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“What a lovely home,” Lady Stanhope exclaimed. “It’s so fresh with so many flowers!”
“I can’t take any credit for that, unfortunately,” Rhys answered. “The merit goes to my lovely wife.”
Lady Stanhope eyed Isabel queerly, and her husband seemed equally unable to take his eyes off Rhys’s wife.
Anger bubbled up inside Rhys. He didn’t want to stand there exchanging pleasantries with the man who had once betrayed Isabel and then accosted her on two separate occasions. He wanted to throw him out on his arse and lock the door.
“I hope you enjoy your stay,” Isabel said. “Our footmen will show you to your rooms.”
Stanhope tipped his hat. “I shall be looking forward to seeing you again during the party.”
Isabel’s fingers tightened on Rhys’s arm even further. As the couple left, Isabel turned to Rhys. “I had to invite them. My betrothal to Stanhope was public, and if I didn’t, there would be gossip,” she said in a flurry of words.
Rhys silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Isabel, I am not worried about that. I do not give a fig if they are here as long as you don’t feel threatened by him.”
“By Stanhope?” Isabel frowned. “I do not care about him one whit. I just worried that you—”
Rhys shook his head. “I’ll admit, it is not pleasant to see a man my wife used to be intimate with. But you’re mine. I won. And as much as I feel sorry for the chap, I am glad it turned out the way it did.”
Isabel didn’t say anything, but her eyes shone as she turned back to the doors to greet more guests.
* * *
Isabel glided from one group of guests to another the entire day. More carriages were bound to arrive during the night and on the morrow, but for now, she had to make certain everyone was comfortable and relaxed.
The acting troupe was performing short skits in the parlor. The play they were to perform was scheduled for the third day of the party, but they were invited to stay for the entire duration, and they did not mind entertaining people before and after their play.
She looked at the clock. The dinner would be soon, and before that, she wanted to see Millicent. Isabel hadn’t seen the girl the entire day, and she had missed her terribly. Millie was spending her day with Edith, so Isabel did not worry for the most part. They were supposed to be playing in the garden, and Isabel allowed them to go into the village if James accompanied them.
Still, Isabel wanted to know how Millie’s day went and if, perchance, she had met some of the guests’ children. It would be lovely if Millie could make friends with some children of her own station, but Isabel also feared that she would be teased.
Either way, so many thoughts about Millie swirled around her mind that she could not concentrate on her tasks.
She walked toward her husband, who was in a heated argument with some gentlemen by the hearth. They seemed to be discussing some important parliamentary issue, so Isabel hesitated before turning away. This could wait. The entire point of the house party was for Rhys to make connections.
“Isabel,” he called her back, and Isabel turned toward him.
“Vane, this is important,” one of the gentlemen barked.
“Yes,” Rhys agreed. “So is my wife.”
He sketched a bow and walked toward Isabel, his brows furrowed. “Is something wrong?”
Isabel’s cheeks were afire. “You didn’t need to….” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Rhys took her hands in his. “You looked worried. Did something happen?”
Isabel shook her head. “No, but dinner is approaching, and we need to change. I need to check in with the cook before that. But we didn’t have time to check on Millie yet.”
Rhys’s face softened in a smile. “It’s a good thing you interrupted then.”
“But your discussion….” Isabel peeked at the scowling men by the hearth. “It seemed important.”
“Isabel,” Rhys said emphatically. “Nothing is more important to me than you and Millie.”
Isabel’s heart soared, and she was suddenly weak in the knees. He offered his arm, and Isabel gratefully placed her hand on his sleeve as they moved out of the parlor.
She was grinning like a simpleton.
