Page 4 of Married to the Icy Duke
Breathing in, Isaac took a step forward into the ballroom. Deferential glances were shot his way, along with ingratiating smiles, but nobody was bold enough to approach him. Towering above the others, swathed in black velvet, he knew that he made a menacing figure.
He scanned the crowd, searching for a small figure darting between the adults. He was forced to turn his head more to his right side than to his left, to make up for his restricted field of vision. Having worn the tight eyepatch all day, the leather was beginning to make his skin sore. He looked forward to taking it off, but of course, he couldn't do that in company. Or around Thomas, as a child that young would doubtless be terrified at the empty eye socket behind Isaac’s eyepatch.
Enough!He thought to himself, with a flare of anger.Find Thomas. That is all that matters.
A rush of panic tightened in his chest. For a moment, cannons echoed in his head, and men screamed. He was on the battlefield once more, mud sliding under his feet, a roar of pain inside the right part of his head …
No. I’m not on the battlefield. I am in my own house, and I have a child to find.
He forced himself to stride forward grimly. People parted hurriedly to let him through, ducking their heads deferentially.He barely acknowledged any of them. His manners were bad enough that nobody would be too surprised. None but his closest friends were likely to stop him and talk to him, and so long as he steered clear of Tristan, he would be able to move through the crowd without being talked to.
The back of his neck prickled, a sure sign that he was being stared at. Turning, he saw a group of Orions huddled in the corner, faces grim and alert. In the center of them all was Gabriel Harding, the Duke of Stonewell. His eyes lingered on Isaac, drawn together suspiciously. He nodded, but Isaac did not bother to return the gesture.
He believed that the woman he had encountered earlier, being bullied by Lord Tabbish, was none other than Lady Charlotte, the duke’s sister. He had never really met the woman, but he knew of her reputation. Her most recent scandal involved attacking some fellow or another and shoving him into a fountain.
Privately, Isaac thought it was amusing, but apparently, Society disagreed. There’d been a good deal of talk about the previous Duchess, Lady Charlotte’s mother, but Isaac ignored that. He did not believe people should be blamed for the actions of others.
Even if theywereOrions.
The latter part of the ballroom was lined with mirrors, reaching from floor to ceiling and trimmed with gilt. It made the ballroom appear twice its real size and twice as full.
He caught a glimpse of himself striding grimly through the crowd and paused, staring. The crowd moved around him. If they thought it was odd for him to stop dead in that manner, nobody was foolish enough to say anything.
A tall, grim-faced man stared back at him, shoulders broad under a suit of black velvet, a blood-red, jeweled point at his throat. An eyepatch bisected his face, scars creeping out from underneath the patch. He saw an overlong nose with a kink in the bridge, thin lips, heavy black brows, and a single, scowling eye.
Mary said that Tommy was hiding,Isaac thought, swallowing.Why did she say that? Why did she sayhiding? Is he hiding from me?
This thought wormed its way into his heart, like a real worm eating through the ripe heart of a strawberry.
Raising a child, it seemed, was harder than he had expected. Doing it alone was … was …
He cut off the thought. Now was neither the time nor the place. Resolutely turning his back to his reflection, Isaac began to push his way through the crowd.
Thomas won’t want to run through the crowd,he thought.At least, I should hope not. He’ll be spotted quickly, and so far, no one has said anything about seeing a child. So, he must be hiding somewhere at the edge of the ballroom.
Isaac did not mind crowds, being tall enough to look out over the heads of the people around him, but even so, he let out a sigh of relief once he stepped out of the worst of the crush. As with most balls, there was a generous band of space ringing the room, where chairs had been placed against the walls. These chairs were for matrons and companions, for older ladies and gentlemen who would not miss a party but had no intention of standing on their sore feet for hours on end.
Curious glances were shot his way—older ladies, he had noticed, were a good deal braver than even the loudest and proudest young buck in Society—but he was not otherwise interrupted. Striding along the seats placed by the wall, Isaac peered under them, praying to see the glint of candlelight on a small pair of spectacles, a pair of bright blue eyes behind them.
What if he went outside? There are ponds out there. Trees to get lost in. It’s a cold night …
Fear closed icy fingers around Isaac’s heart, and he closed his eyes, forcing his composure back.
The footmen on the door would never allow Thomas to go outside unaccompanied. In a moment, I’ll receive word from Mary that the troublesome little thing has gone back to bed and is happily tucked up. We’ll laugh at all this, and I daresay I will have to apologize to Mary for speaking so sharply to her. Really, I had better stop dismissing nursemaids so easily. It can’t be good for Thomas.
And yet minutes ticked by, and no word came from Mary. Nor did Thomas appear. Isaac paused, heart pounding, and glanced around.
At that moment, as he stopped to draw a breath, a tremendous crash echoed through the ballroom, loud enough to halt at least a quarter of the conversations in the room.
Before he could even think twice about it, Isaac found himself racing towards the sound, heart thumping.
One of the refreshment tables had been disturbed. Half of the tablecloth was puddled on the floor, soaking in a pool of champagne. Broken glass crunched under the feet of a footman hurrying to clean up the mess. More footmen were coming behind him, along with Perling, the butler.
Isaac did not wait for them to arrive. Seizing the tablecloth, he tore it fully away from the table. The last of the glasses cascaded to the ground, and foaming champagne splashed onto his freshly-polished Hessians. He barely noticed.
Sitting underneath the table, hands pressed to his mouth, sat Thomas. His eyes were wide behind his spectacles, and it took Isaac a full, horror-struck moment to realize that the little boy waslaughing.
People had gathered, of course. He was aware of them whispering urgently behind his back, keeping to a discreet distance.
