The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 14

Isabelle toyed with the prince's handkerchief, finally ducking into a corner of the busy upper entrance hall landing to dab at her eyes. She grimaced as the fine cloth touched her skin, still carrying a hint of the prince's cologne. She'd noticed it earlier in the carriage and had hated how similar it smelled to Leopold's, a musky blend of bergamot and sage.

Thinking of her betrothed, a wave of guilt washed over her as she glanced down at her left hand. It felt naked, despite the gloves, too accustomed to the weight of the ring that usually graced her fourth finger. Reaching for the place where it hung around her neck, she worried at it, toying with the diamond as she turned her eyes towards the milling nobles in the marble entrance hall. She was of half a mind to rip off her gloves and slide the ring back to its rightful place, heedless of appearances, if only so she could feel closer to her betrothed in such an unkind place.

Only it wasn't really that unkind, not entirely...

Isabelle scowled down at Graham's handkerchief as the thought sailed into her head. Where on Earth had that idea come from? Of course Highcastle was unkind. It was a court filled with liars and manipulators, not kittens and puppy dogs. She'd barely been there for a week and already she'd made an enemy of the queen, her ladies-in-waiting, and, most likely, a number of the debutantes. Now was not the time for her to be letting her guard down and getting emotional over something as trivial as a ballet.

Gritting her teeth, she crushed the handkerchief between her fingers. Of everything, now was especially not the time for her to be doubting the crown prince's cruel reputation and ulterior motives. Disgusted with herself, Isabelle realized that Graham's gifts of food for her growling stomach and a handkerchief for her tears had almost blinded her to the man she'd been warned that he was.

How dare the prince pretend to be so decent when she knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he wasn't? She'd been a stupid little girl to think that Leopold had perhaps misjudged him, that Graham was arrogant and conceited, but not dangerous. as Leopold had said. That kind of doubt was probably what Graham had intended to plant in her mind and she'd been foolish enough to allow it.

Pushing out of the corner she'd cowered in, she dropped the prince's handkerchief, abandoning it on the marble floor of the landing as she searched for a friendly face. Thankfully, Sam Winters stood nearly a head taller than most of the assembled nobles, a glass of scotch in his hand as he leaned down to listen to someone. His eyes, however, were roving the hall. They jumped past Isabelle, following someone's progress behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, Isabelle's lip curled as Cora and the prince emerged from the royal box. In no mood to get caught up in whatever trick Graham had planned next, she wove through the nobles towards Sam.

"Isabelle!" Violet exclaimed, wrapping her friend in a hug. Violet's outburst seemed to have pulled Sam from whatever spell he'd been under, blinking as he tore his eyes from whoever he'd still been watching across the room.

"Enjoying the show?" Isabelle asked, cocking her eyebrow at Sam. His jaw muscle quivered impatiently.

"Very much, aren't you?" Violet asked, oblivious to the fact that Isabelle was subtly scolding Sam for not paying attention to his companion.

"It's lovely," Isabelle said, forcing her features to relax into a smile so her friend wouldn't worry. "I'm eager to see what they do with the second act."

"If it's anywhere near as marvellous as the first, we're in for a treat," Violet agreed, glancing up at Sam. Isabelle groaned inwardly when she realized that the big oaf had, once again, turned his attention elsewhere. She pretended to smooth her skirts as she edged her slipper towards his foot, stomping down hard on his boot.