Ushering Amber down the hall, she tried to push back the guilt. Though she would have to find a hackney to deliver her to theball, it would surely be warm and comfortable and filled with food since Lady Hamperstan knew how to throw a memorable affair. Meanwhile, she’d be leaving Amber and the other three servants behind in a drafty household with little food in the cupboard.
It didn’t take long for her to prepare for the ball. She wore her best dress that she had spent all week mending, a soft yellow dress that her mother once said made her eyes sparkle, and donned the thickest shawl of the lot. Hopefully no one would see it upon her arrival.
“Good luck,” Amber murmured once she had seen Isabel to a hackney. “You’ll be safe?”
“Of course I shall. I have a key in my reticule, so get yourself to bed. Use the last of the coal and warm yourself, dear,” Isabel added gently while tucking her skirts beneath her. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
And then Isabel put on a brave smile for the evening.
Stares pressed her the moment she arrived. Even though she’d halted the hackney before anyone could see what dire straits she lived in, Isabel felt everyone watching while she offered up her cloak and tried not to shiver. Instead, she fixed her shoulders to go greet her hosts.
“Lady Isabel, you made it. What a pleasant surprise,” Lady Hamperstan said in the receiving line with a rigid smile. Shemotioned to her husband, the marquess. “Look, my dear. Lady Isabel has joined us.”
The man glanced at her over his spectacles. “Interesting. Good evening,” he added after his wife nudged him. “Welcome.”
Noticing the way they avoided mentioning her family or the family name, Isabel wondered if she should be grateful or upset. It was awfully complicated of late to know just what to feel.
Not enough heirs to an earldom have financially ruined their family, I’m afraid, for me to know what I’m supposed to do or how I must act.
All Isabel knew how to do was act the part of an admiring young lady. Upon her coming out three years ago at eight-and-ten, she had been welcomed with warmth and excitement. There were constant suitors and friendly smiles, an endless flow of invitations. She had danced until dawn, flirted prettily, and had thought she had the world at her feet.
Everything had been going so well. This was supposed to be her year to marry, to revel, to love everything. But early summer had changed her family’s life when her brother was caught embezzling funds from the Crown.
Thomas, why?
Most of the matter had been righted. But her brother had been guilty. He pled innocent, dragging down others without titleswho were sent away. But as an heir, Thomas talked them into his freedom. And then when they promised no punishment, he still had slunk off in shame. The stain was there no matter what. Now her parents too had run off to the country, even after Isabel refused.
And now she was alone.
Isabel felt this more than ever as she entered the ballroom, seeing the wash of warm candlelight and bright music echoing off the walls. She was surrounded by smiles and laughter and beauty. Only none of it was directed to her. No one even wanted to brush by her, leaving a wide gap wherever she walked.
After it was clear no one would speak to her, let alone invite her to dance, Isabel took her strained smile to the edge of the ballroom where the terrace doors were cracked open for fresh air.
Snow began to fall. Glittery white clouded the dark evening. She watched it, telling herself she was not hiding. She would not disappear in shame. She was still here. The Ravenshaw name would be defended.
We are not broken. I am not broken.
“Good lord,” came a loud familiar voice with a heavy sigh. “What a stink we have here. I couldn’t possibly imagine where it is coming from. Can’t we open the doors?”
Spine stiffening, Isabel turned.
She couldn’t stop the blush creeping her cheeks when she met the gaze of Lady Lucy Trembling, a young lady Isabel once thought might become her sister-in-law. But after Thomas’s name showed up in the papers, Lady Lucy cried it was a trap. Isabel had thought they were friends. The malice in the blonde’s eyes told her otherwise.
Around Lucy stood three gentlemen, all chortling. They, however, couldn’t bring themselves to look at Isabel.
“We can open the doors wider,” offered one of them.
“I think it best we find another location,” suggested another.
Lucy twittered, flashing her fan. “What clever gentlemen you are. Oh, having such grand and handsome company is terribly overwhelming. Whatever shall I do with all three of you?”
Hearing them natter on had Isabel clutching her hands into fists because she knew there was nothing she could do. Nothing she would do. Goodness gracious, she would never stoop so low to be insulting. No, she would be better than Lucy. She would be better than all of them.
She tried, at least. But it proved nearly impossible that evening to creep out from under her brother’s shadow.
When she stepped out into the hall to escape the crowd of the ballroom, Lucy found a familiar face right outside the cards room. Lord Percy Gright. They had begun courting recently when Thomas’s faults had come to light, and she had hoped…
She passed by to meet his gaze, wondering if he might greet her. At least a nod. A smile, even, would do wonders for her spirits.
