Wolf looked at her and at the courtiers. A scandalized look appeared on his face. He ran to her, his face red.
“Ronan! What are you doing here?”
“I’m calling on you.”
“But—you can’t—this is not done. You should have waited for me to call on you first.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I know—I—Ronan—you should go.”
“You’re telling me to leave?”
“Yes.”
She picked up her parasol, furious with her and with him. He was actually ashamed of her! “Fine. Good-bye, Wolf,” she said. She would be damned if she saw him again.
Now that she had decided to spend her future alone, there was nothing Isabelle wanted more than to leave London immediately and start her new life, far away from everything. Her cousin Hugh, however, insisted she attend the opening party at the palace gardens. She could not refuse lest she arouse suspicion, for he would never let her go if he knew what she was planning. Typically the garden party was an afternoon affair, but since it was a special season—the Wedding Season, as everyone was calling it now—the palace decided to throw the party at night, complete with billowing striped tents, a full orchestra, and dancing. The gardens were transformed into a wonderland worthy of Titania and Oberon’s court. A true midsummer night’s dream—a carnival and a party, all in one.
“Isabelle, may I introduce you to Lord Stanley,” Hugh said, gesturing to a handsome young man puffing on a cigar. He had a swoop of dark hair rolled off his forehead in a pompadour style, and his jacket sleeves were pushed up to his elbow. He looked her over slyly. “So this is the famous Isabelle of Orleans,” he said.
She waved the smoke away from her face and forced a smile. “Pleasure…”
“…is all mine,” William Stanley said, smiling at her with a leer and forgetting to kiss her hand.
Isabelle nodded politely and walked away. If Hugh thought he could fob her off on just anyone, he was mistaken. She would rather live alone than marry any of these arrogant fools. With relief she spotted the familiar dark head of her cousin Louis, and her heart leapt—only to fall again when she saw that he was with the girl from the other morning. She was wrapped around his arm like a koala—the royal couple had received one from the Australian territories as a wedding present.
Louis extricated himself from her grip and came up to Isabelle, kissing her on both cheeks with affection. “You look tired,” he said, concerned.
“Thanks, that’s just what a girl wants to hear,” she said dryly. When she saw the hurt look on his face, she apologized. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel like myself lately.”
“It’s all right, Izzy,” he said with a sigh. “I’m used to your moods.”
“I suppose you’ve had fun this season. You seem to have become quite a favorite of Celestine’s. Be careful—her father might have your head if he finds out you have been taking liberties with his youngest daughter.”
“There is nothing to fear from the duke. I aim to propose to Celestine tonight,” Louis said as they made their way through the garden maze toward the main tent, where jugglers, acrobats, and fire eaters were performing for the entertainment of the assembled guests.
Isabelle had been distracted by a mime that came too close, so when his words sank in she was not prepared to hear them. “What do you mean, propose?”
“It’s only right,” Louis said, clenching his jaw.
“But you are only—”
“I turn eighteen next month, and will come into my inheritance. Hugh is ready to settle the estate for me. I will leave before the summer ends.”
She turned to her cousin with a new light in her eyes. Of course. Louis had an inheritance through his father, as well. He was the Count Beziers of Languedoc. There was a small castle in Cévennes that came with a yearly income and some land. It was nowhere near as large an estate as Orleans, but it would be enough.
He held her hand. “I hope you can be happy for me, Isabelle. I hope you will come visit me and Celestine sometime.”
“Oh Louis,” she sighed. “I am happy for you.” Sweet Louis, who had always been such a good person, a good friend, and a good man. Where did she go so wrong? How was it that Celestine Montrose could capture his heart, his hand, and all the riches of his inheritance in one fell swoop? How did it happen so quickly? What was she doing while Louis was growing up and falling in love?
She had been alone with Hugh for too long—had grasped on to Leopold as an escape, only to find that the raft was sinking. It was a pity one never loved the person who loved you until it was too late. And it was too late; she could see that. Louis was only standing by her to be polite, but his eyes were already scanning the crowd, looking for his love.
“I want to do the right thing—we got a bit carried away before, and I want to make sure that she is taken care of. I want to take care of her,” he said. It was as if he was talking to himself more than her. His Adam’s apple bobbed painfully.
“Of course you do.” She nodded. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Get down on one knee. Isn’t that what the season is for?”
Ronan did not think she had merited an invitation to the garden party, but Perry insisted that he had called on Lady Marlborough, who held the lists, and she assured him Ronan’s name was on it. “Perhaps you made an impression at the royal ball,” he told her. “Don’t look so shocked. This is what the parties are for, you know, to see beautiful young people out and about. You are very decorative, and just between you and me, the court is looking a wee bit dismal these days. They need fresh blood.”