Chapter 3 #2
Isobel was going to tell her aunt that the Duke of Norwich must have had a life before her sister, and that life was likely going to keep them fed.
As such, he was not wrong to dismiss his source of income, for the sake of attending a long – and frankly boring, Isobel very quietly interjected – party.
That would be ridiculous – not to mention irresponsible.
Her lips parted to defend her sister’s groom, but the feeling of that stare on her had grown increasingly bothersome, and she could no longer stand it.
“Aunt Deborah, I beg your pardon, but I do not feel well again –”
“Oh no,” her aunt gasped, reaching for Isobel as she rose to her feet. “Shall I send for a physician? Or should I get your father –”
“No, that is quite unnecessary. I only feel a tad exhausted. Perhaps it is because I have not gotten much sleep in the last few days. I will take the rest of the morning off – the whole day, even, if I need to – to rest.” Isobel stated quickly, not wanting a fuss to be made out of this.
Deborah hummed thoughtfully. “That is a good idea. A bit of rest might be exactly what you need. Do let us know if you start to feel worse. Do not suffer in silence.”
Her kindness was so touching that Isobel could not help but wonder what their relationship would have been like if Isobel had gotten to know her. Would she have fussed over her, too, in a motherly manner? Would she have adored her like she so obviously adored Valerie?
“I will, Aunt Deborah. Thank you,” Isobel forced herself to smile as she tried to leave the table.
“Oh, wait! You barely touched your food!” Deborah called after her.
“I will get something else much later,” Isobel stated back, curtseying slightly as she walked out of the room, as some people shifted their attention to her. “My apologies, but I must leave early.”
Her cheeks were still burning as she rushed to her room, and it wasn’t until she was behind the closed door that she heaved a sigh of relief.
However, just as she had begun to relax, a worrying thought settled in her mind.
Who was that man? What if he was the one who had poisoned Valerie? And he was angry his ploy had failed and was now plotting to finish the job?
She had not expected to find a suspect so early, but it was hard to ignore how suspicious that man had been. The way he had looked at her… the intensity of his gaze set her skin ablaze, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
“I need to stay away from him – at least until I have spoken to my father– Lord Gramfield. If he is the one who poisoned Valerie, I must be careful not to let him know that I find him suspicious –”
A sharp knock at her door cut off her muttered ramblings, and she whirled around.
“Who is it?” she called out, a tad irritated because she had hoped her swift exit would hint at the fact that she did not want to be disturbed.
No vocal response was received; only another knock was heard. Exasperated, she went to open it, intending to dismiss whoever was on the other side by feigning an illness.
But when the door fell open, she found herself face to face with the man who had been glaring at her all morning.
“You –”
“Who on earth are you?” he asked, that sharp gaze of his narrowed and bearing down on her.
Isobel swallowed, willing herself not to be nervous, although his words left her stunned.
“I do not know what you mean, sir. You are in my home, here to celebrate my upcoming wedding, I assume, and as such, I believe my identity should not be lost on you,” she replied innocently, hoping she had managed to ward off his suspicion. “Now, if you do not mind, I need to –”
To her shock and horror, he pushed past her and walked into her room, pointing at her as she whirled around to face him.
“I do not know what you think you’re doing or what purpose you have in this house, but you will tell me right this instant who you are,” he demanded.
Isobel felt her body stiffen as she tried to think of a plan on what to do or say, but she couldn’t help but stare; his presence was much more imposing than that of many others she had crossed paths with.
There was something about the way he looked at her that weakened Isobel’s mind and resolve, something about his handsome face that whispered impending doom into her mind.
Her sister, Margaret, had once warned her about situations such as these.
“Do not ever be alone with a man. They cannot be trusted to control themselves, and many feel as though they are entitled to the spoils of the world. Do not give them a chance to mistake your free spirit for naivety,” she told Isobel.
And now, she was in such a situation, with a man who seemed to have picked up on the farce she was and seemed determined to get to the bottom of the secret that she had been told to keep.
“I am the bride –”
“Stop lying!” he snapped, stepping towards her all of a sudden.
Isobel startled into stepping back, her heart thundering in her chest when she hit a solid wall after only two steps.
“You are not Valerie. Tell me who you are right now, or I will march back down and announce to everyone that you are not who you claim to be.”
Isobel shook her head desperately, scared that he might keep his word. The closeness between them allowed her to see his eyes, to note the seriousness in them, and to observe the way his jaw twitched as he spoke up again,
“I will give you five seconds. If your response is not satisfactory, I am going to drag you down to where the others are, and you will confess.”
Isobel tried to beg, but she couldn’t find her voice all of a sudden, and she stared at him, eyes wide, as he began to count down.
“Five… four… three… two –”
“Her twin!” Isobel cried, breathing heavily. “I am her twin!”