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William led him over to a group of lords, some dressed as staid as Isaac was while a few had dandier clothes, but while a few looked surprised, they did not overtly show it. The Lords were polite and enfolded him into their conversation, and though they did not give any hints of duplicity or snideness, Isaac felt deep down that he was detached from them.
He excused himself to the refreshment table and poured a glass of water, only to have William crowd in on him, grinning. Without even having to ask, Isaac felt that his friend had another hair-brained scheme up his sleeve.
“What have you done now?” Isaac asked.
“I’ve gotten you a dance,” William grinned. “It with Lady Auclair, she’s this season’s diamond-of-the-first water, Montagu. Trust me; you will not regret this.”
“Oh, I will,” Isaac replied while putting down his glass. “And so will you, when I’m done.”
William’ grin only grew wider.“I’ll take my chances. You still remember how to waltz, correct?”
“Yes,” Isaac replied.
“Good, then come with me.” William nodded back to the ballroom’s floor.
In step with him, Isaac approached two ladies, one of them,stunning. Her hair was more silver than blond and was pinned up in an elegant updo with curls framing her flawless features. Her deep blue promenade dress—which matched her vivid eyes—clung lovingly to her willowy, elegant figure; she looked too damned lovely to be real.
She probably is…Helena taught that to me the hard way.
“Pardon me, Lady Auclair, and Miss Rivers,” William bowed. “May I present, His Grace, Isaac Montagu, Duke of Westwood. Your Grace, Lady Cecelia Auclair.”
“Pleased to meet you, My Lady,” Isaac bowed. “I do not know what devious machinations my friend has made to coerce you into a dance with me, but please know, I have no hand in any of it.”
“Non, monsieur,”Lady Auclair spoke with an enchanting French accent.“There were no machinations nor coercion, he simply asked my Mama, and she agreed.”
“Really…” Isaac eyed William with heavy skepticism.
“You wound me, good man, when my intentions were only honorable,” William huffed.
“That’s because only I know how capable you are in concocting indictable schemes,” Isaac drawled. “To this day, I’m sure not Master Fontainebleau knows whether or not you wrote that treatise on democracy, or if it was the ghost of Plato.”
“Again, you mock me, Plato was acollectivist,” William retorted.
“Touché,” Isaac said.
Lady Auclair’s lips were twitching.“I take it you went to school together.”
“Sadly, yes,” William said. “Eton and Cambridge, the longest ten years of my life.”
Then, the opening dance was called a waltz, and the announcer asked all parties to assemble on the floor. Isaac bowed.“May I, My Lady?”
She extended a gloved hand.“I would be delighted, Your Grace.”
He took her to the floor and parted to step away and wait for the music to start. When the beginning strains were in the air, he took her hands, and they began to glide. “Were you raised in France, My Lady?”
“I lived in Nice for seven years with Mama,” Lady Auclair replied, the soft lilt of her accent as musical as the symphony around them. “A charming little city, but I never forgot London. When my father decided to repair his marriage with Mama, we moved back here. And you, Your Grace? Have you lived outside of England?”
“Sadly, no,” he replied. “I have traveled to Scotland and Wales, but not for permanency.”
“For what reason?” she asked.
Thinking back to that time in his early twenties and how restless he had felt, Isaac replied, “I felt wanderlust, My Lady.”
“Ah,” she nodded. “I’ve found that to be happiest of all the soft maladies. I have been to Italy, and Spain as well, and their cultures are so diverse and interesting. I would have stayed longer if Mama had not feared more war was on the horizon. It's partly thereason I came back to England.”
“Partly?” Isaac replied as the music came to a crescendo. “And what is the other reason?”
“To find a proper husband,” Lady Auclair responded. “Mama is not satisfied that a foreign Lord would be best for me.”
