Page 15 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Well, she would show them that she, at least, knew civility, even if she rarely chose to employ it.
The soiree was held at a large townhouse, and Isobel immediately had the impression that the location—and event itself—was extremely exclusive. No wonder Lady Northley had been so nervous about introducing Isobel to the ton today, uninvited and unknown.
Determined to please, Isobel fixed a smile on her face and curtsied low when Lady Northley explained that she was visiting from Scotland and had connections to the Duchess of Somerset. Lady Rothbury could say nothing to that, although her lip curled at the sound of Isobel’s accent.
There was also the matter of her hair, Isobel thought ruefully. Red hair and freckles were hardly a common combination, especially amongst the ladies of the ton. If her accent were not enough, her complexion would be enough to set her aside from the other ladies present.
“Well,” Lady Rothbury said in an Arctic voice that more than hinted at her displeasure, “of course I could never turn away someone connected to the Duchess of Somerset.”
Eliza beamed. “Of course.”
Lady Rothbury turned away and Eliza led her away to find some lemonade. Isobel felt curious eyes on her as she crossed the large drawing room.
Lady Northley, after bidding Eliza to hold her tongue, allowed herself to be pulled into a conversation with another middle-aged lady.
“Ah, here they come now,” Eliza said as two gentlemen broke off from their groups to approach them. “I knew no lord could have a strange young lady at one of these events andnottalk to her.”
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Isobel muttered before making sure she smiled encouragingly at the first young man who joined them. This was not her favorite way to spend her time, but needs must.
“Lady Isobel, is it?” the first young man said. He wore his hair in the latest fashion and had evidently attempted something ambitious with his cravat. It did not look as though it had gone particularly well. “A Scot?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, dipping into a curtsy.
“Lord Bertram Lancaster,” he said with a small smirk that she knew from experience meant she was supposed to have heard of him. “Although I suppose you’re not familiar with the Lancasters, being as you are from over the border. Whoareyou familiar with?”
“Sheep,” another young man said and laughed. “I do apologize, my lady. No doubt you have avarietyof society in the Highlands. It is the Highlands, am I right?”
“I have spent some time in Edinburgh,” she said, biting her tongue so she did not throw his assumptions back in his face. To Eliza, she added, “Tha an duine seo na amadan.”
This man is an idiot.
Eliza giggled before saying, in her broken Gaelic, “Tha iad uile.”They all are.
That made Isobel smile. At least she had one person on her side.
“Do you dance, Lady Isobel?” another of the boys asked her.
His cheeks were a trifle flushed, and Isobel suspected he’d had more than one glass of wine. There was also brandy served in the card rooms, and she imagined he had indulged prior to coming here. After all, young bucks had nothing better to do than indulge in all their worst vices and then inflict them upon society.
“I do,” she said.
“Of course she does.” Bertram, Lord Lancaster, nudged his friend. “Every savage can dance.”
Eliza flushed with anger. “Leave her alone.”
“Don’t, Eliza.” Isobel put her hand on her friend’s arm. “I’msurethey mean no harm.”
“Of course not.” The inebriated one swayed a little on his feet. “What I meant to ask was have you ever danced with ahuman?”
Her spine went rigid. “As opposed to what?”
“A sheep!” He dissolved into messy laughter. “Or perhaps a pixie. I hear there are plenty there. And Highland cows, although you should watch their horns.”
“I doubt ye know very much about how to use a horn,” she muttered under her breath.
He frowned, obviously having heard a word or two of her comment and being unable to piece it together. She smiled sweetly up at him, resisting the urge to verbally attack him for his rudeness and ignorance.
Scotland was not a land of savages and brutes. They were not Picts with painted faces and bare chests, wielding axes and invading the English. They were British citizens, people making their lives just the same as anyone else.
