“You really are nothing alike. You and Valerie. There is something… wild about your gaze. It is… distracting.”
Isobel couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that how you knew I was not Valerie?”
Richard paused, then he replied, “No. That isn’t it.”
She waited for him to explain further, but he stood instead.
“That will be all for tonight. We will meet again tomorrow.”
Before she could respond, he took his leave.
CHAPTER SIX
Isobel awoke the next day with the resolve to find the culprit.
She did not wish to waste more time keeping up the charade that she was Valarie, instead intending to dedicate her time and efforts to uncovering the mastermind behind her affliction.
So that morning, she went downstairs as gracefully as she could, smiling brightly at any and all who crossed her path. Then she approached people, instead of letting them come to her at their own pace, wanting to get the pleasantries out of the way for the day, and also put into practice what she had learned the night before.
Richard was — frustratingly — right. People did love to talk about themselves. Especially when it was obvious that they had someone willing to listen. All Isobel had to do was ask a few leading questions, and they were telling her more than she needed to know.
She had approached a young lady whom she had seen the day before around Bridget and introduced herself, knowing that her name was Miss Maisel and she was accompanying her mother, who was friends with Deborah.
“I must confess, I am rather bored. Please do not be offended, I did not mean to be so rude,” Maisel responded when Isobel had asked her what she thought of the house party.
“Oh, no. You are my guest, and your comfort is what matters more than anything. You have a right to voice your opinion. Though I am sorry to hear that you are not enjoying yourself.” Isobel responded sympathetically.
“It is not your fault. My mama refused to leave me at home because she was worried I would be approached by our gardener’s son, Thomas. He is quite sweet and thoughtful, but I have told her not to worry because he doesn’t fancy me like that. I do — fancy him, but he spends his day pinning for my maid, Elise. I can see it. But mama said that there would be much more handsome men here, and well… only the Duke of Dellamere has caught my attention, but he is rather imposing, so I find it hard to approach him.” Maisel said with a wistful sigh.
Isobel nodded, inwardly sighing at how useless the conversation had been so far.
“Speaking of, I am very glad to see everyone in such high spirits, regardless of the lack of entertainment. I was worried others might fall ill. I wasn’t sure what I had eaten that made me sick, but I was concerned it might affect the other guests.” She saidquickly, hoping the sudden change in topic would not strike the other girl as odd.
But she did not suspect a thing, it would seem, and she shook her head.
“We were all worried when we heard you had fallen ill. I didn’t know it was due to something you had eaten. As far as I know, no one else had fallen ill.” Maisel told her with a small frown.
“Did you happen to see anything suspicious? Perhaps someone’s dog got a little too close to the dining table or something of that sort?” Isobel pressed, looking for some sort of clue.
“Not that I can recall. It was a rather… exciting morning, with everyone overjoyed about your approaching wedding. Most people did not want to even stay in their seats long enough to eat breakfast, and they kept trying to talk to you.” Maisel explained.
“Right. Well, thank you. Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Maisel,” Isobel smiled at her before briskly walking away.
She quickly picked another guest, buttering them up with flattery and compliments, innocently enquiring about their well-being and what they thought about the party.
“I cannot help but wonder about your groom, Miss Wightman. Are you certain he has every intention of getting married? It is rather strange that he is not here yet. A similar thing happened to my aunt’s cousin’s sister! Her betrothed claimed to be on hisway, and then he never arrived! Of course, they claimed that he was suddenly drafted for the war…”
“The only thing out of place was Aunt Beatrice. I saw her request for some brandy, and she mixed it into her tea! What a foul habit, I tell you – so early in the day as well. It did not come as a surprise to me when I eventually found her speaking to a shrub much later in the day. We must get that woman some help.”
“Something amiss? Oh no. How did you know I had been missing from breakfast that morning? All right – I will confess, but you mustn’t tell a single soul. A few of us chaps decided to set up a little gaming circle – just for fun. We play cards and chess… maybe sometimes a few stakes are introduced, but it is nothing nefarious, I promised. Do not tell my mother, she’ll have my head.”
The outcome remained the same the second, third, and fourth time around. They always had much to say, but nothing was relevant to the information she sought. Despite the disappointment over a morning wasted, Isobel couldn’t deny that she was impressed that what Richard had taught her was so effective.
As though he had been summoned by her thoughts, Isobel looked up and found him looking back at her, the corners of his lips quirked up in a self-satisfied smirk. It was clear that he knew what she was up to, and he thought it amusing for some reason.
Irritated, she grumbled under her breath, annoyed by his expression, and pretending her heart hadn’t fluttered when she noticed he was watching her.
Isobel grew tired of the guests and their fussing eventually, and she decided to take a walk outside. On her way out, she dropped her handkerchief, and when she reached down to pick it up, someone had already done so for her.
