Page 27 of The Notorious Dashing Viscount
She said it in a way that brooked no argument, so Isolde didn’t even bother.
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The Camden estate was certainly an impressive one. Isolde hung out of the carriage window in a distinctly unladylike fashion, watching the scenery flash by.
“Isolde, settle down,” Beatrice scolded, adjusting her shawl. Richard slumped in the corner of the carriage, looking miserable, and James sat beside him.
There was an air of tension in the carriage. It would be the first time Isolde had gone into Society after that wretched scandal sheet.
Perhaps it won’t be that bad, she thought, climbing out of the carriage, perhaps nobody really read it, or gave it any credit.
Then a gaggle of debutantes passed by, clutching glasses of weak punch, and all gasped in unison. They pressed silk-gloved fingers to their mouths, eyes wide, glancing at each other. On cue, a portly matron appeared – the mother of one of the girls, no doubt – and hustled them away, shooting a hard look in Isolde’s direction.
“Oh, dear,” Beatrice sighed. “Isolde, you must weather this.”
“I know, Mama, I know.”
They made their way around the side of the house, following a wide, smoothly paved pathway, opening out into a large, neatly fenced garden. It was a well-manicured place, with delicate flower beds and waist-high hedge mazes, gravel paths weaving through the shrubs and bushes. A circular courtyard stood infront of the French doors, with tables and chairs set out, and footmen waiting by the side of the house with trays of drinks and refreshments.
People were scattered all over the garden, clustered together in little knots, talking and laughing and drinking champagne.
When eyes turned towards Isolde, the smiles faded. In some cases, however, the smiles widened, and were hidden behind hands. She kept her head high and her chin tilted up, trying not to listen to the whispers springing up behind her.
They stepped onto the paved area, the four of them standing close together, and a little pocket of space opened up around them. A lump rose to Isolde’s throat.
It’s like I have a contagious disease, she thought, an ache lodging behind her eyes.
At that moment, Lady Wrenwood saw them, and hurried their way.
“Your Graces!” She greeted, all smiles. “And Lord James, and Lady Isolde! Welcome, welcome.”
Lady Wrenwood was an elegant woman of middle years, a well-liked, genial woman who was considered remarkably kind and pleasant despite her dragon of a husband. She shook hands with them all and leaned forward to whisper in Isolde’s ear.
“I read that article about you, Lady Isolde, and I was thoroughly shocked. Nobody of sense would give it credit, of course, but there are always some fools that believe everything they read.”
The ache in Isolde’s head got worse. She forced a smile. “Thank you, Lady Wrenwood.”
The woman gave her a reassuring smile. “I won’t have any comments made about my guests in my own home, Lady Isolde. If there is any impertinence, let me know immediately.”
Isolde managed to keep her face serene. Lady Wrenwood wouldn’t allow anyone to be unkind to Isolde during the party,but she couldn’t force people to speak to her.
“We’ll stay with you all afternoon,” Beatrice whispered, once their hostess had moved away.
“No, Mama. I’ll be fine.”
Frankly, the idea of being flanked by her family while everybody else whispered was sickening to Isolde. She would much rather be by herself. Then the whispers would only be for her.
“I’ll be fine,” Isolde repeated, and then spotted a familiar face in the corner. Her heart leapt. “Look, there’s Viola. I shall take my leave to converse with her.”
Before Beatrice could protest, Isolde hurried across a raked gravel path to a cluster of rosebuds by the bordering wall. Sure enough, Viola stood there alone, inspecting a half-blown pink bloom.
“Are you permitted to talk to me, after my scandal?” Isolde remarked, standing next to her friend.
Viola smiled wryly. “If anything, my mother secretly admires you for making a play for the Viscount.”
“I am not making a play for him.”
Viola shrugged. “It hardly matters. All of Society thinks that you are, so you might as well try.”
