Page 15 of A Dangerous Little Scandal

He withdrew the watch attached to a golden fob on his waistcoat and checked the hour. It was precisely half past nine. Since he didn’t wish to keep Lady Isadora waiting, he smoothed his hair and walked out the door.

As he strode down the hall, he saw her exit her rooms. He walked toward her with a broad smile on his face. “I would say that was almost providential timing,” he teased.

She turned her head and lifted a coy brow. “I daresay you are right.” She wore an unassuming, navy-blue pelisse and carried a white reticule. Although she didn’t have a maid to assist her, he couldn’t help but notice her dark hair was drawn up into an elegant chignon, a few, soft curls left to dangle around her face.

It wasn’t until they were on the way to the assembly rooms that he noted, “It seems you’re faring well without the services of a maid to attend to you.”

She turned to him with a quirk of her lips. “Independent woman, remember?” she teased. “Truly, though, growing up I never cared much for the services of others. I know I’m a duke’s daughter and I should appreciate the position I’ve been given, but for the most part, I gave my maid at Marlington Hall leave to sneak out of the house to meet her beau.”

“Ah, interesting. Who would have thought that Lady Isadora Bevelstroke had a romantic heart?”

She snorted. “Not a foolish one, mind you. She was already betrothed to the butcher’s son, so I decided it wouldn’t hurt if they spent some extra time together. And it wasn’t as if I couldn’t find a way to set an iron and curl my own hair.”

He chuckled. “No, I imagine you were perfectly capable of figuring it out.” He slid a glance at her. “I suppose you were always a woman who was determined to live life on her own terms.”

Instantly, it seemed as though a shadow passed over her eyes, but she turned her head away so quickly that he couldn’t be sure. Nevertheless, he thought he heard her whisper, “Not always.”

Lord Osgood hadno idea how close he was to guessing that, despite her usual composure, her heart did possess the same thrumming beat of poets and bards. She had just learned that they were fanciful dreams, like the knight on a white horse, charging to rescue the lady being held captive in the tower by the fearsome dragon. It had taken no more than one time for her heart to be shattered for her to focus on the things that really mattered—her family and her talent for business.

It wasn’t until the marquess drew to a halt next to a two-story building that was lit up from within by flickering gas lamps, that Isadora donned her usual armor, the shield that kept herprotected from the unwanted advances of gentlemen, and that kept her mind focused on her purpose for being there.

As they walked in, she removed her pelisse and handed it over to the attendant inside. When she turned, she caught a particularly odd expression on Lord Osgood’s face. His focus was riveted on her light blue gown with its gold threaded embroidery.

She immediately glanced down, thinking that something was amiss. “Is something wrong with my gown?”

“No.” His voice sounded raspy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Not at all. You look lovely, Lady Isadora.”

She relaxed slightly and inclined her head at the compliment. “Thank you.”

As they entered the open area of the assembly rooms, Isadora was surprised to find that there were several people in attendance, more so than she had expected. But she supposed Newcastle was a bustling town of the future, so it stood to reason that more people would be leaving the crowded confines of London to find opportunity elsewhere. And the rail system was certainly that.

“Ah, Lord Osgood. Lady Isadora.” Mr. Longridge spied them and was the first to greet them heartily. “I’m glad you could join us this evening. I’ll try to ensure that conversation isn’t completely about business, but I can’t guarantee it won’t be so.”

“As long as we can find time to discuss the weather I’m satisfied,” Isadora teased lightly.

He laughed. “I appreciate a lady with a sense of humor. Perhaps you will honor me with the first dance of the evening?”

“I should say not.” George Stephenson stepped forward with another man. He took Isadora’s hand and bestowed a light kiss upon her white gloved knuckles. “I think I should have that advantage.”

Isadora laughed gaily as they argued over who she should favor the most. Instead, she turned to the newcomer who wasyounger than Mr. Longridge and Mr. Stephenson, and said, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced, sir. I think I should like to offer you the first dance of the evening if you are so inclined to humor an independent lady.” She held out her hand. “I’m Lady Isadora Bevelstroke, here on behalf of Lord Somers. He has partnered with Lord Osgood to assist in the development of the rail system in town.”

He bowed politely over her hand, and she couldn’t help but note that he had russet hair that was very similar to that of Lord Osgood. “Mr. Richard Grainger, at your service, my lady. And I would be honored to stand up with you for the first set. It is regrettable that you will not be able to meet my wife this evening, but Rachel is currently lying in with our fourth child.”

“Allow me to offer my felicitations, sir,” she returned politely.

Mr. Stephenson walked over and clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Richard, along with fellow city council members, are working on changing the layout of this fair city to give it a more sensible, neoclassical style and to make it appealing to visitors around the area. It’s further proof that we are paving the way for the future.”

“That sounds rather impressive, Mr. Grainger,” Isadora noted. “I can’t wait to behold the finished projects.”

He held out his arm to her as the musicians began to tune their instruments in the front of the open area. “I would be glad to discuss it in further detail over our promised dance, my lady.”

Remington watchedas Isadora walked away on another man’s arm. It didn’t matter that the man was married with a full nursery. There was a decided twinge in Rem’s chest that told him he didn’t approve. But since he had no true reason to get upset over a harmless dance, nor did he have any sort of claim on the lady, he turned away from the distracting scene.

“Lady Isadora is becoming quite the industrialist herself,” Mr. Longridge said in an aside to him as Mr. Stephenson strode off to speak to other guests. “I should think that if you wished to rein her in, you should do so at the earliest opportunity before some other lucky chap beats you to it.”

Rem snorted. “The lady has made it perfectly clear where she stands on marriage.”

His companion shrugged. “That doesn’t mean her mind can’t be changed.”

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