Isabella fidgeted with the folds of her dark blue silk dress. She was riding in the carriage along with the Gilcrest family to the Wintercrest ball. It had been the talk of the whole season and, with what Isabella knew of the preparations, it was set to be talked of for many months after.
The dress she wore; the duke had insisted she have made for this night. It was a silken navy blue with an iridescent sheen to the fabric. The hem was trimmed in the finest white lace that Isabella had ever seen and was finished with a thick white ribbon at her waist and in her dark hair.
“You look wonderful, Izzy,” Lady Louisa said, sensing her friend's concern. “You will enter the ball this night a princess.”
“Mm, I don’t know if you would quite do for a princess,” Lord Dunthorpe teased from across the carriage, “but I suppose you will do for a future duchess.”
Isabella wrinkled her nose playfully at the Viscount as their carriage came to a stop. She took another steadying breath before allowing the Viscount to help her out.
The Earl and Lady Gilcrest arrived in their own carriage just ahead of them and together with the two siblings, they filed in to be introduced into the lavish townhouse.
Isabella couldn’t help but notice that behind them came the Earl and Lady Cunningham with Lady Lydia. Her stomach did a flop inside her. She worried that they might make a scene. Instead, Lady Cunningham called out to her as they all filed into the front gate of the exquisite home.
“Oh, Miss Watts, I am so happy to see you here tonight,” Lady Cunningham said graciously. “I was so concerned about your well-being when I heard the awful news. I hope I did not harm you by writing to Lady Wintercrest about it.”
“It was startling, at first,” Isabella said kindly, “to hear such horrible things spoken of me. But it also gave me the chance to correct them, so I think, in the end, you did some good.”
“Oh, I am glad to hear it,” Lady Cunningham said with a sigh. “I have been ever so worried that you might hate me over it.”
Isabella could tell that the woman had meant no harm in her doing. It had caused some of the most considerable heartaches that Isabella had ever experienced. Maybe, at the time, she could not say so, but now she knew she could truthfully say she forgave Lady Cunningham all that had transpired.
Lady Lydia, who was standing just behind her mother, looked thoroughly disgusted by Isabella. Although the official announcement of their engagement wouldn’t be until tonight, Isabella suspected that, with the close friendship of the two mothers, Lady Lydia already knew of their arrangement.
“That dress is divinely beautiful on you tonight,” Lady Cunningham complimented Isabella, now feeling sure there was no animosity harbored.
Isabella thanked the lady graciously and went to join her own party as they made their way into the home.
The London home that the duke had inherited was not of the normal variety in London. It was vastly more extravagant and even boasted its very own grand hall for dancing.
Isabella filed in behind the Gilcrests as they were all introduced down the line of the hosting family. Isabella’s eyes fell immediately on her betrothed.
He was looking even more dashingly handsome than usual. He wore a similar navy blue velvet jacket with black pantaloons and high boots. His knot was tied in a crisp Windsor and his hair shined a radiant red against his matching navy ribbon that held it back.
As Isabella stood before him and curtsied, he lifted her white-gloved hand to his lips. He watched her with his crystal eyes as he bent over her hand, wicked smile ever-present on his lips.
“And how are you this evening, my love?” he asked just loud enough for the Cunninghams, standing just behind, to hear.
Isabella suspected that the shocked look on Lady Lydia’s face was the whole reason for his extravagantly romantic salutation. His eyes fell to the locket that was replaced as a permanent fixture around Isabella's neck. Next to the pendant was still the beautiful emerald ring that the duke gave her.
“Are you ready for tonight,” he asked. Though he lowered her hand, he still held tightly to it.
“I hope so,” Isabella said nervously. “Do I look alright?”
“You look as perfect as you did the day I met you. But if you are nervous, it is not too late to make our way for an elopement.”
“Nice try, Your Grace, but you cannot get out of a ball that easily.”
“Too right,” his mother said beside him. “You have a great many more guests to welcome. Stop embarrassing your poor bride and hand her over to me so that I may welcome my future daughter-in-law.”
The duke gave a final wink at Isabella, lighting her cheeks with a rosy blush, much to his delight, before finally releasing her to his mother.
The evening continued with great success. All of Lady Wintercrest’s hard work over the months was apparent in the lavish decorations and delicious meal provided. When the time came for dancing, the duke first stood upon the little stage before the crowd to make his announcement.
Isabella feared still that, with all that surrounded her these past few months, the reaction to their engagement would be disgust or at the very least quiet whispering. She was pleasantly surprised that, instead, the entirety of the house burst into uproarious cheers.
She spent the remainder of the evening at the duke’s side as person after person came before them to congratulate them.
“I think it might be time to get some fresh air,” the duke said, after a very long congratulation from the Earl and Lady Cunningham.
“Would you join me outside?” he asked of his future bride.
“I suspect you have a very wicked intent in mind,” Isabella said, while wrapping her arm in the crook of his.
“I am very sure I do, as well,” he said with a soft chuckle.
They made their way through the rooms full of guests and around the group of dancers in the great hall to the large doors that opened up to gardens behind the house. Unlike the property of most London houses, this one boasted a large lot with a long veranda that stretched the entire length of the ballroom.
The duke walked with her on his arm all the way to the far end of the veranda, in the seclusion of very little light from the windows.
“You always seem to find ways to get me outside, alone, and in the dark,” Isabella said in her own teasing fashion.
“Well,” the duke said, wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her close to him, “how else am I to steal a kiss but in these circumstances?”
“I suppose you are right,” Isabella said, looking up at his face glowing in the dim light from inside. “Though, I cannot say it is stealing when I seem to give them so freely to you. Perhaps I should try harder to resist your charm.”
He paused for a moment and seemed to think her offer over. “Oh no,” he finally said, dipping his head down toward her, “I don’t think I like that idea at all.”
He stifled her giggles with a soft kiss.