The Beastkeeper's Redemption

Two

Two

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

21 Days Ago

Isabella Hawkins squinted at her reflection in the looking glass and patted, with a substantial force, at the itchy wig sitting atop her head.

Three rules, she told herself mentally, is all you need to remember.

Which shouldn't be that hard considering she remembered everything.

"One, do not get noticed," she intoned, her eyes darting to the disapproving glare her closest friend, Louisa Murdock, was issuing her. Undeterred, Izzy continued, "Two, do not get involved." At that, Lou rolled her eyes with a dramatic flare of her thick lashes. "And three, be a little weird."

"Well," the other woman drawled in a heavy, indiscernible accent, "at least the last one is easy for you." Lou huffed a frustrated breath, her shoulders bopping with the movement and sending her elaborate peignoir fluffing about her form. "I still think you are idiotic."

Lou had made no attempt to veil her abhorrence of Izzy's plan since she had confided in her a few days ago. But then again, Izzy hadn't expected her friend's acceptance. Her help was enough, and it was all she could ask for, if that at all.

Which was why she was here at all, ensconced in Louisa's private rooms at the temporary establishment she was residing in so that she was close not only to the theatre but to her latest paramour. Events had moved faster than Izzy had anticipated, and she had already secured a modest establishment in a reputable suburb where her sister could be immersed easily in polite society. Procuring the house, after all, was the hardest part. Now, all her and Cassandra had to do was... acclimate.

Blend in.

And therein lay the problem.

As rare as they were, actresses in London were well sought out, especially if one was able to make a name for oneself- which Izzy had. Her fluency and ability to memorise lines effortlessly only aided her endeavours and her nights were almost exclusively devoted to taking to the stage. She was prolific in renditions of Shakespeare's Macbeth, Othello and just about anything else, as well as La Chandelier, Masquerade and Danton's Death- to name but a few. Her name was scrawled across playbills monthly, her face an applauded familiarity from Drury Lane to Vauxhall Gardens.

And it was widely known that she had been associated romantically with Baron Isaac Beauchamp.

Which was a pretty way to insinuate that she had been his mistress.

Izzy had never held aspirations to become part of fashionable society and move about in the ton as a proper lady- that had never been afforded to her, not with her common upbringing.

But she had been bestowed an opportunity to give her sister the chance to.

"It will work," she said firmly, scrutinising her appearance once more in the looking glass. "It has to."

"Have you seen yourself?" Lou snapped, peeved. "You have the curves a man would go to war for, yet you try to hide it under this..." Her lip curled and she plucked at the sleeve of Izzy's dress as if the material were diseased. "... dog's blanket."

"I have to-"

"Ah, and your hair!" she wailed, suddenly forlorn, and flapped at her face as if she was about to expire from it all. "Such a waste! You wish to hide it under this fur..." Now, her fingers plucked at the wig, setting it askew atop Izzy's brow. "It is the colour of a rat."