Chapter 5 #2
There was still some time before she was to meet Richard — much to Isobel’s frustration — and so she pondered on what to do in order to pass the time.
She considered drafting a list of potential suspects, but she did not know enough names — other than the few she had learned by chance — or even found enough people suspicious to draft a list.
Still, she pulled a piece of paper from the desk drawer she had seen Richard retrieve some earlier, then she wrote down two names. She stared at the rather vacant list for a moment, then she tucked it away in the drawer.
Then she lay on her bed, imagining what life would be like once this assignment was over. Although it had only been a day since she had arrived, she was quite eager to leave, already tired of feeling out of place.
The guest seemed nice, but Isobel believed it was only because they thought she was someone else. The flaw lay within herself, which was why London’s high society had rejected her after a singular glance.
She bore no shame over how she was raised or who she was, but she couldn’t help but feel as though she had disappointed her siblings and her parents.
The thoughts swirling in her mind left her feeling even more exhausted than she already was, and she did not realize that she was falling asleep until it was too late.
Eventually, she awoke with a start, her heart racing as she sat up in bed, trying to convince her mind to work as it should. The house sounded quiet, and just as she noted how late it must be, she recalled the engagement she had for tonight.
“Oh no,” she mumbled, quickly climbing out of her bed and running out of the room.
In the hallway, she realized she did not know where the library was and had forgotten to ask where it might be, groaning lowly as she began to hurry in search of it.
Fortunately, she found it rather easily and stumbled inside, breathing heavily. Unsurprisingly, Richard was already there, seated on an armchair by the fireplace, a gleaming silver watch in his hand.
“You are three minutes late,” he told her coldly.
“I know, I fell asleep. I am sorry — three minutes? Only three? I was worried you’d been waiting for half an hour!” Isobel snapped, indignantly.
“Tardiness is unacceptable, no matter how much time elapsed. I am doing this of my own good will. Do not make me regret my decision.”
Isobel wanted to retort, but she reminded herself that she needed his assistance. His awful attitude towards her should not deter her from receiving the help she requires to find the culprit.
So she grit her teeth and lowered her head. “I am sorry. It will not happen again.”
He rolled his eyes and beckoned her closer. As she walked towards him, the Duke stood and spoke,
“You could not be more different from your sister. You have poor posture, bad manners, and — even your table manners need work. You have not broken anything yet or tripped and fallen, so you might have been raised inside an actual home, but these lacking qualities separate you both and might be the telltale sign that something is amiss.”
It was not… ideal, to have this man stand there and point out her flaws. But Isobel had heard all of this before, when her sisters had hired a tutor to prepare her for her debut season. It had not gone… well then, but this time, the stakes were higher.
“Firstly, stand up straight. Do not slouch. It is unladylike, and it makes you seem unsure of yourself. A woman with poise, grace, and good posture appeals to the senses of others who behold her. She gives off a confident air that makes them want to flock around her and do her bidding.” Richard instructed.
Isobel tried to follow his directions, pulling herself up to her full height and lifting her head. The Duke tutted impatiently, stepping forward.
He reached out and adjusted her shoulders so they were not hiked up but rather relaxed in a way that took away tension from her neck. Then he lowered her chin, just a little, so their eyes met when she raised her gaze without lifting her face.
“Like this,” he whispered, fingers still gripping her chin gently.
His touch caused fire to spread over her skin, and just as she feared being consumed by the sensation, he pulled back, and it was gone. He stepped back and studied her frame. It was as though she was back in the dining room again, once more the subject of his curiosity and confusion.
There was something strange about the way he looked at her, the way his gaze made her feel. It was disconcerting that she could not put a name to it, could not describe this flurry of irritating feelings that threatened to overwhelm her each time.
“Better.” He hummed. “You must remember to carry yourself lightly and gracefully. Valerie is to become a duchess soon. She acts like one already, thanks to her good manners, but you do not have her patience. Your thoughts are always visibly written across your face, so I can tell whenever you are annoyed with someone. And it is rude to mumble about someone when they are right next to you.”
Isobel recalled what had happened earlier that day and pursed her lips to keep herself from talking, deciding it was better if she listened more in this situation.
“Valerie is naturally charming and well-liked, so people often had no qualms doing whatever she wanted —”
“You seem to think very highly of her. Which must have been why you easily surmised that, because I was nothing like her, I must have grown up in a barn. Better a barn than whatever room taught you to be this much of a stuffy, arrogant individual.” Isobel scoffed, tired of hearing all the ways she was inferior to her perfect twin.
“My family gave me the best training to ensure that I would grow up responsible and capable of carrying the family name. I might be ‘stuffy’, but at least my life has meaning. You’re the one who is in need of my assistance.
Be quiet and let me help you.” Richard told her, looking annoyed at the interruption.
Isobel wanted to snap back at him, but truthfully, she was tired and simply wanted to get the night over with, so she stayed silent. The Duke nodded and continued.
“You can learn to be charming. People love talking about themselves. A single question can have them spilling their innermost thoughts. The trick is to make them feel important. Sympathize with them, without belittling them. Gently implore them in a way that makes them feel as though they will have your support through thick and thin. Be polite. Always smile and have a kind tone to your voice. You do not sing, do you?”
Isobel shook her head, and the Duke sighed.
“We shall claim you’ve caught a cold and you do not think you have recovered enough to sing properly.
You were able to fend them off tonight, but you must keep it up.
Until Valerie awakens.” Richard told her briskly, gesturing to a desk with two chairs before it.
“Come. Let me tell you about the guests.”
When she had sat at the desk, he took the other vacant seat and showed her the list he had made that contained the names of the guests and their relation to Valerie and her family. It was rather comprehensive, much to Isobel’s surprise.
He noticed her expression and said,
“I thought it might be easier to understand if all the details were stated clearly. Pay attention to the physical traits, as they will help you recognize some people much quicker. Go through it as often as possible but keep it hidden, so as not to raise suspicion.”
She nodded, feeling grateful, especially when he began to point at names and describe what the owners looked like, mentioning their significance.
Many of them were friends of the family, with a small circle of family members who had been able to join the celebration.
Isobel took every detail to heart, doing her best to keep her mind open. After a while, Richard suddenly fell silent, and then he noted,
“You really are nothing alike. You and Valerie. There is something… wild about your gaze. It is… distracting.”
Isobel couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that how you knew I was not Valerie?”
Richard paused, then he replied, “No. That isn’t it.”
She waited for him to explain further, but he stood instead.
“That will be all for tonight. We will meet again tomorrow.”
Before she could respond, he took his leave.