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reserved a day in her life. Well, at least not until after the disaster that was her elopement... But Mr. Appleton didn’t seem to know of that folly, nor the girl she’d been prior to said folly. Thank heavens.
    “I’d say Henrietta is reserved, too,” he remarked. “This is her what? Third season?”
    Isabelle murmured something he’d take as agreement. Honestly, she had no idea how long Miss Henrietta Hughes had been on the Marriage Mart. She’d never met more than a fraction of the people who were here tonight and had only heard of a quarter. Well, heard might not be the correct word. More like she’d read about them. In scandal sheets, to be exact. And only then when Mrs. Finch instructed her to read such claptrap to her. As it was, Isabelle would happily never look at that section of the newspaper ever again.
    Mr. Appleton chuckled and led her to the side of the room. Apparently the music had ended. She blushed and followed her escort’s lead.
    “You really are distracted tonight,” he mused.
    She bit her lip. Was it that obvious to him? It was quite obvious to her since she kept getting lost in her own thoughts. Just like she was doing now, dash it all. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then opened them again, refreshed. “What is it that you were saying about Miss Hughes?”
    He shrugged again. “Nothing. Just that I find that perhaps she’s reserved.”
    “ I don’t see why she’d have a reason to be, it’s not as if she’s haunted by a scandal,” Isabelle said before she could think better of it, her eyes flaring wide.
    Mr. Appleton eyed her curiously. “One wouldn’t think that a little scandal in one’s past would be enough to make a girl unmarriageable, would it?”
    Isabelle stared at him, her eyes searching his face. What did he know? Was he still talking about Miss Hughes or was he now talking about her? She opened her mouth to say something, but immediately closed it with a sharp snap when a voice came from behind her, sending shivers down her spine.
    “ No, I shouldn’t think so,” came the soft, quiet voice of none other than Sebastian, Lord Belgrave, her no-good former husband.
    ***
    Isabelle whirled around to face him, fire blazing in her green eyes.
    Sebastian offered her his hand; the opening strains of a waltz just starting. “May I?”
    She couldn’t very well refuse and they both knew it. She swallowed in a way that made the center of her slender neck move and then took his hand.
    He’d been watching her from across the room since she’d walked away from him without so much as a word of greeting. At first, he thought she might be as stunned to see him as he was to see her, but now that she’d had time to recover from her shock, he wanted to speak to her. She was his wife, after all, that made it his right to do so.
    “How have you been?” he asked after he had her in his arms and began leading her about the floor.
    Her fiery eyes scorched him. “Don’t.”
    “Don’t what?”
    “ Don’t pretend as if we are friends when you know as well as I do that we are not.”
    “ Hmm, and when did you become as stuffy as a matron with seventy-five years in her dish?”
    Belle didn’t answer, at least not with words. Her stiff body and piercing eyes said more than enough.
    He pulled her closer, delighting in the way she seemed to resist, but still complied. “I do hope this isn’t how you conducted yourself with your other dance partners or you’ll never find a husband.”
    “ No. It’s only your arms I long to get out of. I melt to jelly in any other’s embrace.”
    He almost chuckled at her words, and then actually did when her eyes grew large with what appeared to be horror that she’d actually spoken those words. “Do you no longer speak the first thing that comes into your mind, then?”
    “I’m a lady now, Belgrave,” she said in a tone he didn’t recognize. “I temporarily forgot my manners when you provoked me, but I assure you, that I shall