Page 23 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Chapter Seven
True to her word, Eliza escorted Isobel to other events. A ball, at which Isobel danced almost every dance and ignored the ladies whispering behind their fans.
A musical performance, held in a drawing room and featuring very indifferent performers.
And the opera, where Isobel heard her first English aria.
She gazed into the pit with wide eyes. A fiddle player at heart, she had always loved the freshness that came from Highland jigs and reels, but orchestral music always felt different to her. Not like the bubbling brook but a restless beast, a mountain of color. There was so much emotion that could be caught in a melody or a voice.
The violins’ melody soared to the rafters, and Isobel felt something in her chest give.
In a box opposite, Miss Wentworth pointedly ignored them. Most other young ladies followed her example, and whichever gentlemen vied for her hand did the same, but there were plenty other gentlemen who seemed intrigued enough by Isobel that they were prepared to brave Miss Wentworth’s disapproval.
One of those gentlemen leaned in closer. “Are you going to Lady Rutherford’s ball tomorrow?” he asked, the heat from his breath brushing her shoulder.
Isobel forced herself not to shudder and did her best to ignore the duke’s steely gaze between her shoulder blades.
They had barely spoken since their kiss four nights ago, and he did not accompany her and Eliza to most events, something Isobel told herself she was relieved about. Still, Eliza’s mother had fallen ill, and Adrian had stepped up, accompanying them both to their appointment to the opera.
And with Mr. Dunston, the gentleman who was currently breathing down her neck. She wished he would stop.
“I am, sir,” she said.
“Will you allow me the first dance?”
She did her best to give a coquettish smile. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
At the other side of the box, Eliza was busy flirting with two gentlemen of her own. Although she had professed to have no desire to marry, Isobel could not help noticing the ways in which Eliza opened herself to the prospect of love. One day, she hoped her newfound friend would find the romance she so craved.
Isobel felt as though her chances were somewhat less likely. But at least shehadadmirers.
The curtains rose, revealing the stage, and Isobel leaned forward, resting her head on her hands. The stage was made up as though it was the ocean, waves moving across the floor, and she stifled a gasp.
It was not the done thing to find such things so wonderful, but she couldn’t help it. Truly, it was something spectacular.
“I am excited for our dance,” the gentleman said, and habit had her returning a quick glance to him.
“Chan eil mi,” she muttered.I’m not.
He returned her smile, oblivious.
Adrian watched as Lady Isobel rested her head against her hands, braced up against the wall of the box, her eyes fixed on the stage beyond.
He’d had other things to be doing that evening—relating specifically to ignoring Lady Isobel and everything that had passed between them—but instead, he was here, watching an opera he had seen before.
Under other circumstances, he might have refused, but with Eliza and Isobel relying on him, he felt as though he could not.
She barely seemed to even notice the young buck at her back who so desperately wanted her attention. For all she claimed she wanted a husband—and certainly she did encourage the gentlemen who showed interest in her—it seemed feigned. Her intrigue for the opera felt far more genuine.
He scowled at nothing in particular. All his investigations into her past and history seemed to have revealed nothing of note. The MacAlisters were prominent family in Scotland, and the Glenrannoch estate was a large one. From what he could discover, the family was generally well-respected. Rossburn Hall, her father’s seat, was reportedly very beautiful.
So, with that in mind, why had she fled? And why was she being so very secretive about it?
Nothing added up. Evidently something significant had happened, but he didn’t know how her family had connections with him. Never mind why she had come to his mother now and not relied on the power and wealth of her own family.
Could she be flying from them? He’d heard nothing notable about the earl that might suggest he was a problem—he was neither a drunkard nor had he a tendency toward violence.
So why was she here? And why was she encouraging the young fools that panted after her despite a lack of real interest?
