I had been found.
Everything was going according to plan. I was to teach Harod's niece the ropes of this coquetry and he would give me the necessary connections to get out of Paris. He had never told me that he would be inviting over Edmund's cousin as a future suitor of Isabel.
Of all the people in the world, why him?
It was true that he was dashing. Charming. Rich. A duke. He is everything a woman asks for, and then some.
His first impression, although he was only fifteen at the time, was that he wished to find someone that would permit him to have a good time. He did not want the girls who giggled behind their fans and parasols at the sight of him. Rather, he found more interest in the maid who cleaned his mansion, who stole away whenever she could to read in the library.
As a young girl myself, back then, Gregory had fascinated me. Only a year older than myself, he possessed this content quality within him, wanting whatever was not expected of him and society. When a group of girls had came to perform during a dinner party and one girl accidentally sang the wrong song, he had clapped the most for her… even getting up and congratulating her.
Dear Isabel was so lucky for a man like him.
Gregory was far different than Edmund. He would pretend to sleep at his cousin's somniferous talk, wrinkling his nose in distaste when his cousin joined in with the tête-à-tête of finances. In Gregory, I found the kind of fellow I desired to find. A man who would keep me entertained and alive for the rest of my life.
But I was stuck with the king of insipidness instead…
It was true that Isabel had grown beautiful over the past few months. Even without my "prepping" her in the morning, she looked well enough to still have head turns. The depletion of her bangs had opened up her face, showing more of her brow and forehead. This brightened up her face, and kept her hair from shadowing her eyes. Her freckles gave her a touch of character that was so lacking in women of present society, and her small frame failed to admonish the true strength she possessed.
When Gregory had stood up from where we sat to see what took Harod and Isabel, I knew all would be lost. One look at Isabel clad in one of her gypsy dresses, her hair down, and her face bright with noncompliance to Harod, and I knew the effect she would have on Gregory. I did not need to look at his expression to realize that Isabel was exactly the kind of girl that he had been searching for all his life.
"Mi amour," Jacques grinned to himself, reaching for my hand and planting a kiss on my palm. "Never in my life have I come to meet a more beautiful woman. You are indeed a spectacular specimen. Exactly what every man desires."
Every man but Gregory…
"It is getting quite late," I stood up from where we sat at the café, not taking note the fact the sun had yet to set. "I should get back now."
"The time of day never stopped you before, mademoiselle." Jacques stood, reaching for me and planting a rough kiss upon my lips. "Where is the vixen I had met yesterday? Surely she has not already lost her fire?"
"You are all the same!" I frowned as I slapped him, tossing back my head and walking away, my hands, in fists, held at my side.
My fast walking soon slowed down as my anger diminished. Why was I mad at Jacques again? Why was I ever mad at any man? The answer was so simple…
…they were not Gregory.
"You are Isabel's friend?" a man dressed in more rags than clothing approached me, his eyes awaiting my answer.
"Oui," I nodded, taking note of his handsome features and analyzing if he was worth my time of day. I did not wish to waste my time on the same kind of men.
"I am…" he drifted off, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning. "…my name is not important. Isabel knows me. I am the writer."
"The writer?"
"Yes. Isabel and me associated a few months ago…" he sighed. "Seven months, three weeks, and one day to be exact. I need to see her. I…there is so much I need to tell her. So much that needs to be said."
The writer! Interesting…
"Oh Monsieur, you have not heard the good news?" I bit my tough, feeling shame claim me when I made up my mind to continue with my plan. "Isabel… she is… why… she's engaged.'
"Engaged?" he raised his eyebrows, obviously bemused at such an idea.
"Oui," I nodded, thinking fast. "To the Duke Ambler. A decent fellow, if I must say. I believe them to be quite close. Intimate."
"Engaged…"
He breathed the word, taking it in, and I thought he would break down and cry when he lowered his head. However, I was proven wrong when he looked up, completely deadpan, and smiled.
"I thank you, Mademoiselle."
"Is there anything you wish me to tell Mademoiselle Isabel, soon-to-be Duchess Ambler?"
"Nothing imperative."
"Monsieur," I stepped towards his retreating figure, grabbing his arm and silently cursing me for what I was soon to do. "You look awful. Completely dreadful. Is there not anything I can do for you?"
"I am quite fine, Mademoiselle."
"Please, let me get you a drink." I flashed a smile, wanting more than ever to be beaten for the injury I would soon do to Isabel. "I cannot take no for an answer. You look tired. Exhausted. Completely worked out. Come, let me help you relax a bit more."