She wished he might have a chance to do them, too. If they were anywhere but here—
But they were here. And Sophia was not far away. There was a limit to how long Eliza could keep her.
“When we return home,” she promised.
With a frustrated noise, he withdrew. But there was a wry expression on his face when he looked down at her. “What have you done to me, Isadora?”
“I don’t know,” she beamed up at him, “but I hope it may last.” She linked her arm through his, and after composing themselves, they returned to their party. Marie, Nicholas’s younger sister, had also joined the scene.
“You can’t juststopme from spending time with Ollie,” she was saying to Eliza, her cheeks flushed. “We will marry one day, you know.”
Eliza heaved a sigh. “All I’m saying, dearest, is that you should spend more time getting to know him before making such outrageous statements. And you can’t run away merely to sneak a moment with him. What if someone discovers you?”
Nicholas looked as though he might say something, but Isadora placed a hand on his arm. Marie, her eyes sparkling and her head thrown back, was the picture of defiance; to push against her now would only be to put her back up.
“Mr. Chant,” Nicholas said, a strange note in his voice. “That is the man you have been seeing, Marie?”
Marie turned to them, her face briefly splitting into a smile when she glimpsed Isadora, before she looked back at Nicholas. “Yes, Oliver Chant. Do you know him?”
“I…” Nicholas’s voice trailed away. “You truly like him?”
“He is excessively charming, and he thinks I am the most charming young lady of his acquaintance.” She gave a soft, lovely smile. “And it doesn’t matter to him what I am, so long as I amwhoI am.”
“That’s the most precious thing of all,” Isadora said earnestly, giving Nicholas’s arm a little squeeze. Theirs had not been a marriage of affection, but he had certainly not cared who her father and mother had been. Of course, rather than the sister of a duke, she was his social inferior by several rungs, but the end result was still the same. He didn’t care.
Nicholas glanced down at her, his eyes searching.
“Oh! You should meet him,” Marie blurted to Nicholas, taking his other arm. “Then you can judge his character for yourself.”
“What a good idea,” Isadora said pointedly.
“I quite agree,” Eliza sighed with a nod. “And if you approve, Nick, then I can wash my hands of the matter.”
“I suppose I’m left with little choice, then,” Nicholas murmured, still with that odd reserve in his voice. “Very well. I shall call on him tomorrow, Marie. Does that suit?”
Marie beamed at him. “You are perfectly the best brother!”
“You may want to learn the result of the meeting before making such declarations,” he said dryly. Then, looking from Isadora to Sophia, he offered them both a smile. “Shall we go home?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sophia chattered incessantly about the fair on the way home. Already, she had conceived an unlikely fondness for the silly-looking doll Nicholas had won for her. Then again, Isadora could hardly judge, considering her fondness for the book of dubious poetry she now harbored.
They returned home only to dress for the tiny ball Nicholas had promised Sophia, and as Isadora played the pianoforte, Nicholas danced with his daughter, treating her as though she was already full-grown.
After the day they’d had, Isadora’s heart felt full as she watched them bow and twirl across the room. Isadora and Sophia had practiced their dancing together specifically for this moment, and Sophia’s little face was perfectly serious as she went through the steps.
For Nicholas and Isadora, this was a little bit of fun and silliness, but for Sophia, it was her first taste of high society.
Isadora played until she ran out of pieces, and then Sophia took to the pianoforte, playing clumsily through a few jigs and reels as Nicholas took Isadora’s hand and led her to the floor. He drew her closer to him than strictly necessary, his eyes burning into hers, and she knew he hadn’t forgotten the moment they’d shared at the fair.
Was this what happiness tasted like?
When their dance came to an end, he kissed her hand politely. “My lady,” he said, oddly formal.
She curled a teasing brow. “As I’m your wife, you may refer to me by my name.”
“Isadora.Dora.”
