The thought that the spell was making him kinder and more appealing was something she dismissed right away. Based on what had happened to all those other victims, the goal had been to create a monster. She had interfered and made something else.
Though Isobel knew the demon inside him was still there, she tried her best to forget about it. Maybe it was cowardly to ignore it, but she couldn’t get through her daily life unless she did. So she accepted her husband’s affection and tried to treat him with the same consideration he demonstrated for her. The “other” inside him was put into a locked room in her mind, one she didn’t open until she had to. Otherwise, she would go stark screaming mad.
The Conte visited on several occasions, and he seemed pleased with the semblance of normalcy that Matteo was able to maintain. She warned Aldo that that’s all it was, a temporary reprieve, but he didn’t care. He invited several of his friends over to pay calls to his son and had even gone so far as to secure them invitations to the last events of the little Season.
Isobel was nervous about mixing with others at such large social events. The calls paid to them at the country house had been stressful enough without having to worry about making small talk or dancing in a ton ballroom. But Matteo had been so taken with the idea of socializing, of being a normal man again, that she hadn’t the heart to say no.
That night was going to be their first ball. Compared to the ones held during the regular Season it would be small, only a few hundred or so people. Which was a few hundred too many for Isobel. Fortunately for her, their debut in society as a couple had been delayed until she had a wardrobe befitting a rich lord’s wife.
They had had to wait for the ton’s most fashionable modiste, madame Josephina, to make up a new ball gown for her, as well as dresses for morning, afternoon, and evening, along with an assortment of matching pelisses. Additionally, there was a riding habit, a la militaire as was the fashion, and a multitude of gloves, hats, muffs, and everything else the ton deemed necessary garb for a woman to leave her house.
Her new blue day dress from Carrbridge had been immediately discarded as soon as the new purchases began to arrive. The waste bothered Isobel, but Matteo had laughed at her and told her to get used to being spoiled now that she was a future Countess.
She reluctantly abandoned her work in the library a few hours before the ball in order to get ready. The gown she was wearing was a deep emerald green velvet, with short sleeves and a full skirt.
Unlike the other fashionable gowns of the ton, it was modestly cut at the bust. Isobel didn’t want to worry about falling out of her gown and dancing at the same time.
Her time as a governess hadn’t prepared her for a ton ballroom, but she did have a little familiarity with the waltz. In her former position at Sir Isaac Warton’s home, she’d accompanied the dancing master as he taught her charges in preparation for their come-out. But dancing in front of a hundred people was not the same as dancing in front of two spoiled young ladies and their bored ten-year-old brother.
Isobel put on her new gown with trepidation, dressing by herself. With an overabundance of caution, she’d decided not to employ a lady’s maid. The fewer servants they had the better. She put her hair in a simple style, only slightly more elaborate than her normal coiffure. Her stays and the dress fastened in the front at her request, so she didn’t need to call Matteo in to help her.
When she was done, she gave herself a long critical inspection in the bedroom looking-glass. It was still her, but different. The green set off her skin nicely and deepened the color of her eyes.
Fine feathers, she thought. Feeling slightly fraudulent, she pulled on her gloves and then smoothed her skirts.
Never in her life had she worn such a beautiful dress, not even as a child. Especially as a child, she thought, remembering the sorry state of her dresses after an afternoon rambling in the woods. She was no longer that carefree, careless girl, but the thought of spilling something on herself was enough to make her bite her nails in anxiety.
At this point, however, humiliating herself was the least of her concerns.
Matteo was waiting for her on the stairs. When he saw her coming down the steps he froze, his lips parting.
“Cara, you are a vision,” he said, his eyes wide.
Isobel laughed despite her trepidation. “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” she replied cheekily, although she could feel her cheeks pinkening with pleasure.
He smiled and took her hand and spun her in a slow circle. When she faced him again, his expression was serious. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go out like this. You’re missing something.”
She glanced down at her gown and gloves in surprise. “What am I missing? I warn you nothing else is going to fit in this gown,” she said, running her hands down the tight bodice in a cursory examination.
“Well, compared to the other ladies who’ll be at the party, you’re nearly naked.”