Governesses Under The Mistletoe. Liz Tyner

Чтение книги онлайн.

       Chapter Ten

      William didn’t know if Isabel was aware he’d entered the parlour. He’d stopped at the doorway, watching. She was dressed for the soirée early, waiting for him.

      She gazed out the middle window of the three, framed by the opening. If butterflies could become women, then Isabel had once had wings. It wasn’t that she flitted around, although she could. Her reddish hair had the splash of colour that caught the eye and perhaps the same texture of a wing. The pale ball gown had hardly any hue in it except for the two flowing ties that attached at the back of her sleeves and flowed behind her. The fluttery azure fabric trailed down the back of her gown.

      How did one manage a butterfly?

      ‘Shall we leave?’ he asked. Her reticule and fan lay in the chair beside him. To see someone else’s property so at home in the chamber surprised him.

      She didn’t move. ‘I suppose it is time.’ She drew in a breath. ‘I should not be worried. In the past, I stood in front of people easily. It’s just now, it seems more daunting. The only person there I will know is your sister and she has said that her husband will certainly ask me to dance. I’ve met him.’ She looked at her accessories. ‘I do wish I didn’t feel so much that I will be noticed out of kindness or curiosity.’

      He leaned against the frame. He couldn’t suggest they stay home that night. She needed to be comfortable in society and, with her nature, she would be as soon as she had a chance.

      William snorted. ‘You will dance many times,’ he said. Cousin Sylvester would be sure to ask her as well. ‘If my cousin approaches you, he will push the conversation in the direction of Wren’s. He is an inquisitive little snipe, but we are related and he does have my horses.’

      She turned, the fluttery ribbons of her sleeves emphasising movement. ‘I won’t mind.’ Then her eyes widened before closing tightly. ‘But sadly...’ An internal wind buffeted her. Then she gazed again at him. ‘But how can I talk of such an event at a soirée? I was indeed too frightened to move. If not for your presence, I would have expired from fright.’ She touched the tip of her glove to her eye and wiped an imagined tear.

      He watched and she gazed back. Within moments, her eyes saddened so much he wanted to reach to her, but then her lips turned up. ‘I have heard but never tested it, that men do not always know how to speak with a tearful woman and might change the subject quickly.’

      ‘You’re quite good. How does one know if the tears are real?’

      ‘They’re real,’ she said, lifting her brows. ‘Always.’ Isabel stared at him with wide-eyed innocence, causing him an inward chuckle. Sometimes her naivety appeared skin-deep to him. He wondered, if under the fluff and nonsense, hidden even from herself, an old spirit fought to reconcile with the world.

      He held out his arm. ‘Shall we leave?’

      Her silent laughter brightened the room. She twirled and then closed the distance between them, the scent of roses swirling in the air.

      He lifted the reticule and fan, holding them in her direction. She took them.

      ‘Do you need anything else before we go?’ he asked.

      ‘Might you fetch me a compliment?’

      Lightly he rested his hand at her back, the contact warming him and bringing a flush to her cheeks. He closed out all other moments by leaning in, whispering so his breath touched her ear, ‘Compliments could not even begin to do justice to what I see.’

      Her fan tip moved up, sliding down the smooth skin of his cheek, and stopping just over his heart. ‘I think you managed it quite well.’ She examined him. ‘And I suppose your words of flattery are always real?’

      ‘Never doubt them.’

      She gave a tiny joust with her fan before putting it to her side. ‘I won’t.’

      She turned, preceding him, and his fingers stretched so that the ties from her gown slid through them like gossamer.

      * * *

      Isabel gauged everyone in the room had known each other since before she was born. She was certain even the younger women had inherited some knowledge of each other well before birth. One woman raised a glass to her lips and three glittering bracelets slid on her glove. Four musicians played and only about twenty people bustled about in the room.

      William led her to a woman and introduced her.

      ‘So at last we meet your love,’ the lady responded.

      William’s smile beamed. But his expression froze for just that instant the word love lingered in the air.

      Their eyes caught. ‘Yes, we have not been wed long,’ she said, looking adoringly at him. Now wed caused his warm brown eyes to have flecks that looked like spear tips. She didn’t wish to end the evening impaled so she struck the offensive words from her vocabulary.

      Apparently, he didn’t like profane speech.

      ‘Ah.’ A voice at her elbow jarred her. No one had been standing there a second ago. ‘I believe no introductions are necessary for me,’ the voice said.

      ‘They are.’ William’s smile never faltered, as he introduced his cousin to her.

      From a direct view, Sylvester’s delicate features and long-limbed stance would have made artists ask him to pose, but when his head turned and she saw his profile Isabel noticed that, when in shadows, he could have passed for a well-attired weasel, in a handsome sort of way.

      ‘May I have the first of what I expect to be many, many dances throughout the years?’ Sylvester bowed as he spoke.

      William answered as Sylvester finished the question, ‘As long as you mind your manners.’ The commanding inflection in his voice couldn’t be mistaken.

      ‘Correct,’ Sylvester answered, holding his arm for her to grasp. ‘I could never do anything else with my enchanting new cousin.’

      Sylvester whisked her away for a dance and she dodged his conversation easily. One didn’t attend a governess school without having lessons in how to handle impertinent questions.

      When the dance ended, he led her to the refreshments, and she suspected it was because the other guests had abandoned the area to begin a reel.

      ‘I am impressed,’ he said. ‘Both with my cousin’s choice and your ability to dance, not just with your feet, but with words as well, manoeuvring the talk back to me each time I spoke of Will.’

      ‘The two of you are quite close and I’m sure you know all there is to know of him and only wish to learn my thoughts on the matter. I assure you, I feel the deepest loyalty to William Balfour.’

      He grinned in response. ‘My loyalty to him comes and goes, and I know it is not possible yet for you to have found out all СКАЧАТЬ