She gave him a little smile. “I confess, I would like to return to the ball, my love. For two reasons, not the least of which is that I should like to dance with my husband.”
“Now that is a very good idea.” His eyes darkened. “I should like very much for everyone to see me dance with my wife.”
With one final, clandestine kiss, they made their way back through the corridors and out onto the terrace, where scores of eyes immediately found them.
Isabel squeezed Nick’s hand. “They’re all watching.”
He lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles through the silk of her glove before leaning over to whisper, “They are all attempting to calculate the length of time we were indoors.”
She turned confused eyes on him. “Whatever for?”
He raised his eyebrows.
She gasped, covering her laughter with one hand. “No!”
He laughed, and she caught her breath at how handsome he was. He was hers. Just as she was his.
They descended the stairs to the back garden, hands entwined when someone called out to them. “St. John!”
Nick stopped, pulling Isabel close as a man approached. He was tall and lean and very handsome, his coat perfectly cut and his boots perfectly shined. He carried a silver-tipped walking stick and moved with a casual affect almost certainly designed to keep those around him from considering him more than a well-heeled dandy.
He stopped in front of them and Nick squeezed Isabel’s hand. “Densmore.”
Isabel’s eyes widened. This was Densmore? This handsome, exceptionally well-tailored man with a silly smile was the Densmore about whom they had been so worried?
Densmore gave a short bow, turning to Isabel. “I say, Lady Isabel—”
It hadn’t taken long for her identity to ripple through the crowd. Her sisters-in-law had worked quickly.
“Nicholas.” Isabel corrected him.
“I beg your pardon? ”
“If you are addressing me, my lord, I believe the moniker you seek is Lady Nicholas.” She could feel Nick’s approval washing over her.
Densmore looked from husband to wife, a wide smile on his face. “I was sure they were bamming me. But you are married.”
Ah, yes. Her father’s friend, indeed.
Isabel smiled her most brilliant smile. “I assure you that I am not bamming you.”
Nick shook his head in mock seriousness. “My wife does not bam, Densmore.”
“Well, at least, not strangers,” she added, noticing her husband’s dimple flash.
How she adored that dimple. She must tell him so.
Densmore rocked back on his heels. “Well,” he said. Then: “Well! This works out splendidly!”
Nick squeezed Isabel’s hand again. “I certainly think so.”
“No, St. John. I mean—you can handle the Wastrearl’s things now! I never wanted the ruddy responsibility anyway.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Can’t stand the stuff.”
“We could not tell,” Isabel deadpanned, drawing a grin from her husband.
Densmore shook his head, not entirely listening. “Capital!” He clapped Nick on the shoulder. “Say I send my man around tomorrow to discuss the particulars? How does that sound? Rather fantastic, I’d say!” He paused. “Bad luck about your father, Lady Nicholas. Er. My condolences.”
And without waiting for a response, Densmore was gone, leaving Nick and Isabel to watch in surprise as he disappeared into the crowd.
She turned to Nick, amazed at the way the mysterious guardian, whom she had so feared, had simply wandered off. "It seems I have inherited the challenges of Townsend Park.”
Isabel grinned at his mock disappointment. “How will you ever survive?”
“It is difficult to imagine.” He lifted her hand, brushing his lips across her gloved knuckles.
“Nonsense. You adore us.”
His gaze softened on her, and she caught her breath at the emotion there in the depths of his lovely blue eyes. “Indeed. I do.”
He was so close. She could just reach up and kiss him …
No. That would not be at all appropriate.
How long before they could leave this silly ball?
Understanding flashed in Nick’s eyes. He leaned closer. “Soon,” he whispered, the word soft and wicked and filled with promise. “For now, would you like to dance, beauty?”
She could not keep the blush of pleasure from spreading across her cheeks. “Yes, please.”
He swept her into the crowd of dancers, waltzing across the grounds. After long moments of swaying and swirling to the music, he noticed the secret smile on her face and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I am thinking about the second reason that I wanted to return to the ball.”
He raised one brow. “Which was?”
“To show all these ladies who read Pearls and Pelisses that this particular lord has been well and truly landed.”
His bark of laughter was entirely too loud, the way he pulled her to him entirely too close, drawing the attention of the couples around them.
They would be the talk of the ton for months after tonight.
And it would only grow worse when they had all discovered that Isabel was the daughter of the Wastrearl … and that she was supposed to be in mourning.
But as she laughed and danced in the strong arms of this man who loved her … she simply could not bring herself to care. And when he leaned down and whispered quietly in her ear…
Well, there were worse things in the world than the scandal caused by love.
Epilogue
Lesson Number Ten