vincent.
“There is no rush,” Vincent said slyly, blue eyes glinting with mischief. “If the compulsion should arise, and my sister is amenable, dance two dances.”
Not content with letting her brother off the hook, Isolde leaned in to Colin’s ear. “He is eager to retreat to the smoking room before any lovely young ladies compel him to dance. The poor soul has two left feet.”
Colin stifled a snort, turning his warm brown eyes on Isolde once more.
“Meanwhile, I should hate to be in the smoking room—at least while you are still in the vicinity. Who would choose the company of gentlemen over the prospect of catching a glimpse—perhaps, even dancing—with the most beautiful lady in all of England?”
Remembering to be modest, Isolde made a show of glancing this way and that. “Where is she, Lord Fenton? Might you point her out so that I might witness this rare creature?”
He beamed at her. “We would have to find a mirror for that, Lady Isolde.”
“Oh!” Isolde snapped out her fan, half-hiding her face behind it. “What a charming gentleman you are, Lord Fenton, though you flatter me too much. I cannot accept such a compliment, but I will accept a dance.”
She was as eager to be on the dance floor as Vincent was to reach the fog of the smoking room, though she doubted he would actually sneak off. He had a sister to chaperone, and he would not neglect his duties for the sake of port and cigars, regardless of his claims to the contrary.
Looking as proud as a peacock, Colin led Isolde toward the dance floor, but not before she made another discreet view of the guests in the main ballroom. News of Edmund’s return had left her restless, her chest uneasy with the sort of nerves that struck before an important recital.
Her stomach dropped as she caught sight of a towering figure leaning against the entryway to the ballroom.
Dark brown curls, with an undertone of auburn, framed a smirking, annoyingly handsome face, while eyes the color of sapphires twinkled smugly, unfettered by any mask despite the fact it was supposed to be a masquerade ball.
A few ladies were making eyes at him, no doubt ‘charmed’ by his rebellion against the nature of the ball.
Isolde could imagine them whispering of how daring he was, to show up without a mask, nudging each other to walk past him or drop something in front of him—anything to capture his attention in return, though his attention was firmly fixed on Isolde.
She glared at him, wondering if he knew it was her or if his face had just stuck that way, forever etched with haughty self-importance.
Why come back tonight of all nights?
Of course, she already knew the answer: he wanted to ruin her debut. Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all, and it appeared he had waited six long years to exact it.