He grinned. That’s what she always said, and like always, the servant was quick to obey.
“Yes, my lady.”
Then she swept in. Jackson waited long enough for her to have moved into the ballroom, then followed. The doorman recognized him, of course, but he couldn’t go against Isabelle. Excellent. He flashed the man a jaunty grin, then slipped in as unobtrusively as possible and tried to locate Gwen.
He didn’t see her at first, and when he did, he felt ashamed that it had taken him so long to find her. He’d expected her to be at the edge of the ballroom, watching the proceedings from the sidelines. It wasn’t that he doubted her ability to shine, just that he knew she preferred to stay in the shadows. And yet there she was, in the center of a crowd near the lemonade stand, beaming with happiness as she looked at the crowd around her. He didn’t know what she’d done, but it was clear that she’d truly stepped into the beauty that was all her.
His heart swelled with pride.
Then one word rang out from Isabelle, so loud it silenced everything else.
“Rubbish!”
He jolted, along with everyone else. Then he pressed forward, intent on getting to Gwen’s side. He needed to support her. But before he could do more than take three steps, he heard Gwen’s clear tones, sounding melodic against Isabelle’s gong-like voice.
“Aunt Isabelle, I didn’t know you were coming to Almack’s tonight.”
“Neither did I,” the woman snapped. “I came to save you from yourself.” She tsked. “You were the smart one, Gwen. I cannot understand why you allowed yourself to be duped by that terrible man. Not only has he poisoned your mind, but he has brought you into his evil schemes. Imagine suggesting that a flower is magical. He’s a liar and a reprobate. You need to denounce him immediately.”
“He was your friend and employee for a decade, Aunt. And I have deceived no one.” She shook her head. “You were never one to make cruel assumptions about anyone. What has happened to your logic that you do so now?”
“Gwen,” Isabelle saidin the heaviest of accents. “You have been deceived! And I am at my wits end as to how to protect you.”
The words had their intended effect. Not on Gwen, of course, who seemed completely unruffled by the drama, but on the mothers in the room. As one, they gestured their children away from Gwen. Gentlemen frowned, unsure how they should react. And the ladies shifted uncomfortably, using the motions to step back.
“But Aunt,” Gwen said with a laugh. “You were the one who told me that a woman of maturity didn’t need anyone’s protection.” She stepped forward. “I am a woman on the shelf. Even my mother has said so. My mind is clear, and my soul is happy. I have no need of your protection, least of all from the man who gave me such beautiful daffodils.”
“Don’t be ridiculous—” Isabelle began, but apparently Gwen had had enough. She threw up her hands in frustration.
“Why are you so afraid of a yellow flower?”
“It’s not the flower, you idiot girl. It’s Lord Sayres! He has led you down a garden path.”
“Yes. To buy his flowers!”
“My God,” Isabelle cried. “Patricia, can’t you manage your own child? What has happened to her mind?”
Gwen’s mother looked confused as her gaze hopped between her daughter and her nearest relation. “Isabelle, I don’t think this is seemly.”
“It most certainly isn’t,” Isabelle gasped. “Lord Sayres—”
“Has just this night proposed to me,” interrupted Gwen. Then she glanced at the gentlemen around her. “It’s why I was encouraging you to look at all these other lovely ladies.” She looked back at her mother, her eyes shining. “He professed his love just this evening, and…” Her gaze found his. “I have discovered to my shock that I am head over heels in love with him. I should like to accept your proposal, my lord. If that is agreeable?”
That was his cue. He stepped around the crowd and walked forward, dropping to one knee as soon as he was close enough to clasp her hands and kiss them. “It would be my greatest honor,” he said. And he meant it.
All around them the ladies sighed in delight. All except Isabelle, who cried out.
“He is doing it for your dowry! Can’t you see?”
“My dowry? But he already has it.”
“Not without marrying you, you idiot.”
She blew out her breath, speaking in the tones of a woman patiently explaining something to a simpleton. “But don’t you remember, Aunt? You told me yourself that I am of age to control my own fortune. You told me that less than two weeks ago. And you were right.”
“But—”
“I have already invested my dowry. It’s all gone,” Gwen said with a grin. “All Lord Sayres is getting is myself and my love.”