She scowled at him, but he just grinned at her. With a twinkle in his eye, he took a thin box from a nearby table and presented it to her with a flourish.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“You can’t make your debut in society without being properly attired,” he said as she opened the box.
Her mouth dropped open. Nestled against the soft black interior of the box was a stunning emerald necklace and matching set of earrings. Mixed between the large oval cut emeralds were smaller glittering brown stones.
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her first thought, after she recovered from her surprise, was that she couldn’t wear it.
“I’m going to lose it,” she said with a creased brow.
Matteo chuckled and took the necklace out of the box. “I assure you the clasp is very secure.”
“What are these brown stones?” she asked, touching their cool smooth surface as he fastened the necklace around her neck.
“They’re a variant of goldstone. I told the jeweler that I wanted something that reminded me of your eyes. I’m very pleased with the result,” he said, his breath warm on the back of her neck just before he pressed a kiss there. “He’s making up a matching brooch and bracelet as well, but so far only this and the earrings are ready. It was a bit of a rush job.”
He removed the droplet earrings and helped her fasten them, taking advantage of the necessary proximity to press another kiss below her ear. Flushed and warm, she took the arm he extended to her and they climbed into the carriage.
Perhaps the night wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 21
Isobel smiled with gritted teeth as the rotund earl she was dancing with stepped on her feet yet again.
She really needn’t have worried about her performance on the dance floor. What the dancing master should have taught her and her charges was a way to defend themselves, or more precisely their feet, from the onslaught of clumsy partners.
Foot-murdering earls aside, the night had been surprisingly pleasant. The large ballroom was impressively gilded with a multitude of crystal chandeliers. Elegantly dressed people milled about, trying not to appear to be enjoying themselves too much.
The men were more uniformly dressed in black, but the women wore a multitude of colors. She admired their jewel-like gowns from a distance, grateful that her husband’s good taste ensured she was not out of place. The new jewels she wore had been universally admired. Her gown was not the only one in that particular shade of green, but it was among the most elegant.
A number of young ladies wore white, and after speaking to a few of them, she learned they were here in advance of the regular season to acquire a social polish in a less demanding and critical setting. When the regular Season commenced, their manners and looks would be evaluated and judged in the highly competitive marriage mart. The entire future of some families rested on making an advantageous match for their daughters.
It was a cutthroat business. Isobel wondered if she would have been subjected to a similar ordeal in Edinburgh had her father lived. They had never discussed giving her a season.
Turning away from her cheerless thoughts she focused on the novelty of her surroundings. In addition to the extravagantly decorated ballroom, the buffet had been lavishly laid with game, lobster patties, and other assorted delicacies. To her eyes it looked sumptuous, but she heard more than one person sniff that it was miserly compared to the buffets laid during the regular season.
The only real problem was the dancing. She suppressed a wince when her partner trod on her toes once more. Hot and winded, she was glad when the dying strains of music signaled an end to the torture. With relief, she allowed the slightly sour-smelling earl to escort her back to her party.
In addition to her husband and his father, she was surrounded by a circle of their acquaintances, friends they had made in previous visits and kept up through correspondence.
To her surprise, the circle also included family, a young cousin of Matteo’s named Gideon Wells, the son of Clarence’s youngest sister, Anna.
Gideon, a youth eighteen years old, was down from Oxford with some friends for the weekend. He had been thrilled to learn Matteo was in town. He had latched onto him with endearing enthusiasm and was peppering him with questions about Italy and how his cousin had met her. He gave her a commiserating smile when she rejoined the party.
“Did ’ol Lynton leave you crippled? I told my uncle it was a bad idea to accept his request for a dance,” he whispered with a genial grin.
Isobel allowed herself a tiny smile in response before assuring him that she was fine. But her amusement dropped away quickly when she caught sight of her husband.
A streak of cold ran through her overheated body. Matteo’s eyes were dark—too dark. And there was a tell-tale streak of black in his aura. Fighting full-blown panic, she made her way to his side and slipped a hand in his arm.