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Realizing that her companion had been conversing too much with Deana, Lady Isabella split her attentions between the two men for the rest of dinner. Deana was content to ignore the looks of admonition from Lord Rockwell despite the warning from her wiser self that she was being foolhardy. She knew he was not pleased and suspected it had to do with the nature of the relationship between Lady Isabella and Lord Devon. Well, she did not intend to be the recipient of his frustrations over Lady Isabella.
“Shall I have the card tables brought out?” Madame Follet asked when dinner had concluded and the guests had risen to their feet.
“Surely you will grace me with sitting at the same table?” Lord Devon requested of Deana. “I insist upon a game of vingt-et-un.”
Lady Isabella waivered and had to grasp the arm of Rockwell to steady herself.
Deana smiled at Lord Devon. “Of course.”
Rockwell’s jaw hardened. “Miss Sherwood and I will be unable to join as we have matters to attend.”
Lady Isabella frowned. “Matters to attend? But the night is young yet.”
Madame Follet intervened. “Lady Isabella, as this is your first visit here, I wish to show you my private collection of paintings. I can tell you are a woman of refined taste and will appreciate the artwork.”
Even in her inebriated state, Lady Isabella was too well brought up to refuse her hostess.
Deana wondered if she, too, should attempt to persuade Rockwell to join the rest of the party, but her thoughts were slowed by the wine. She felt Lord Devon at her elbow.
“My invitation still stands,” he purred. “If you find you seek more excitement, the East Wing will provide it. The Baron Rockwell is no stranger there, but neither is his presence required.”
They both looked up to see Rockwell staring down at them. Lord Devon cleared his throat and sauntered to where Lady Isabella stood. Rockwell extended his arm, which Deana took reluctantly.
She swore to herself. It was obvious Rockwell was not happy.
Chapter Ten
WITH MISS HERWOOD UPON his arm, they proceeded back to her chambers in silence. Miss Herwood had defied him twice. Blatantly.
Halsten attempted to calm the boiling of his blood. She was not wholly responsible for his discontent, he allowed, but she had seen his disapprobation and willfully ignored him, partaking freely of drink and encouraging the attentions of that rakehell, Lord Devon. Devon was worse than the Earl of Blythe for the former knew no discretion and chattered away more than a member of the fair sex. How could Isabella have attached herself to such a man?
He had tried to ascertain the answer to that question during dinner, but Isabella had been hell bent on flirting. That she could so easily disengage her attentions from Lord Devon to himself eased his concerns a little, but her unexpected appearance at the Chateau had him taken aback. He recalled their courtship two Seasons ago and could not identify anything that would lead him to believe her a candidate for the Chateau Follet.
The daughter of the Duke of Trent, Lady Isabella was much admired among the ton for her beauty and had no shortage of suitors, especially given her dowry of twenty thousand pounds. Isabella had entertained his suit initially but then waivered in her reception. In retrospect, she might simply have been engaging in one of those courtship games favored by the fair sex wherein the lady encourages a man’s affection and ardor by rebuffing his attentions. A game that Halsten had little patience for.
In contrast, Miss Herwood’s guileless manner appealed to him. Her situation made her an unsuitable mate, of course, and even if he had less regard for how society might receive such a match, he could not entertain the possible negative effects on Lucy’s future. But try as he might, he simply could not excise Miss Herwood from his mind.
Remembering the easy manner in which she conversed with Lord Devon, he said, “I forbid you to speak to Lord Devon.”
She withdrew her arm from his. He knew that she would not take kindly to his demand, but he could not resist the effects of jealousy.
“I speak in defense of your interests,” he added. “He is not a man to trifle with.”
“Because he might taint my virtue?” she replied. “He would not be the only one with such an honor.”
He felt the heat rise above his neck.
“You need not worry of me, my lord. I have seen many a man like Lord Devon. Might I suggest your efforts be better spent protecting the honor of Lady Isabella? She has much more to lose.”
He had been tempted to issue just such a caution to Isabella, and he fully intended to speak with her at a more sober moment. He wondered when to seek such a time and remembered that Lord Devon had referenced the East Wing. Good God, did Isabella know what lay in store in the East Wing?
Gauging his thoughts, Miss Herwood said, “She is quite the beauty.”
“She has more beauty than sense,” he thought aloud, but feeling himself closer to the true subject of discussion, turned the focus back on Miss Herwood. “You should not have encouraged the attentions of Lord Devon.”
“It would have been rude not to speak to him, and as you and Lady Isabella were quite engaged, I had few options.”
The truth of her statement did not satisfy him. “You know the rules.”
