Chapter 12
“How do I look?” Isabel turned away from the looking glass and gave a twirl in her blue ball gown. “Will I do?”
Patience was too occupied rolling around on the nursery carpet with the pup to respond, but Prudence, who sat on the nursery bed watching Isabel prepare for the ball, sighed with pure delight. “You look so beautiful, Izzy. You should arrange your hair that way every day.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to manage it on my own, sweeting.” Isabel had to agree with Prudie that the style was very becoming. Mrs. Kellet, the cook, had sent one of the maids up to help Isabel prepare for the ball.
She turned back to the looking glass and studied her reflection. Her hair was pulled up, yet some loose curls still cascaded about her neck and shoulders in a very appealing fashion. Isabel had used a touch of Pear’s Almond Bloom to give her complexion a healthier tint and a dab of vegetable rouge to highlight her cheeks. A discreet amount of soot filled in her brows quite nicely.
Some women were effortless beauties who looked lovely even in their most natural states. Isabel wasn’t one of them. Like the majority of females, she required the proper adornments and cosmetics to look her best. She’d perfected the art of making up her face when she’d first come out and was so accomplished at the task that she’d often helped Abigail apply her cosmetics before grand events. Remembering those occasions brought a smile to her lips. She and Abigail had giggled and gossiped and had a great deal of fun during those times.
Studying her reflection, she could see the old Coco—the girl who had once conquered drawing rooms and ballrooms far from London. It had been years since she’d bothered to try and look her best. In fact, she’d spent all of that time doing precisely the opposite, deliberately donning the most unbecoming gowns and unflattering hairstyles. It was a marked contrast to the glorious period that had followed her Come-Out, when Isabel had often found herself at the center of attention, when she’d basked in her social success. But after Ben died and she’d found work as the girls’ governess, it became imperative that she not stand out. Isabel had purposely moderated everything about herself, from her appearance to her manner, in order to blend in.
She ran her hands through the cool silk folds of her gown. This evening, for the first time in years, Isabel felt beautiful again. It was almost disconcerting how much she enjoyed looking her best after such a prolonged period of time. She adjusted the gown’s deep décolletage, determined to enjoy this pleasurable sensation, however fleeting, for one evening before returning to her dour governess garb.
The sound of a carriage pulling up prompted Patience to leap up from the floor and dash over to the window. “Is it almost time for the ball to start? Is it?”
“Yes, I suspect the guests are beginning to arrive.” Isabel felt a niggle of excitement in her belly. It had been a long time since she’d attended a ball, and she’d certainly never attended anything as grand as Sunderford’s rout.
Prudie slid off the bed to join her sister at the window. They peered out at the steady stream of arrivals. “Oh, look at their gowns.” Prudie sighed. “They look so beautiful.”
Both children were in a state of rapturous excitement over the duke’s fete. Sunderford House had been a bustle of activity in the last few days as preparations for the major event intensified. All was now in readiness.
Extra staff had been hired, every floor and surface polished until they couldn’t possibly gleam any more, dozens of flowers had been delivered and artfully arranged throughout the public rooms. The food deliveries kept coming throughout the afternoon as they had for several days, keeping Mrs. Kellet and the kitchen staff busy preparing delicacies for the ball.
Prudie turned from the window. “Is it time for you to go down, Izzy?”
Isabel drew a deep breath to calm her nerves. “Yes, indeed.”
Sunny suppressed a sigh when he peered down the winding receiving line that seemed to continue into the next county. Standing in the marbled grand hall, he greeted the guests before subtly urging them on to the massive ballroom where crowds had already assembled. Dowding dutifully introduced the arrivals one by one as Sunny received them and moved them along as quickly as possible. He’d already been at it for well over an hour, yet there did not seem to be an end in sight.
“Mr. and Mrs. Harvey Drummond,” Dowding intoned as a portly, balding gentleman in maroon evening clothes came before Sunny and bowed. The man was young, but the premature hair loss aged him. He and the lady on his arm made a strange pair. She was a beautiful, auburn-haired creature with vivid blue eyes the color of sapphires.
“Welcome,” Sunny said.
“Harvey Drummond, Your Grace.” The man turned to his wife. “Allow me to make known my wife, Lady Abigail.”
“Good evening,” Sunny said for the hundredth time, anxious to keep the receiving line moving. Then he remembered that Drummond was the name on Finch’s letter of recommendation. “You’re the Earl of Winchester’s son.”
Drummond brightened. “I am indeed, Your Grace. Are you acquainted with my father?”
“I have had the pleasure.” Sunny tried to keep the irony from his tone. Winchester was a rigid old prig who—along with his closest friend, Viscount Denbury, Mrs. Drummond’s father—made no secret of his displeasure with Sunny’s licentious ways. Not that Sunny gave a damn what either of the old snobs thought of him. “It seems that you and I have something in common.”
“Is that so?” Drummond seemed a great deal more pleasant than his father.
“I understand the governess to my two wards cared for your boys before she came to us.”
That drew a blank look from Drummond. “Miss Waters?” He turned to his wife. “I thought we pensioned the old girl out.” To Sunny, he added, “Miss Waters was my wife’s governess as well. A little long in the tooth to still be in service, eh?”
Now it was Sunny’s turn to be confused. Granted, Finch wasn’t fresh out of the schoolroom, but she certainly wasn’t old enough to have ever served as Abigail Drummond’s governess. The two women appeared to be of an age. “There must be some mistake—”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Drummond quickly assured him. “Miss Finch was with us for six years. She assisted Miss Waters. Four boys can be a great deal for an older woman to manage, which is why we engaged Miss Finch.”
Drummond scratched his head. “We did?”
His wife smiled brightly. “Surely you remember, dear.” She cast an apologetic glance at Sunny. “My husband tends to be forgetful, and besides, he leaves it to me to manage the children and their affairs.”
“Ah, yes.” After a beat, Drummond nodded vigorously. “Miss Finch, of course. Yes, she was excellent. The best governess we—”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to hold up the receiving line,” Mrs. Drummond interrupted, practically shoving her husband along.
“Of course, m’dear.” Drummond allowed his pushy wife to steer him away.
Dr. Jarvis was one of the first guests Isabel caught sight of when she entered the public rooms, which were quickly filling with guests.
Nerves suddenly twisted in her stomach at the reality of attending a gathering of this magnitude after being away from society for so long. She gratefully accepted the doctor’s invitation to take a turn with him along the perimeter of the Sunderford ballroom. Having his friendly presence by her side was a comfort.
It was quite a crowd, with the best and most noble families in attendance. Sunderford’s ball appeared to be one of the Season’s grandest events, with everyone in their finery, the women sparkling in glittering parures adorning their fingers, necks, bracelets, and hair.
“I confess I’m surprised that His Grace invited us to attend his grand entertainment,” she remarked as they surveyed the couples dancing beneath the ballroom’s ornately plastered high ceiling.
“Why is that?” Dr. Jarvis asked.
“I would wager we two are the only guests in attendance who must work for our living.”
He chuckled. “In that you are likely correct.”
She’d fired off a note to the doctor accepting his invitation to go walking in the park immediately after her infuriating conversation with the duke, who made no secret of his arrogant assumption that Isabel was far too homely to attract male attention.
As much as it galled her to admit it, the duke’s comments had stung her pride. Now, as she walked with the doctor, who increasingly made plain his admiration for her, she regretted her impulsive decision to accept his invitation. She did not wish to encourage his attentions because she could not leave the children. No woman of conscience would even contemplate abandoning two orphans to the not-so-tender mercies of a dilettante like Sunderford.
She quickly discovered that Dr. Jarvis was excellent company. They chatted amiably about her life in Cornwall with the children, and Jarvis spoke enthusiastically about his work. It was clear the doctor was devoted to his patients. She could not help but compare him with Sunderford, who cared about nothing and no one beyond himself and his own comforts, which made her attraction to him even more galling. How could she be drawn to a scapegrace with so little honor or decency?
Unfortunately, she’d always been attracted to men with a bit of the devil in them. The upstanding and polite young men who followed the rules had never captured her attention. That was one of the reasons Ben had appealed to her. He’d balked at convention and readily pushed against any societal strictures he’d found ridiculous. Yet, at his core, Ben had been a man of honor, unlike the duke, who claimed not to bed his servants yet couldn’t even keep his paws off Isabel despite the fact that he clearly found her unappealing. She could only imagine how randy he behaved with the pretty maids.
“Dr. Jarvis,” she began, “you are a very agreeable man and were the situation otherwise, I would welcome your attentions. Unfortunately, the girls have been through such an enormous change that I could never even consider leaving them until they are truly settled, which I fear could take some time.”
“You needn’t concern yourself.” He reassuringly patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “The duke has already spoken with me.”
“He has?” She regarded him with surprise. “About what?”
“Regarding you, naturally. You were also going to say that you could not walk out with me, were you not?”
“Yes, but what does Sunderford have to do with that?”
“The duke warned me off. He told me to stay away from you.”
She stopped abruptly. “He did what?”
“He said he didn’t want me to distract you from your duties. He doesn’t believe it is in his wards’ best interests.”
As if Sunderford had a care about the girls’ best interests. All he was interested in was himself. “He is my employer, not my father or brother.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “He cannot dictate whom I see on my afternoon off.”
“He is the Duke of Sunderford. He has the power to remove you as governess to his wards.”
“He wouldn’t.” But nausea swirled in her belly because she knew Dr. Jarvis had the right of it. Sunderford could act on any whim that struck him, including separating her from the children.
“I do not think he would be as cruel as that,” Dr. Jarvis agreed with her. “But I have witnessed your devotion to the children and have no desire to have a hand in parting you from them…unless, of course, it was of your own choosing.”
She did not miss his implication as he raised the specter of a possible union between them. “You will follow the ducal directive then?” she asked. “Does it not anger you that he interferes in our lives when he has no business doing so?”
“I understand your anger,” he said kindly. “But the Duke of Sunderford is my benefactor and, in a way, he is also a friend. He has never before requested any kind of sacrifice of me. In truth, he has been very generous when it was perfectly within his rights to do nothing at all. The least that I can do now is oblige him on this.”
She stared at him. “Sunderford is your benefactor?”
“Yes, my family hails from the small village near Parkthorn Hall in Cheshire.”
“Parkthorn Hall is the ducal seat, is it not?”
“Indeed, we’ve known each other since we were boys. Once he came into the title, the duke paid all of the expenses for my schooling. His father before him would never have done so.”
“Oh.” Any show of generosity or consideration on the part of Sunderford came as a shock to her. “I would not have thought it.”
“Adam”—he quickly corrected himself—“erm…His Grace, is not a dishonorable man.”
“He certainly behaves like one,” she said tartly.
“His upbringing was not an easy one.”
“How do you mean?”
“It is not my place to speak about His Grace,” he said amiably but firmly. “Would you care to dance?”