Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(26)

“And you married her, why?”

“I thought you would be pleased,” he said.

“Jason, I have wanted nothing more than for you to marry and start your own family, you know that. Of course I am pleased. She seems like a lovely girl. But it is obvious you did not marry her for love.”

“Very few people are afforded that.”

She inclined her head. “True. Still, it is something you wish for your children.”

“One out of two isn’t bad odds, Mother.”

“You have not answered my question.”

“I married her, that is the important part,” he said.

“This has something to do with the Brotherhood?”

He shushed her. “You are not even supposed to know about that. And for good reason.”

“I can keep a secret, which I assured you when I discovered your association with the Brotherhood. It is dangerous work, my love, and I worry.”

He reached forward and patted her hands. “I need for you to assist Isabel in becoming more a part of Society. I think she likely has the necessary skills, but is unsure of herself.”

“You know I will do what I can to help her. She is my daughter now.” She squeezed his hand. “Precisely the reason why I’ve decided to return to your townhome. Your brother is going back to the country for the remainder of the Season, and they no longer need my assistance.”

His initial reaction was to tell her she should go to Dorset with Patrick, but upon reflection, he recognized that having his mother on hand would be quite beneficial. For more than one reason. She could assist Isabel while also providing companionship, allowing him to stay farther away from his ever-tempting bride.

“Splendid. You know, more than anyone, how cruel Society can be. With your expert guidance, I know that Isabel shall make the transition smoothly,” he said.

“I see beyond that flattery, my son.” She smiled. “But that does not mean that your words do not work. I shall help your wife.”

“Starting with a shopping trip later today. She needs everything.”





Chapter Seven


Jason assisted Isabel out of the carriage and onto Bond Street. She didn’t move, though, as if her feet were planted to the cobbled stones. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the sights. He’d forgotten that all of this would be new to her. Damn Thornton and whoever else had been involved in hiding the girl away, for never allowing her to be the lady she was born to be.

“This is the most popular place to shop in London,” he told her. He took her hand and linked it with his elbow. “We need to buy you some new clothes, shoes, and accessories, especially for the ball.”

She frowned. “I do not have any funds for such things.”

“You are my wife, Isabel, perhaps in name only, but my wife, nonetheless.”

“Yes, but we didn’t marry out of affection,” she whispered. “We married for practical reasons, out of duty to queen and country, and I practically forced you to marry me.” She shook her head. “It would not be right for me to expect you to buy me expensive gifts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are my wife. I have plenty of money—”

“But—”

He held up a hand to stop her. “But you need a new wardrobe, and it is my duty to provide that for you. And my pleasure to purchase it. Besides, it would reflect badly on my name if I allowed you to go about London dressed in rags.”

She was quiet a moment before releasing a breath and nodding. “I suppose I do need something more acceptable for the ball, though that red gown you gave me is so lovely. Most definitely the prettiest dress I’ve ever owned.”

“Precisely.” They walked in silence until they reached the modiste’s shop. The gilded sign hanging above the door read Madame Angelique.

He tried to ignore how perfectly Isabel matched his stride or how well her hand fit into the crook of his elbow. “Madame Angelique is the best modiste in Town,” he told her. “She is the one who made the dress you wore last night.”

Isabel’s eyes brightened. “She does lovely work.”

He placed his hand on the door then paused before opening it. “The notice should have been in the Times this morning.”

“Notice?”

“Of our union. You are now Lady Ellis.” He opened the door, and a tiny gold bell above their heads tinkled as they stepped inside.

“Good morning, good morning,” a voice, thick with a French accent, called from farther inside. A petite woman burst through the mounds of fabric on display. “How may I help you?”

“Madame Angelique, I contacted you about my new bride. I am Viscount Ellis, this is my wife, Isabel.”

She clapped her hands together and smiled. “Ah yes, the scarlet dress that I sent over. How did it fit?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she came forward and pulled Isabel from Jason’s side. She circled Isabel, taking in her form. “Ah yes, it would have been a nearly perfect fit.”

“We need more,” Jason said.

Madame Angelique’s eyes lit up. “What did you have in mind?”

“She needs everything. She is new to London. Gowns of all manners, a riding habit, perhaps two, underthings, slippers, everything.”