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Chapter 7
They returned to the table just in time for the toasts to start. Isabel sat grinding her teeth, listening to the insincere wishes of good health, grand love, and a brood of children.
After every mention of children, old matrons and young ladies alike gave the customary once over along Isabel’s length. They were clearly thinking that at her age, she’d be lucky to bear one child, let alone an entire brood.
Isabel kept her back straight and her smile wide. She pretended that those scathing looks didn’t hurt; she pretended that the whispers didn’t sting while she had all those doubts herself.
She knew there would be no grand love between her and her new husband. But what she did not know was whether she’d be able to perform her wifely duties.
She had been a hostess in Gage’s house since she was three and twenty. She knew how to run that house, how to arrange balls and soirees. But she’d always had the supportive hands of her family at her back. Now, she’d be living with complete strangers and the husband who loathed her.
Still, she was determined to carve out a piece of heaven at his remote estate. But first, she’d need to give him an heir. And just like most of the guests present at her wedding breakfast table, she doubted very much she’d be able to perform this duty.
As the last toast rang, Isabel sagged against her chair, glad that this part was finally over. But her relief was short-lived. At that moment, a frail old lady—the same lady who was responsible for drawing too much attention to Isabel and Vane’s plight in the corridor—the woman responsible for gossip that pushed the two to marry—stood from her chair.
Isabel hoped she’d thank the hosts and say it was time to leave. Instead, Lady Crosby looked from bride to groom a few times before saying, “We’ve spent the entire morning at your wedding breakfast, and yet, we’re still to hear this grand love story of yours!”
Isabel blinked.What?
“I beg your pardon?” her husband asked in a low voice from the other side of the table.
“The invitation,” the woman said loudly, waving said invitation in her hand. “It stated that we were invited to witness a celebration of true love. Yet nobody told us the story. I, for one, am dying to hear it.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Isabel ground out between her teeth.
“Did you say something, dear?” Lady Crosby turned toward Isabel.
“No, my lady,” Isabel answered sweetly. “Just that my husband tells the story so wonderfully. I would love to hear it again, too.”
She turned toward the Marquess of Vane, laughter in her eyes. She was certain he’d deflect it back to her and was already coming up with a story she could pass off as agrand love storywhen Vane stood.
“Very well,” he said and pierced Isabel with an intent gaze.
Isabel started to regret her impetuous words. What could he possibly say that would sound romantic? Or was he determined to ruin her? Surely not! His reputation was on the line, too.
“Isabel,” Richard murmured at her side and then tipped his head toward her glass.
She turned to look at her hand and realized she was squeezing the poor glass so tightly it was ready to break. She relaxed her hold and smiled at Richard.
He furrowed his brows and mouthed, “Are you well?”
Isabel nodded and turned back to her husband. He stood with a glass in his hand, his gaze still on her, a frown of concentration on his face.
“It was love from first sight,” Vane finally said, then cleared his throat. Isabel almost groaned. This was going to be terrible. “Or at least for me, it was.”
People around the table started chuckling, and Isabel looked around. Everybody’s attention was riveted to her husband.Good. Nobody was paying her any heed. She turned back to Vane, biting on her lower lip.
“I was a young boy, visiting my uncle who happened to be neighbors with Viscount Gage,” he continued, and Isabel frowned.What is he on about?“One day, I was walking through the forest and stopped for a rest by the stream. I was tired. I disliked my new lodgings, and I just wanted to go back to school. I was very young, you see.” He paused.
Isabel wondered if he was concocting the story on the fly. But why would he start so far in the past? So many years before they’d actually met?
“Just then, I saw a beautiful young girl wade through the water, walking along the stream. She was barefoot, with her skirts hiked to her knees—scandalous—but we were too young for that yet. She raised her head toward the sun, scrubbed her face, and laughed. The sound of her laughter was the most beautiful melody I’ve ever heard. She waded through the water, a wood nymph, a siren, a Goddess.” Vane shook his head as if waking up from a daze. He then turned and looked Isabel straight in the eyes. “And I was hopelessly in love.”
“Oh, my!” “How romantic!” people started exclaiming from their seats.
Isabel’s neck heated, and she found it hard to breathe. Vane’s gaze was still trained on her, and she felt decidedly uncomfortable.
“She did not know I was watching her, of course, and I thought it indecent to keep watching her without her realizing it,” Vane continued with a chuckle. “So I decided to make myself known. I stepped closer, not taking my eyes off her… then tripped and tumbled in an undignified heap.”
