Could Izzy hatch a plot to uncover her dashing gentleman rogue at the ball?
BY H. JOHNSON-MACK
Set in the 1800s
I SEE the Diamond Dart is up to his tricks again.” Lady Amelia Wentworth heaved a long-suffering sigh and looked up from her writing table to where her daughter was ensconced in the window seat, news-sheet spread across her lap.
“Really, Izzy! Must you read that nonsense? It is all invented to sell papers.”
Miss Isabel smiled impishly at her pretty mother.
“Fictional or not, it’s fascinating. Diamond Dart apparently spirited away Lady Bewley’s pink diamond during her last card party.”
Amelia sniffed.
“Lady Bewley’s jewels are mostly paste. No doubt she is taking advantage of the tale to claim on insurance.”
“Perhaps. But someone must have inspired these stories. I wonder if he’ll try his luck at our ball?”
Rising, Amelia smoothed down her skirts.
“If you spent less time poring over stories and more on your appearance, I would be excited about the ball. As it is . . .”
She left the sentence hanging, prompting a laugh from Izzy.
“No amount of creams or crushed strawberries can improve this face.” Izzy twirled a stubbornly straight lock of hair round a finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll be perfectly happy being your companion.”
Amelia replied in what passed for her as a raised voice.
“You have so much to give, my love. I won’t have you buried away whilst I wither into old age, with no romance, no family of your own.”
“Peace, Mama!” Izzy begged. “I will try my best to be a shade closer to pretty tomorrow night, and emulate your charming manners more.”
Amelia clasped her hands to her chest.
“We shall trim your pink satin gown with those spangled feathers to make it shine! And dress your hair à la Rome. That’s sure to impress Sir Oliver.”
Izzy wrinkled her nose.
“I doubt anything as frivolous as fashion would affect that man.”
“Oh, love.” Amelia sighed. “There is much more to life than the adventures these novels write of, and a dozen interpretations of a hero.”
“Indeed,” Izzy agreed, “and when I find mine, I’ll marry him, I promise!”
A little later, Izzy was relaxing in one of her favourite places – mounted on her gorgeous grey mare on a ride in Hyde Park.
Matthew, her loyal groom, stepped along in her shadow, fussing over the horse.
Apprehension held Izzy’s hands a little stiffer on the reins.
