“Has he been treating you well, Isla?” Callum asked without preamble, his voice low as he raised an eyebrow to Isla. “Has he been unkind to ye? Because if he has, Duke or no Duke I swear I will wipe that damned?—”
Isla offered a placating smile as she put a hand on his arm, silencing him. “No, Callum, he has been perfectly proper. In fact, I have been enjoyin’ me time with his lad, Oliver. He is such a lovely, clever boy.”
“It is nice to see you too, dear,” Aunt Honoria said with a customary kiss on each cheek. She adjusted her jeweled headpiece to sit on her head and fluttered her fan as she surveyed the room. “Oh, look, Eilidh! The young Lord Barrington is quite fixed on you tonight. I can see him staring at you! He is positively drooling!”
Eilidh let out a sigh as she propped her cheek on Isla’s shoulder, shaking her head.
“Now, no sighs! Let your aunt do her work. You keep me alive,” she said as she gently nudged Eilidh.
“No pressure,” Isla joked to Callum, only with a light nudge.
“Just a quick turn about the room, dear. We must ensure he is well and truly snared before the third dance!” Aunt Honoria pushed.
Eilidh sighed, more dramatically this time. “But I just arrived, Aunt, and I am still catchin’ up with Isla!”
“Go on,” Isla encouraged with a soft push. “You shine, Eilidh. I shall be here later, enjoyin’ a moment of peace with a flute of champagne if I can find one.”
“The holiday punch is divine,” Aunt Honoria said with another flutter of her fan. “You should be sure to try some!”
With a final, obedient smile, Eilidh allowed Aunt Honoria to tow her into the throng of dancers.
Isla turned back to her brother, who was watching them. “And how are ye faring with the London lords,bràthair?”
Callum scoffed, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing servant.
“That well, aye?”
“Pompous. Every single last one of them. They talk of wheat prices, huntin’ for sport as if the world depends on it. I yearn for a good ride in the country, where I can break free. But still…” he conceded, straightening his jacket and standing tall. “I must brave it for the family’s sake, until Eilidh secures a match… perhaps even meself?”
“That is wise, surely you will have your pick of ladies.”
“If all else fails, we can always return home. Aye?” he joked, though Isla noticed the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
A familiar ache of homesickness tightened Isla’s chest at the thought of Dalrigh and simpler times when their mother and father were with them. She pushed it down as a passing servant handed her another flute of champagne. She took a long sip, letting the bubbles tickle her nose pleasantly.
“You can always come to me, Callum, if you need anythin’…” she finally said.
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Stop that, Isla. You cannae keep carin’ for me, or Eilidh, or anyone else, all the time. Ye are the Duchess of Ealdwick now. Ye must live yer own life. I am growin’ into me own. Ye cannae worry about me forever.”
“Aye, I daenae ken about that. I daenae think I can.” Isla smiled, but inside, she was uncertain how to even begin doing such a thing.
“Oh, bloody hell. I see one of those English lords we were talkin’ about… mind if I greet him? I can introduce ye, or I can be back in a moment and?—”
“Ye daenae need to worry about me either, Callum. I will be fine. I am a duchess after all. Who would have thought?” she said as she drained the last of her flute. “Go on, enjoy the party.”
Isla took another flute from a passing waiter and took another sip.
I must pace meself, but I need somethin’ to steady me nerves and do with me hands.
It took only seconds after her brother’s exit for the predators to descend like hawks.
A group of three ladies, all fashionably dressed and perfectly manicured, approached her. Isla noticed the other two were led by a woman whose smile was wide and laced with pure venom.
Absolutely serpentine.
“Your Grace we presume,” the snake purred, her eyes flicking over Isla’s face with a deliberate slowness. “We must congratulate you on your nuptials. Such a whirlwind affair! Onehardly had time to send a proper gift to Your Graces! Please forgive me!”
“It was rather sudden, but please trust we are most content in the country,” Isla replied coolly, maintaining the composure Society demanded. “Whom do I have the pleasure of?—”
