Only the best of the ton attend this party. And it’s dreadfully clear I am a mistake. If only they hadn’t decided that so quickly. Couldn’t I have an hour of peace?
She couldn’t find the wicked nose but Isla did spot something else.
Him.
Standing by a door off to the corner, one that clearly led to the ballroom, was the Duke of Westvale. It was a darker spot compared to the large double doors, so hardly anyone was over there. She couldn’t have missed him if she tried.
The man kept one hand behind his back while he fiddled casually with his pocket watch. Besides his hand, he was so still he could have been a statue.
Her stomach twisted with nerves. She didn’t belong here, but he clearly did. Somehow, he had bartered for her to be invited to the ball. Did he know it was a mistake now as well? Or did he still have to learn that awful lesson?
If only he were less handsome.
That, Isla thought, would surely help soothe her nerves. But the man was determined to be a problem. A devastatingly handsome problem. His dark brown hair was fashionably long and carried a strong wave. His shoulders were broad for his slight build, impressing might in the picture he made.
And then he turned to her with piercing blue eyes. She had avoided looking at him straight on all this time only to realize his gaze could sear her through her soul.
His glass was set down as he promptly started to cross the room.
Inhaling deeply, Isla whispered to a world that couldn’t hear her, “Don’t do it. Don’t…”
It seemed to her he was made of confidence. His stride was steady and he never glanced away. Almost like he didn’t know or care that anyone else was here.
But they were. So many people were here, and all of them were watching. Having tired of her, now they all focused on him. She eyed the audience who followed his every move.
They watched as he stepped up to Isla and offered her a short, polite bow. “Lady Isla.”
“Your Grace.” She returned it with a deeper curtsey, grudgingly accepting the hand he offered her.
“They watch because I don’t attend balls anymore,” he said in a low voice by way of a greeting. “You’ll get used to it. The stares.”
Isla forced a nod. “If you insist.”
He raised his eyebrow but said nothing more of the matter. In fact, he completely ignored it as he immediately asked her, “May I have the next set?”
Startled, she couldn’t help but ask, “What? Now?”
“The dancing has begun, yes. Are you declining my request?”
“Well, no.” Isla glanced about for her mother but the woman had disappeared. Invariably tightening her grip on the duke’s arm, she cautiously dared another look at him. It didn’t help as he continued to stare down at her in turn. “All right, then.”
“You are declining?”
“No! No, I am accepting. Yes, you may have the next dance,” she hastily corrected herself. She started to raise her free hand to her heart before decidedly putting it down.
For thinking herself bold and brave for so long, Isla feared she might have to reconsider. She had taught herself how to climb trees and ride horses and eat fish without making a face. But dancing with a duke? This was an entirely new world for her and she didn’t know what she was doing.
But she tried all the same.
The two of them crossed to the ballroom where they waited in silence for the dance to finish. She had yet to look at her dance card, nor had he offered to pen in his name. Perhaps it didn’tmatter. Isla didn’t think she would be dancing without anyone else tonight.
Soon, the song ended. Dancers moved about, and Ronan led her into position for a simply country dance that Isla was profoundly grateful for. The duke hardly seemed inclined to talk now, standing once more like a statue at her side, and she could enjoy the distraction of a dance.
Until he started talking to her. “How large is your family?”
Isla nearly stumbled over a step before continuing through with the twirl and returning to his side. “My family? It’s small.”
“How small?”
