Chapter 3
Three
Isobel threw her hands up in the air. “I’m done with men. I’m done with the ton and its whispers. I’ll join a monastery. Nun life has been calling to me.”
Joan laughed and leaned against the white marble stone of the terrace. “You’re only five-and-twenty. Surely that is too soon to be done with the Season and men.”
“This is the first ball of the Season and I’m ready to end it all.” Isobel sighed, leaning back against the brick wall of the terrace, the night air cool as it flowed around them.
The sound of laughter and happy voices came from inside, no doubt the latest gossip making its way around the ballroom. The more time Isobel spent in that room with people casting long looks her way, the more she wished she was secluded away from Society.
“Isobel, you must be reasonable about this. There has to be something you would miss if you became a nun.”
“What would I miss, exactly? Father demeaning me at every turn? His need to wage an emotional warfare with me for the wedding being called off even though it was doomed from the start?” Isobel shrugged, the stone icy against her back through the linen of her dress.
“Father only wants the best for us.” Joan turned to look at her, softly smiling, ready to defend Father the way she always did.
Isobel could hardly blame her for that either—even if it was annoying. She had always done everything she could to shield Joan from the worst Father had to offer. Joan’s Father and Isobel’s Father were two very different people.
Joan stepped closer to her, taking her by the hands and holding them tight. “There are things you would miss. I’m certain of it.”
Isobel froze at Joan’s words. Miss something? The thought flared in her mind unbidden, and—why was it the Duke of Foxdrey’s voice that immediately came to her ears? That rakish, teasing drawl: “If you ever wish for someone to ruin you properly, you may find me at Foxdrey.”
Her cheeks warmed, a heat she couldn’t quite stifle, and her pulse skipped in a way that had nothing to do with fear or frustration. She pressed her palms to her thighs, trying to quell the stirring deep in her stomach, but it only pulsed stronger with the memory of him.
“No.” Isobel pulled away from Joan. “You are the only person I would miss, and we could write to each other.”
“It wouldn’t be the same.” Joan followed her to the other side of the terrace. “Please, Isobel, let’s go back and join the others. You can dance with handsome men and have some good food, and you might even find someone to fall in love with this Season.”
“I don’t wish to fall in love with anyone.” Isobel crossed her arms on the railing, leaning over and looking down at the gardens lit with glowing lanterns below.
“You surely must want to. I know you say that you would be happy to spend your life unmarried, but could you really mean that?”
“I do.” Isobel forced out the little shred of doubt about being alone in the back of her mind. “I’m not going in there and I’m not going to be made a fool of.”
“Father nearly had to beg for this invitation,” Joan said, a sternness entering her voice as she put her hands on her hips.
“After everything, he’s still trying to help you find a husband, and I think you need to go back in there, hold your head high, and show those horrible people that they can’t hurt you with their words. ”
“Oh, but they very much can.” Isobel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to be annoyed with Joan. “I just need a moment to breathe, all right? One moment and then I’ll return to those shark-infested waters.”
“That’s the spirit.” Joan leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I know it’s hard, but I’m proud of you for coming here tonight, and I know it’s not easy, but this is for the best.”
Isobel forced another smile, taking Joan by the shoulders and turning her to the door. “Go, enjoy yourself. I’m going to take a moment, and then I will go back in there.”
Joan stared at her for a moment, like she was deciding whether to believe Isobel, before turning and heading back into the party.
The second she was gone from sight, Isobel turned her attention back to the gardens, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself.
This was the last chance Isobel had to save her family.
They only had a limited time left to them before Father’s creditor took everything away.
According to Father, a deplorable man had appeared on the family’s doorstep just three days ago while Isobel and Joan were out.
Father had pleaded for more time. He swore that if he was granted a few more days, he might work miracles.
And so, intrigued by this statement, the creditor had shown some leniency.
The way Father told it, they had no time to lose.
He knew the creditor would not wait forever and he feared seeing the man darken his doorstep another time.
So, Isobel came up with this flimsy plan.
The family would attend one final ball—this one—where Isobel would help Joan secure a match, and then she would run away and join a convent.
A few more hours, and by nightfall, Father will give everything we own to a stranger.
“Darling?”
She turned, staring at the man in the doorway. The Duke of Foxdrey stood tall with that teasing smirk he wore so well turning up the corners of his mouth. She supposed some women might find it charming.
Isobel would be in her grave long before she ever found the man who called her a feral creature charming.
“You,” she hissed.
He chuckled, stepping out onto the terrace. “You don’t sound amicable this evening. Surely you aren’t still upset over our last meeting a fortnight ago. Right, darling?”
“I know who you are now.” She should head past him and go back inside where people could see her. Where she wasn’t likely to incite another scandal. “You own an entertainment business. I can’t be seen with you. It would ruin the little reputation I have left.”
The Duke of Foxdrey chuckled. “You can’t be seen with me? I should hardly be seen with you!”
“Me?” Isobel scoffed. “Out of the two of us, I’m the one with the better reputation.”
His mouth curved. “And what about you, darling? A proper young lady does not abandon the dance floor to hide in corners. When I find one alone, I assume she is either avoiding suitors—or inviting trouble.”
“I see you still haven’t learned manners, though what else would I expect from a man who endeavors to exploit people and their weaknesses.” Isobel knew she shouldn’t let him get under her skin, but he was good at it.
She stood tall, holding her head high, prepared to march right past him and back into the ball. She was going to show the Duke of Foxdrey that his words—and the words of those in the ton—couldn’t bother her. That she was better than them and their whispers.
It would be her last act before running to the monastery and not looking back on the life she left behind.
The Duke leaned back against the wall, his shoulders filling out his black tailcoat in a way that she was sure put other men to shame. “I thought you were ruined, so should it not be I who is giving the lecture on manners?”
“You? Give a lecture to me?” She scoffed, taking a step back, wanting a bit more distance between the two of them. “My reputation may have taken a hit, but it’s far from ruined.”
Not until after tonight when we lose everything.
She knew she should go back inside, needed to stop the verbal sparring with the man in front of her. Though she told her feet to move forward, they wouldn’t go. It was as simple as placing one foot in front of the other, but she couldn’t do it. Not even a single step.
I can do this. March past him. Leave him here.
Except she couldn’t.
The Duke smirked, eyeing her like he could read the thoughts running through her head. “Is your intention here tonight to find a second fiancé? Perhaps one who is willing to overlook your sordid past at the altar?”
“A rake? Speaking about my sordid past?” Isobel rolled her eyes. “It couldn’t be.”
“You didn’t answer my question, darling.”
“No, I’m not here for a husband. There is no help for me, but I could find my sister a good match.”
The Duke nodded, pushing off the wall, moving closer to her, the night getting warmer the less distance there was between them. “And what are your plans?”
“The ton isn’t for me. I don’t wish to marry a man who will only drag me back here Season after Season and force me to spend time with the other wives who seem to have nothing better to do with their time than gossip.”
He smothered a smile. “Where will you go then?”
“A monastery.” Isobel turned her chin up, daring him to say something.
It was a dangerous game to play with him, but she found that she liked speaking with him more than she should.
“That wasn’t what I pictured when I told you to go out and claim your freedom, but I suppose that is one way of doing it.”
Isobel snorted, even though she knew it wasn’t ladylike. “I could hardly care what you thought I was going to do.”
“I’ve always thought about tempting a nun.” He smirked, getting closer to her.
“Well, you can keep that dream to yourself because it’s not going to become a reality.”
The corner of his mouth climbed higher, and she had to admit there was a bit of a boyish charm to him.
The railing dug into her back, and though she knew she should move to the side and dodge his advance, there was something in the way he looked at her that kept her rooted in place.
His hands landed on the railing, arms bracketing her in. Her breath hitched, her gaze dropping to his mouth. The Duke’s gaze found hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as she let out a soft breath, his lips ghosting over hers in a kiss. Once, twice.
And then he fully leaned in, his body pressing against hers. His fingers drifted over her cheek as his lips moved against hers in a kiss that sent fire searing through her body.
She froze for a moment before she leaned into him, her cheeks burning at the small sigh that escaped her.
His smile was against her lips, his hands drifting to her hips, taking fistfuls of her skirt and holding her in place.
Not that she planned on going anywhere. She could happily stay there with him.
She could chase the freedom he was offering her.
Just as soon as it started, it was over.
The Duke of Foxdrey pulled back mercilessly quickly with a smirk covering his face.
His gaze searched hers before his hands were back on the railing.
She missed his touch immediately, coming down from the high of doing what she wanted for the first time in her life.
She should slap him. She knew she should. It would be as simple as raising her hand and bringing it hard to the side of his cheek. His head would snap to the side; she would leave the ball.
And what little remains of my life will fall apart.
“Rake,” she said instead, her voice wavering. She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back a step.
He arched an eyebrow, the fingers on her cheek falling to grip the railing beside her again. “At least now you know what you’re going to be missing.”
Suddenly, there were voices.
“Do you think it’s wise to be out here?” a woman asked, a man’s low tone following her words though Isobel couldn’t make out the words.
Isobel’s heart froze in her chest, and she glanced at the door, trying to keep herself calm.
If they were caught now, she would be ruined—in an irrevocable way. There was a chance whatever couple was sneaking around in the hallway might step outside and see them there.
“What if there’s someone else out on the terrace? We wouldn’t want our night ruined.” The woman giggled at something the man said, still too low for Isobel to hear. The woman’s voice was louder though.
Isobel glanced at the Duke, her blood pounding in her ears. “We have to hide.”
“Relax,” the Duke of Foxdrey said, moving closer to the door. “You stay here; I’m leaving.”
“You are?” she asked, feeling a small shred of inexplicable disappointment forming deep in her chest.
“I have debts to collect tonight. Men are bold with coin they do not possess—and humbled quickly enough when they need more time.” The Duke studied her for a moment before disappearing through the door and back into the party.
It can’t be.
And as Isobel was left standing on the terrace, the reality of what she had done hit her with the force of a summer storm raging through the country.
She let out a shuddering breath, putting her hands on her hips and trying to draw in deep breaths.
The Duke of Foxdrey wasn’t just the man who toyed with her emotions or who had the power to ruin her reputation.
No, he was more than that.
He was her father’s creditor. The man who had the power to take everything away from her family.
And she had just kissed him.