Isabella by Loretta Chase Read Free Book Online

companions.
    "At any rate," her mother went on, "as if that were not fatiguing enough, they are soon followed by a host of dandies and other fine gentlemen. And then comes that tall young man—Lord Hartleigh, is it?"
    Isabella nodded, and bent quickly again to her sewing.
    "And he was here again today, asking after you. I'm afraid your Aunt Charlotte is quite vexed."
    A quick scan of her parent's features showed no evidence of distress at this state of affairs.
    "He stayed only a few minutes, you know. And Charlotte was very cross with me after. You must not run about London breaking hearts, my love. It is very tiresome for your cousins." A throaty chuckle accompanied this last. It was a sound very much like that which had not long ago so overset the Earl of Hartleigh—who might have been relieved to learn that it was merely a family trait (like hair colour), and not some cruel siren trick.
    "I'm sorry, Mama. I shall try to restrain myself in the future."
    "Do, love. You have no idea how your aunt frets about these poor gentlemen. And I do sympathise. One can become quite suffocated with all these beaux sighing about the house." In illustration, she sighed once again.
    "Mama," said Isabella firmly, "for one, if anyone is to suffocate us, it is the servants. For another, you know as well as I do that nobody is sighing, and certainly not on my account. And for a third—"
    "I pray you will not indulge in higher mathematics, Isabella."
    "For a third," her daughter went on, "this is a light spring shower compared to the deluge we may expect after Veronica and Alicia come out. And for a fourth, Mama, you are the most dreadful tease!"
    "Yes, I know, darling. I can't help it." Mrs. Latham pulled herself up to a sitting position and invited her daughter to join her on the sofa. As soon as they were settled, she said, patting Isabella's hand, "We must speak seriously, my dear. About two matters. First, you were very naughty not to tell your aunt about your first meeting with Lord Hartleigh. She has got wind of it from the servants and told me that when he came today she did not know where to look, she was so mortified." A low chuckle indicated the extent to which Maria sympathised with her sister-in-law.
    "Oh dear, Mama. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was sure there would be a fuss and I just wanted to forget the whole episode." Isabella flushed. "I do hope Aunt Charlotte said nothing to Lord Hartleigh about it..."
    "No, my love, she said all she had to say to me; at considerable length, I might add. But no matter. Apparently Lord Hartleigh bears no grudges." She gave her daughter a sidelong glance. "As I am sure you do not, Isabella—for it is quite wicked, you know, to bear a grudge."
    "Yes, Mama."
    "But to the other matter. What of his charming cousin? From what I have heard, he suffers from an excess of creditors. Not that there is anything so unusual in that." Maria paused, apparently distracted by another thought. "And if there is affection, of course—"
    "I believe he is simply after my money," Isabella responded softly.
    "In that case, perhaps you might send him about his business?"
    "Perhaps."
    "Unless you are fond of him," Maria added, as though she had not heard her daughter's reply.
    "No."
    "At any rate, you do not lack other suitors."
    "Mama, they are all in love with my income," Isabella cried. "Every impoverished gentleman in London has put his name on my dance card and made his call. I have had so many offers to ride in the park that I could spend the next ninety years in curricles, with my feet never once touching the earth." Though she spoke ironically, her eyes began to glisten with tears, which she determinedly withheld.
    "How peculiar that so many impoverished young men should have so many curricles," her mother noted abstractedly.
    "I am sure the money lenders do not find it peculiar at all."
    "You are right, my dear. Money lenders understand everything, even the most inscrutable. But that was not my