Seduction & Scandal Read Free

Whitby to bring her back to London.
    The wonder and novelty of town life had soon worn thin. There had been so many balls this past week, despite it being October. It seemed that the aristocracy no longer found it necessary to depart for their country estates atthe end of the season as they did in the past. Perhaps it was because the nouveau riche rarely ever left London. An aristocrat could hardly marry off his titled daughter to a wealthy businessman if he was up in Yorkshire with sheep and trees.
    No, the marriage mart had extended well beyond the traditional season. And this season, it was no secret that the Marquis not only wanted to marry off his daughter, but his niece, as well.
    Isabella had been taken with the idea at first. The romance of a courtship, rides in the park, the soirées, the balls, the musicales. It had not taken long before she realized that the thought of going out yet another night provoked her to distemper. Not even Lucy who had been born and raised in this way of life enjoyed the endless parties.
    They were a fine pair, Isabella thought, as she slipped the delicate silver strap of her reticule higher onto her wrist. Lucy was content to pursue her interest in the occult, and Isabella was happy writing the stories that constantly filled her head. Both of them were originals, and nothing like a young lady of good breeding should be. Perhaps both of them had inherited Isabella’s mother’s taste for shunning the ideals of what made a woman a proper lady. Lord knew her mother had been nothing like her sister. Aunt Mildred had always been frightfully proper—haughty, even. So unlike Isabella’s mother who shunned society’s rules. Lucy, Isabella thought, very much reminded Isabella of her own mother—both in looks and temperament. She wasn’t the only who had thought so, either. Aunt Mildred had despaired of Lucy becoming just like her “fallen unfortunate sister.” That fear had been so great that upon Lucy’s tenth birthday, Aunt Mildred had refused to come to Yorkshire to visit them. They had been kept separate after that, lest Lucy catch the wanton, wild streak Isabella’s mother had never outgrown.
    There hadn’t ever been any fear that Isabella would endup like her mother. She had learned a hard lesson, from a very young age. She would not follow her mother’s footsteps.
    â€œMy toes are already pinched,” Lucy hissed into her ear as they stood and watched the swell of dancers waltzing around the overly hot room. “And I fear my forehead is glistening.”
    Isabella studied Lucy. “Only a titch. Can you discreetly wipe it?”
    â€œNot likely. I feel like all eyes are on us.”
    â€œNot us, you, sweetie,” Isabella murmured. “I think they’re waiting to see if the Duke of Sussex will come up to scratch tonight.”
    â€œGood Lord, let us hope not,” Lucy moaned as she furiously beat the air with her fan. “I cannot for the life of me imagine His Grace at a séance.”
    Hiding her laugh behind her hand, Isabella stood on tiptoes, searching for the duke who had become increasingly more ardent in his pursuit of her cousin. He glanced their way, and immediately his expression changed from feigned politeness to brooding. Sussex certainly could brood, and he looked immensely handsome while doing so. Why her cousin could not see this, Isabella had no idea. The way he stared at Lucy was positively worthy of a dramatic swoon.
    â€œDo you like him, Luce?”
    â€œHe’s handsome. Rich. Titled. He has at least four estates spread throughout the kingdom and I hear he’s a bit of philanthropist to boot—belongs to all sorts of charities and committees to better the ordinary man and those less fortunate. A virtual paragon,” Lucy muttered as she glanced away from Sussex’s prolonged stare. “Of course I should like him, but I confess that I do not feel much more than