Chapter 5
Chapter Five
The sound of wheels and hooves against the cobbled street of London made up for the silence that currently engulfed Isabella as she sat in the carriage alone, filled with barely contained excitement at the thought of seeing her twin sister.
Now in the carriage on her way to see her sister in her favorite blue day dress, Isabella couldn’t help but notice how beautiful the weather outside was.
It was neither snowing nor raining, and the sky was clear.
Perhaps it was because throughout the past week she had locked herself up in her room and in her family’s library to focus on her presentation that she hardly had the time to appreciate the scenery outside.
The chill in the air was heavy, but the clear sky almost made up for the cold as she pulled her white shawl tighter around her shoulders.
A few moments later, the carriage halted outside Beatrice’s London residence, and as though she’d heard the sound of the carriage, Beatrice ran out to greet her sister, engulfing Isabella in a tight hug.
“Oh, Isabella, it seems as though it’s been ages since I last saw you,” Beatrice cried into the embrace. “I have missed you greatly. Promise me that you will not stay away for such a long time ever again.” She pulled back, examining Isabella’s face as if seeing it for the first time.
Isabella smiled, taking a deep breath of the familiar scent that made up Beatrice. She always smelled like home. Hints of lavender, peppermint, and flowers lingered on her clothes.
“I’ve missed you greatly as well, Bea,” Isabella replied, lightly rubbing her sister’s back. It was like this whenever they were separated for a while. Being part of a set of twins always made it feel like something was missing whenever the other was not around.
“We have so much to speak about today. Come, let us go in,” Beatrice suggested, taking Isabella’s arm and hand as she let them inside the residence.
Moments later, in Beatrice’s drawing room, the fresh aroma of chamomile tea filled the entire space.
The room itself was neatly decorated with French cases, pink trimmings, and several new ornaments that Isabella had not seen upon her last visit.
It almost made her sad to think that her sister’s life continued in her absence.
She was by no means jealous of her sister, but she could not help but covet the life that Beatrice had been granted.
She has someone who is always there for her.
A pang of jealousy proved her former thoughts wrong.
“I doubt you are aware of it, but you are quite famous in London and its environs,” Beatrice began, interrupting her thoughts as she slid a plate full of pastries over to Isabella.
The beautifully decorated cakes with pink icing and nuts made up most of the delicacies, while simply cut cucumber sandwiches without the crust took up the rest of the space.
“I’m hardly famous.” Isabella shook her head while eyeing the pastries, but Beatrice insisted.
“So, you say, but news about Lady Kendrick’s club and your participation as its founding member has gone far and wide. It has caught the ton by surprise, and it’s all they can talk about. You must tell me everything.” Her eyes glinted conspiratorially.
It was true that the news about the club had hit the cold streets of London, but Isabella had decided to pay no attention because she’d seen, on a notice paper, the author refer to the club as another gossip pit, even having the nerve to ask how many more of these clubs would the ladies of the ton make until society deemed it harmful?
And in all, it had barely been a full day since the presentation at Everthorne House.
People can be so cruel in their assumptions.
She pushed her anger aside, trying to focus on her sister instead.
“While it is true that I’m a founding member of the club, I am of the opinion that the gossip is simply out for lack of better things to talk about, especially considering we have yet to publicize the skills that would be taught in the club, which are far more scandalous than the ton would dare to imagine.
” She tilted her head toward her sister while pursing her lips and offering a knowing glance.
Beatrice giggled, and Isabella followed suit.
“I was away from you for all of two weeks, and you have turned into a different person, Bella,” Beatrice gaped, a teasing tone accompanying her words.
“I’m the same woman I was when you last saw me.” Isabella leaned forward and grabbed her saucer, guiding the teacup to her lips for a sip, after which she set it down again. “I have only found something that excites me,” she finished.
“I’m so pleased to hear that. So, tell me about the club. Knowing you, you must’ve suggested enforcing deadly pranks on suitors who have refused to take no for an answer,” Beatrice giggled, and Isabella shook her head.
“I wish I had thought of that—then perhaps the insults and subtle sarcasm I endured from other ladies would have been worth it.” She suppressed a sigh. Why was it so difficult for the other ladies to accept her as one of their own?
Beatrice gasped.
“What happened…?” she’d begun saying as she gripped the armrest of her chair and leaned forward, but the sound of tiny and quick footsteps interrupted them.
Following behind little Edward was his nurse, who appeared as though it was her goal to ensure the little boy safely reached his mother without any accidents, with her arms stretched out and her back bent forward.
The chubby woman’s cheeks burned with exertion despite looking as if she were only in her mid-twenties. Her light brown hair had been pinned back under a maid’s cap, revealing a high forehead and smooth skin.
Beatrice brightened, instantly at her little creation, rising to her feet as she swooped him in her arms.
The boy giggled. He was a perfect mixture of both his parents, with Beatrice’s brown hair and Leo’s deep blue eyes.
“How did this clever sir find me all the way here?” she asked, nuzzling his cheeks while holding him on her hip.
Beatrice looked so natural with a child in her arms. It made Isabella’s heart burst with joy for her sister and all the blessings that had been bestowed upon her.
The nagging feeling that she wanted more in life came and nudged at her chest again.
Do I truly want this?
She watched as Beatrice cooed at her son before turning back to the nurse.
“He must’ve followed your voice, Your Grace,” the nurse replied, an equally proud expression in her eyes as her gaze fell on the mother and son.
“Is that right?” Beatrice asked the boy, fully knowing she would get no response back.
“You should also greet to your aunt, darling,” she cooed again, approaching Isabella until she handed over the child to her.
“Hello, Eddy. You seem more grown than the last time I saw you two weeks ago,” Isabella teased her nephew, pinching his round little cheek.
“Funny, considering I said the same thing about you,” Beatrice shook her head, then ordered the nurse to take the child away.
“As we were saying,” she cleared her throat after the nurse had left with little Eddy, “tell me about this club.” She made herself comfortable on the settee opposite Isabella and reached for her tea.
Isabella went on to narrate all that had transpired concerning the club and its founding to her sister, who sucked in a deep breath when Isabella finished speaking.
“I’m curious about the method that Lady Kendrick used to filter us ladies in the first place. Especially after what transpired at the fencing competition with Lady Rebecca,” Isabella complained as she bit into a biscuit with pink frosting.
Beatrice seemed thoughtful for a moment before answering. “The ladies probably qualified by being suited to become the next Duchess of Everthorne, since that duchy has not seen a duchess in a couple of decades. Though speaking of which, did you ever come across the duke during your visits?”
Isabella nodded immediately, remembering she’d not had the liberty of telling her twin about her encounter in his workspace. She had been dying to tell someone about the encounter, but had not known who to trust.
“The first time we met was two weeks ago at the fencing competition. He’s a curmudgeon, if you ask me,” she said decidedly, recalling the harsh bite of his voice that did more than just reprimand her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you met him back then?” Beatrice asked incredulously.
“Well, because, like I said, he’s a curmudgeon. There is not much to tell other than the fact that he was not welcoming, nor was he impressed by my presence,” she continued, unperturbed by her sister’s shocked expression.
Not because he was shirtless, and we were in a room alone.
Her pulse quickened when the memory of his muscles floated across her mind. She had wanted to ask him about the scars, but she had not been deterred by them at all. They had somehow added to the allure and attraction she physically felt toward him.
“Isn’t that too early to say, considering you’ve only met him once?” Beatrice asked, always trying to be the reasonable one.
“Twice,” Isabella corrected calmly. “Twice. The second time was just yesterday, and it was long enough for me to form a clear opinion. He hardly ever smiles, carries himself with a haughty arrogance, and, believe it or not, he rejected the very notion of our club before even hearing the details. He went so far as to imply I was dishonest, and now, no doubt, he suspects I have some hidden motive for wanting to participate. Like you, I am certain that he thinks I will, and the other ladies will want to be the next duchess.”
As I am sure the others will want to be.
She groaned inwardly at the thought of one of the other ladies marrying him.
They would all be insufferable duchesses if that were the case.
Something about the thought made the pit of her stomach churn with disgust. She chalked it up to the fact that she would hate to see one of those snooty young women get the better of the duke. Even if he was disagreeable.
Beatrice leaned back, frowning thoughtfully. “Well, he certainly sounds… disagreeable.” She agreed, even though she still seemed reluctant.
Isabella allowed herself a small, wry smile. “Disagreeable, yes. But he is also remarkably perceptive. One can hardly hide anything from him, not even the truth of one’s intentions.” She reassured herself.
There was no possible way that the duke would be fooled by one of the fortune-seeking young women of the ton. He was much sharper than that.
A positive opinion?
Beatrice swallowed hard. She was certainly attracted to the man, but it was dangerous territory to start thinking of him in ways other than a curmudgeon.
Beatrice raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I suppose that makes him all the more dangerous, then.”
“Precisely,” Isabella replied, taking another delicate bite of her biscuit. “Which is why I must tread carefully yet still see this club through. It promises freedom, learning, and perhaps some degree of satisfaction in proving that the Duke of Everthorne underestimates me.”
Beatrice laughed softly. “Knowing you, Isabella, I have no doubt you will.”
With that, a comfortable silence settled between them. Isabella sipped her tea, her thoughts already returning to Lady Kendrick, the club, and the unavoidable presence of the duke in her plans.
She felt a spark of determination flare anew, ready to face whatever the duke might throw her way. However, the memory of his dark gaze and rigid presence lingered stubbornly.
There had been something yet dangerous in the way he had walked toward her. Every step had been made with frightening precision. Even the lazy way he had leaned against the doorframe had ignited something almost carnal within her.
No!
She admonished herself for allowing her mind to wander that far.
She squared her shoulders, reminding herself that the club was far more important than any stirring the Duke of Everthorne provoked.