His gaze narrowed on her, and she recognized disbelief there. She willed him not to ask any further questions.

“You did not want to take your rightful place in society?”

One side of her mouth kicked up in a wry smile. “Tell me, Lord Nicholas, do they often clear a spot at Almack’s for the daughter of the Wastrearl?”

His gaze darkened. “Hang Almack’s.”

“Spoken like a man who is at liberty to avoid it.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. My family is not without its fair share of scandal, Isabel. Indeed, my sister was recently denied entrance to Almack’s.”

Her eyes widened. “You jest.”

“I do not.”

“But she is the sister of the Marquess of Ralston!”

“Half-sister,” Nick said wryly, “But until mere months ago, my brother was welcome in society under severe duress. His was not the most pristine of pasts.”

“What happened to change it? ”

“He married a woman with an unimpeachable reputation and connections to the most powerful families of the ton.”

“An excellent strategy.”

Nick smiled. “It would have been if Gabriel had strategized to win her. He did not. Instead, he fell in love. Quite accidentally.”

Isabel’s brow furrowed. “Such a thing happens? ”

“Apparently. They’re rather sick over each other.”

Isabel ignored the tug of envy that came with his tale—so unfathomable. “How nice.”

He smiled. “My point is, with or without Almack’s, you could have come out. You could still take your place there.”

Isabel considered the words. It had been a long time—years—since she had even thought of the trappings of society. She would not even know where to begin to enter society, and the idea of having to learn all the rules and regulations of the ton was enough to set panic loose within.

No. London was not for her.

“I think you overestimate the skills with which women of the aristocracy are born.”

He tilted his head, a question in his eyes.

She gave a little sigh before turning away. She ran her hand along the edge of a nearby pedestal and confessed, “I would not know how to begin to be a society lady: I am certain that my conversational style is entirely wrong; I would certainly embarrass myself and everyone around me during my first social situation; while I am a competent seamstress, I have no knowledge of needlepoint; I don’t have any understanding of fashion; and I cannot dance.” She winced as the words flooded out of her. Certainly he would not find them at all flattering.

Not that she cared if he found her flattering or not.

Liar.

Isabel ignored the little voice in her head.

“You cannot dance? ”

Of course he would latch on to that. “Not really.”

“Well, that seems like it would be easy to fix.”

She gave a little laugh. “In case you had not noticed, my lord, there are not very many dance masters this far north.”

“Aren’t you lucky that I am here, then? I would very much like to teach you to dance.”

She swiveled her head toward him in disbelief. “I beg your pardon? ”

“I think we should begin tonight. There is a ballroom in this house, is there not? ”

“Yes.” Surely he wasn’t serious.

“Excellent. After dinner then?”

She blinked. “After dinner?”

“I shall take that as resounding agreement.”

“I—”

“You aren’t afraid, are you?”

Well, now he’d thrown down the gauntlet.

She cleared her throat. “Of course not.”

He smiled. “I did not think so. Now, if you would stop distracting me, I will see you at dinner.”

“I—yes, of course.” In a daze, she began to move through the statues toward the door.

“Oh, and Isabel?”

The sound of her name on his lips was a wicked promise, even from a respectable distance. She spun back, suddenly breathless. “Yes?”

“Just for tonight … shall we pretend you aren’t in mourning?”

The words sent a thrill through her, and she had an immediate sense that if she were to agree to his request, it would change everything.

She took a deep breath, hovering on the brink of an answer for a long moment. No matter what she told herself, she was not immune to this man and to his charms. He was the ultimate temptation. And she wanted to give in.

She took a deep breath.

“That sounds like a lovely idea.”

Thirteen

Nick had just tucked in his shirt in preparation for dinner when the knock sounded on the door to his bedchamber. He snapped around at the sound, immediately on edge, then shook off the response.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he had been on edge since his afternoon with Isabel … and that he was eagerly awaiting the evening ahead.

But then he had little interest in being honest with himself.

A second knock sounded, and he turned in time to see James poke his head through the narrow space between the door and its seat.

“I hear you are joining us for dinner.”

Nick raised a brow in response. “I had planned to, yes.”

James nodded solemnly. “Good.”

The boy did not move from his position, half inside, half outside the room. Instead, he watched as Nick turned back to the looking glass and lifted a comb to tame his sable curls.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke, until, finally, Nick said, “Would you like to come in, Lord Reddich? ”