eighteen
By the time the ball to celebrate Anthony’s recovery—a masquerade—arrived, Isabella had changed her mind about Patrick’s proposal a dozen times.
He was charming, but the kiss in the park and his daring words had muddled her judgement. Using cold logic, she understood his proposal was madness.
Having a tumble with a gentleman just for the pleasure of it, without the prospect of a courtship, was against everything her mother had taught her. But exactly for that reason, a voice inside her head whispered, ‘So what?’
Why couldn’t she have some fun?
Gentlemen waltzed their lives from one bed to another, having mistresses before and during their marriages, frequenting brothels, sometimes taking advantage of the maids and governesses, and having affairs with other married women. No one was in the least outraged by their behaviour.
Why couldn’t a lady do the same?
Well, she didn’t enjoy the idea of having tumbles with every man she met, but Patrick was a friend. She trusted him. He wouldn’t blabber about her with his friends and ruin her.
Lady Mary’s story had taught her to be more daring instead of more coy, especially after Father’s cruel words. The way Mary was treated was unfair and brutal, and the more Isabella thought about her, the more she wanted to be a rebel and defy all the rules. Because if she cowered in front of the injustice, it would continue.
Besides, she had no suitors. Anthony had never mentioned his intention to pursue her ever again. The fact he’d agreed to the ball was encouraging for his health, but he wasn’t interested in her anymore. Not his fault, but Patrick’s proposal was too exciting. Patrick offered her the chance to be a true rebel. She needed only a bit of courage.
Armed with a new resolution, she adjusted her pink silk mask matching her gown. Helen wore a lovely blue gown with a blue mask that didn’t hide her sorrow. With all the bright lights and the sparkling chandeliers, her sadness was on full display.
The ballroom in Gloucester House was like a giant diamond made of light and sweet music.
“Why are you so forlorn?” she asked Helen.
“I didn’t want to come, but Mother insisted. She said I couldn’t refuse. As usual.”
“You should stand up for yourself more. If you don’t want to do something, you ought to tell her.”
Helen trapped her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t have anything else aside from a good marriage. Nothing to look forward to. No other option.”
“Poppycock. You’re clever and educated. You can do whatever you want.”
Helen didn’t cheer up. “And to be honest, I’m upset with the duke. He didn’t say a word about our engagement. He didn’t send me any messages. He shut himself in his house and forgot about me. But I have to come to his house when he orders so.”
“He was shot, for goodness’ sake, and we were in touch with his family. His life changed completely.” As his face.
Helen tilted her chin up. “I understand, but I had to move on and search for other opportunities although Mother said I failed.”
Isabella was glad the mask hid her frustration. “You failed at what?”
“At marrying a duke.”
“But it wasn’t your fault.”
Helen didn’t have time to answer. The master of ceremonies beat his baton on the floor, attracting everyone’s attention. The music stopped. “His Grace the Duke of Gloucester.”
The chatter and laughter died down as Anthony entered, looking strong and healthy in an evening dress. His silk mask left only his lips visible, and his long auburn hair covered the sides of his face.
Not an inch of his scarred skin was in sight. If one didn’t know Anthony had been shot in the face, it would be impossible to guess.
He greeted and bowed to his guests before heading to Isabella and Helen. The ladies talked behind their fans as he crossed the room.
She smiled, but her smile faltered when she thought about Patrick and their kiss, feeling vaguely guilty. If Patrick had talked to Anthony about it, she would burst into flames on the spot. Patrick had promised not to tell anyone, and she trusted him.
“Lady Helen, Lady Isabella.” Anthony bowed.
“We’re glad to see you well, Your Grace,” Isabella said, as she and Helen both dipped into a curtsy.”
