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Chapter 1
Every mistake is precious.
I remember you telling me those words, dear Mother, as clearly as though you whispered them to me yesterday.
Every little, insignificant mistake we make teaches us truths about the world, truths that are necessary for building our character. And the more mistakes we make, the more equipped we shall be in our future life.
However, what you failed to mention was something I had to learn on my own. Not only do we learn from our mistakes, sometimes we have to pay for them, too.
For me, payment came during the dreadful night of the Duchess of Somerset’s ball…
The Honorable Isabel Lewis sat in the corner of the room, flanked by Lady Crosby and the Dowager Marchioness of Somerville. The older ladies were discussing some mishap or another, which Isabel was not terribly interested in. At least not at the moment.
At the moment, she was preoccupied with watching the servants fill the food trays and pour the punch.
Isabel enjoyed balls, but ever since the death of her parents, she had always attended them with one goal in mind: to learn from others and become a better hostess.
Evie—the Duchess of Somerset—was a duchess in her own right. She had inherited the title from her grandfather and wore the title proudly. It was a rare feat indeed and couldn’t have happened to a more deserving individual.
Everything was running like a well-oiled machine in Evie’s ballroom. The decorations were wonderful, the food was lovely, and the music was pleasant. There weren’t too many guests in the ballroom. At least, not so many that people were suffocating in the heat. The windows were open, allowing for a fresh breeze.
The ice had melted in one of the bowls by the banister. Someone needed to—the footman quickly stepped in and refilled it.
Isabel sniffed.Not a flaw in sight.
Well, maybe there was something that Isabel would consider a flaw. But it had nothing to do with Evie’s hosting abilities.
There was a man present in the room whom Isabel did not particularly find pleasant to see. It was her former betrothed, the Earl of Stanhope.
Stanhope and Isabel were hopelessly in love once upon a time, or at least that’s what Isabel had thought. But he proved rather quickly that he was not the man she had thought him to be. He had abandoned her during the most difficult time of Isabel’s life, the time when she needed all the love and support she could get.
That summer, Isabel’s family had received a missive that her brother Ben had died in action. Unable to cope with her grief, her mother had soon left this world, too. And right after her mother’s death, Stanhope had disappeared without a trace.
This would not have been the worst thing if Isabel had not found out that he had eloped with another lady shortly after. Only weeks after the tragedy at the Lewis household.
Isabel had never properly moved on from the pain of his betrayal.
How was she supposed to move on when the person she relied upon most left her during the most trying time of her life without so much as a word?
She tried to ignore the gaping ache in her heart, but every time she saw him, the raw injury bled a little more inside.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t want him anymore. It did not matter that so many years had passed. The memory of first love and first betrayal was difficult to shake off.
Isabel often fantasized about seeing Stanhope crawl on his hands and knees, begging for her forgiveness.
She did not want him, no. Besides, he was a married man, an entanglement she neither needed nor wanted. But fantasy wasn’t rational. It was just that—a fantasy. And there was something extremely satisfying about imagining a man who had abandoned her admitting to his mistake.
With a wistful sigh, Isabel got up, excused herself from her companions, and headed for the ladies’ necessary.
She wasn’t going to be invited to dance. She almost never was. Isabel was headed toward spinsterhood with sure steps, and she did not mind it one bit.
Her brothers were the only people who ever asked for her hand in dance, but they were currently occupied, discussing some gentlemanly business with a group of other men. This meant that Isabel was practically invisible and bored out of her wits.
She was looking forward to the next part of her life when she’d finally be able to happily retire to one of her brother’s numerous estates.
Soon, when Richard—Viscount Gage and the oldest of her brothers—finally married, she would not need to perform hostess duties for him. He’d have his wife by his side, and Isabel would be free to do as she pleased.
She already had a plan in mind. First, she’d go and visit her little sister, Samantha. Sam had gotten married last season and birthed a healthy babe a couple of months ago. Isabel had gone to visit her for a few weeks back then, but she had to return because of Gage’s upcoming betrothal ball. But once this business with his wedding was finished, she would spend a few months in the loving bosom of her sister’s family.
