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He dared to glance once more at the enchanting woman in question. He saw her laugh and his throat tightened. “I’m afraid that this is one lady who can’t be swayed.”
As Rem fell silent, he vaguely noticed that Mr. Longridge drifted off, likely to find more interesting conversation. However, it was difficult to be engaging when one couldn’t keep his eyes off the most beautiful woman in the room.
Rem sighed, and decided it was best if he turned his sights elsewhere that evening. No doubt the lady would be busy with the rest of her admirers.
He approached a charming young lady with blond curls and dressed in a pale pink muslin. He learned that her name was Miss Abigail Turnbine and she was a young, about the same age as his niece. Since he had already been escorting Portia about thetonthis season, it was nothing for him to chat with her in the same friendly manner. Once she learned he was a marquess, she practically hung onto every word that he uttered. When he asked her to dance, he could have sworn that stars danced in her eyes.
As they stood across from one another for a country reel, he spied Lady Isadora a short way down the line. When their eyes met, she inclined her head and offered a polite smile, but that was where it ended. She turned her full attention back on her partner, Mr. Longridge, and when the music commenced in playing theSir Roger de Coverly. he bowed to Miss Abigail Turnbine. The steps mimicked a sneaky fox attempting to outrun his captor, butit was when they made an arch for the other couples that things abruptly changed.
Lady Isadora was making her way down the line of couples, but someone jostled her and she stumbled into Rem. He lost his balance and fell to the floor—and took Isadora with him. She landed right on top of his chest in a jumble of limbs and skirts.
For a moment, he couldn’t move. The air was temporarily knocked out of him, but it had nothing to do with the tumble and everything to do with the feel of her curves pressed so intimately against him.
At her sharp intake of breath, he dared to look into her face; so beautiful, so close to his own. Her lips were parted slightly and practically begged for his kiss. He might have been tempted to do so had they not been assisted by the other guests.
“My lady! Lord Osgood! Are you both well?”
He wasn’t sure who had asked, but Isadora replied in her usual, calm demeanor, even if she was slightly breathless. “I’m fine. Thank you. I fear the marquess took the brunt of the fall.”
As hands reached for him and helped him to his feet, he quickly brushed aside the assistance. “I’m not so fragile that a brief tussle should do me such harm.” He turned to Isadora. “My apologies, my lady.”
“It wasn’t your fault, my lord.” She glanced at his partner, Miss Turnbine, whose face was red with mortification. “Accidents happen any time at any place. There is no harm done.”
“It was me!” the girl cried. “I was… woolgathering and not paying attention to the other dancers. I was tapping my foot too close to the arch and—” She promptly burst into sobs.
Isadora’s face filled with compassion as she walked over and placed her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “There, there. You shouldn’t fret about the incident so. Let’s go to the retiring room where you can properly compose yourself and enjoy the rest of the evening.”
Chapter Seven
Isadora waited patiently in the retiring room while Miss Turnbine used her handkerchief to dab at her face. Then she instructed her to apply a wet cloth to relieve some of the puffiness from her eyes and ease the red splotches on her cheeks.
After a time, the young blonde started to breathe normally and Isadora could tell that the hysterics had passed. Abigail blew her nose in the handkerchief and attempted to pass it back to Isadora.
She held out a hand. “No. Keep it. I insist.”
The girl smiled and gave a heavy sigh. “You are too kind, my lady.”
“I dealt with three younger sisters growing up, all of whom suffered from one malady or another.” She tilted her head to the side. “You are most like Olivia, I think. She also had light-colored hair and was particularly timid.”
Abigail sniffed. “Was she hopelessly clumsy as well?”
Isadora chuckled. “She wasn’t hopeless at all. And neither are you. Just a few months ago she married and became a duchess.”
Her eyes instantly widened. “Oh, my.” But just as quickly, thatballoon deflated. “I wonder if I shall ever have a beau.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I thought the marquess might have taken a fancy to me, and I daresay that was the reason my head was in the clouds instead of paying proper attention during the dance.” She looked directly at Isadora and gave a dreamy sigh. “Don’t you think Lord Osgood is quite dashing?”
Isadora’s lips twitched slightly. “He is very appealing, yes.” She wasn’t about to admit to more than that.
“I wish he would look at me the way he does you.”
This time, Isadora glanced at her sharply. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.” And yet, something deep inside told her that it was absolutely true. She had done her best to pretend nonchalance around the marquess because she knew it was needed for her own self-preservation, but if his regard was starting to be noticed by others, it could be just as damning.
Her companion shook her head. “No. It’s the same look my father gives to my mother. I’m sure that the marquess holds atendrefor you. You are a lucky woman to obtain such a considerate and kind man.” With that, Abigail stood. “Thank you for the handkerchief.”
She left Isadora sitting there with much to ponder. It wasn’t just dangerous to entertain the idea that Lord Osgood might feel more than simple friendship for her.
It was absolutely frightening.
As her hands started to shake, Isadora walked over to the mirror and found that her face was extremely pale. She pinched her cheeks to bring back some of the color and closed her eyes to breathe deeply. After a moment, she was feeling better, so she returned to the party.
