The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 20

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"I hardly think that's something to be upset about," Violet said, pulling on her riding gloves as she joined Isabelle at the window. Violet's suite looked down towards the stable yard, a decidedly less desirable view than Isabelle's of the gardens. The pair of them looked down to where the debutantes and courtiers milled about on dancing horses, their breath pluming in the chilly autumn morning.

"I'm betrothed, Violet," Isabelle said, her arms still folded as they had been since she'd arrived to her friend's suite. Her usually bright eyes were circled, which was had prompted Violet's prodding and resulted in Isabelle revealing what had transpired last night. As always, Violet had listened quietly, offering no judgement as the secrets tumbled from Isabelle's lips.

"To a man who hasn't returned a single one of your letters," Violet pointed out. Isabelle shot her a glare, only to earn a shrug in return.

"As far as I can tell, you're the first one of us that he's kissed," Violet continued, toying with her gloves. "Any other debutante would kill to be in your position."

Cora's name hung in the air between them, unspoken.

Isabelle inhaled, her eyes instinctively straying to Graham's sandy hair as he strode around the courtyard before she forced them to look elsewhere. She'd tossed and turned all night, her mind warring with itself as she alternated between hating Graham and dreaming about their kisses. She'd ended up tangled in her sheets, more exhausted and confused than ever before.

She'd kept repeating her father's words to herself, only for her sleep-deprived mind to start spinning down another track, wondering whether those words applied to Leo as well. But Leo had known her far longer than Graham. More importantly, Leo loved her. The same could hardly be said for Graham, who barely knew her. If Leo had only wanted her lands, she'd be married by now.

Or would she?

It was always her father delaying their nuptials, finding some excuse or other to push them off again and again. When Leo had announced his stopover on his way to Ardalone, Isabelle had convinced herself that their wedding was imminent, with a foreign honeymoon to Ardalone on its heels. But Papa had flatly refused and Leo had angrily continued on to Relizia alone, to attend the Ardalonians' royal wedding without her.

She hadn't heard a word from him, despite his promise to write and her near-daily letters. Originally she'd assumed it was some ruse of the queen's, keeping her mail from her, but perhaps Leo hadn't bothered to write at all. Perhaps he was angry with her for going to Highcastle, despite the reassurances she'd crammed into each of her letters. He was no friend of Graham's and the thought of his future bride as one of his debutantes was probably most infuriating.

Unless, of course, Leo didn't really love her and was only after her lands. Because if he didn't care for her, he had no reason to reassure her. If he was after her lands, he'd likely be arguing with her father. Her father, who had willingly sent her to Highcastle rather than allow her to go to Relizia as a married woman...

When the clock on her mantelpiece had barely edged past three in the morning, Isabelle had given up on sleeping and had made up her mind. Lighting a candle, she trimmed her quill and penned a letter to her father, demanding, in no uncertain terms, that he tell her exactly why he'd refused to let her marry Leo. She spared him the details about her conflicting emotions, knowing he'd only worry if she troubled him with such nonsense, but she did inform him that she knew there was more afoot. She was tired of being the last to know what was happening.