THE HEIRESS
EPISODE 15
From U.S Bah ❤ ✌?
The next morning, Isabelle had risen before the
sun, twin purple smudges un-der her eyes after
a sleepless night.
The rest of the ballet had
been uneventful, with Byron reappearing to
escort her back to the carriage at the end of
the performance. What the unsavoury lout had
gotten up to during the second act, Isabelle
didn’t much care, but his vacant seat beside
her had been a source of amusement for
Graham when he returned to the box with Cora.
Her friend had studiously ignored her even as
they had climbed into the same carriage,
conversing in whispers with Graham the entire
ride back to the palace.
Isabelle had been too
lost in thought about Graham’s words to care
much about that either, the nauseous pit in her
stomach growing as she turned his story over
in her head. Beside her, Byron had been just
as sullen and silent, staring out his own
window.
Graham’s words had kept her awake nearly all
night. Lissa had helped her change out of her
evening wear and Isabelle had asked her maid
to check again whether there were any letters
waiting for her.
She’d written another letter to
Leo, once again decrying Graham and asking
for news of Ardalone, instructing Lissa to send
it at first light. She knew that it had only been
a day since she had last written, but so much
seemed to have happened that she couldn’t
help but worry that there might be a grain of
truth to Graham’s words about Eastcliffe.
So she’d lain awake, staring at the canopy of
the bed as an owl had hooted outside. She
tried to for-ce her mind away from Hendrik and
the well, but it seemed bent on betraying her,
reminding her instead of Sam and his troubling
preoccu-pation with Cora Neasmith. Turning
that notion over in her head, Isabelle asked
herself whether it was truly troubling, or
troubling only because Violet had expressed an
interest in Sam while Cora was clearly not
interested in anyone without a crown.
Isabelle couldn’t for-ce her friends to pair off
according to her own wishes, but she knew
that nothing good would come from the whole
mess. Cora was easily the most beautiful of
the debutantes, with her golden hair and
cornflower blue eyes, so it was no wonder that
Sam had taken such an instant interest in her.
Next to Cora, Violet was rather plain, with her
chubby, childish cheeks and her big brown
eyes. Unfortunately for Violet, Cora’s beauty hid
her disagreeable disposition, while Violet’s
looks had never done much to attra-ct suitors.
Mulling over how she might change Sam’s
mind, Isabelle couldn’t formulate a plan beyond
what she’d already tried.
She’d already warned
Sam about Cora’s less-than-ideal temperament,
but Sam, like all the Winters men, was
stubborn. He wouldn’t believe it until he either
decided to listen or learned otherwise on his
own. If his behaviour at the ballet had been
any indication, he was leaning insistently
towards the latter.
So much for solving the world’s problems with
her insomnia, Isabelle thought.
When a robin had started warbling outside her
window, his song heralding the coming dawn,
she gave up altogether on attempting to sleep.
Wrapping herself in a dressing gown, she
stoked her own fire and curled up in an
armchair to await Lissa’s arrival, hoping that
she would have at least some news of her
betrothed.
Her ladies’ maid did not disappoint, appearing
with an envelope nestled between the plates
on her breakfast tray. Isabelle’s greeting was
perfunctory as she nearly pounced on the
maid, ignoring the food in favour of the
message.
“The courier woke me in the middle of the
night,” Lissa yawned, nodding towards the
letter in her mistress’ hands.
“I hope all is well
in Kentshire?”
Isabelle had completely ignored the seal in her
haste to break it open, instantly recognizing
her father’s handwriting with a pang of
disappointment. Attempting to rea-ssure herself,
she for-ced herself to be thankful that at least
one of her sent letters had gotten throu-gh.
Dearest Isabelle,
I am glad that you are well, though I am
sending provisions in case they fail to feed you
properly. I have also ensured that this message
be carried directly into your hands as what I am
about to write will not be looked upon kindly by
the royal family.
Mind that you keep your distance from Prince
Graham. Word of your escapades has already
reached Kentshire, which means that it will
reach Ardalone soon as well. “Charming” as he
may be, it is not in your best interests to spar
with him, as I’m sure you have been.
Spend your time with your friends and Sam
Winters for they, at least, are allies of ours.
Lord Winters came calling the day I arrived
home and had some rather unsavoury things to
say about how the crown had compelled him to
send his son to their farce of a Season as well.
It seems that the king has one favourite threat
and he’s used it against all of his borderlands.
I hope this letter finds you happier than you
sounded in your last.
Bide your time and mind
your manners, my darling, and it won’t be long
before you’re home. You would be wise not to
irk the queen and not to draw too much
attention to yourself, from both the royals and
any others interested in finding a potential bride.
Please remember that many men would see you
as little more than land in a skirt, when I know,
beyond a doubt, that you are so very much
more.
With love, forever,
Papa
“All is well,” Isabelle said to rea-ssure Lissa,
reaching for a piece of toast as she mulled
over her father’s words. Her stomach had
plummeted with dread when he’d mentioned
that news of her “escapades” had already
reached Kentshire.
What escapades? Her
entrance and prompt ejection from the queen’s
first dinner? The prince having chosen her for
his first dance? Or that he had escorted her in
to his own table during the debutantes’ first
dinner with the royal family?
The more she thought about all the things that
Graham had been doing, the more the pit in
her stomach yawned open. Leopold would not
be pleased if he heard about any one of them,
but some were far more damning than the
others. Her betrothed would likely have
laughed and congratulated her for being kicked
out of the dining room by the queen, but he
would most certainly not laugh upon hearing
that she’d piqued the interest of the crown
prince.
Mother and I have both been a-ssigned the
same task, so while we are both striving
towards the same goal, we’re following very
different paths to attain it…
The only goal Graham’s mother had ever
mentioned was in getting her to remove her
ring…
Child, there are more ways than one to remove
a ring…
Isabelle’s stomach tumbled, the toast turning
to ash in her mouth. This was their plan, then.
If she wouldn’t remove the ring on her own,
they’d do it for her. They’d sabotage her
relationship with Leo by making it seem as if
she wasn’t behaving the way a proper
betrothed lady should. They’d ensure that she
earned a reputation as one of the prince’s
favourite debutantes, which was already well-
established thanks to his choice of first dance
partner. Such notoriety had already begun to
isolate her from the other debutantes, all while
ensuring that the gossip mongers spread word
of her esteemed position far and wide.
Knowing the prince, he’d be sure that the
stories were wildly exaggerated so that it
seemed Isabelle was warming to life in
Highcastle. If Leopold got wind of such lies…
She nearly overturned the breakfast table in her
haste to fish out a quill and ink from the
escritoire in the corner. She wouldn’t let that
cow of a queen outsmart her, nor would she
allow the meddlesome crown prince to drive a
wedge between her and her betrothed. For
now, all she could do was tell Leopold the
truth and hope that he would trust her rather
than whatever gossip had already reached
Kentshire and was surely on the way to
Ardalone. She’d tell him how she’d kept her
ring and how they were punishing her for it, by
making it look as if she and the prince were
getting on when it was really all a ploy to tear
them apart.
She filled three pages with rea-ssurances
peppered with insults about Graham, folding
and sealing the letter before any of her ladies-
in-waiting had risen. Settling back at the
breakfast table to poke at her now cold toast,
Isabelle’s traitorous mind asked the one
question she’d been attempting to avoid all
night as she tucked the sealed letter in among
the dishes.
Was Leopold really the man she thought he
was? If not, did it really matter what he thought
of her?
Graham’s mirthless laugh echoed in Isabelle’s
head as she turned her gaze out the window,
where the air had turned a hazy pink with the
rising sun. Try as she might to dissect
Graham’s story, she couldn’t help but pick out
all the flaws in Leopold’s version in
comparison. But now that she’d figured out
Graham’s goal, of driving her and Leo apart,
did she even trust his story at all? Perhaps it
was a clever spin on what had really
happened, the truth of the matter lying
somewhere between the two stories.
When Lissa came to collect the breakfast tray,
Isabelle made up her mind. Fetching enough
gold to ensure that the letter reached Leopold
in Ardalone as quickly as it could, Isabelle
entrusted it to Lissa. Her maid disappeared
with the tray, promising to return soon to help
her dress.
Sitting down at her vanity, Isabelle couldn’t
bear to look at herself as she brushed out her
hair, not when the blue smudges un-der her
eyes kept reminding her of little prince
Hendrik.
To be continued….