Book Two, Isobel’s story

Lately, I have started working on plotting and planning for the next book in the series which features Isobel, the younger of the 2nd set of twins. Odd that I’m doing the first book on the younger of the older twins and the 2nd on the younger of the younger twins…Heh. Of course, this is only the order in which I am writing them 🙂

Anyway, as I wrap up a scene from Book 1 I am doing a bit of work on Book 2. Tonight, I whipped up this little scenario which serves as both the hook and the meet. I have to be honest – I think this is really good. I hope you do as well.

Stepping into the crowded Fitz-Patrick ballroom, Lady Isobel Sellinger immediately noticed the conversation coming to a halt. She stood there, suspended in the eternal moment of humiliation, fighting the tears threatening to break free.

Unfortunately for Isobel, eternity only lasted about 20 seconds. And the room was once more awash in conversation, this time accompanied by pointed looks in her direction. Steeling her spine, she moved from the doorway to the side of her friend, Freddy, ignoring the whispers and the glares. She could not allow doubts to sway her from this mission – no doubts, no fears.

“You dare come here, Lady Isobel? And without a chaperone, I see,” hissed Freddy, grabbing her arm cruelly to drag her to the floor as a waltz started up.

“I had to come, Freddy. You know I had no other choice!” whispered Isobel, matching the anger of his accusation.

“That’s Lord Fredric to you, Lady Isobel. Let there be no informalities betwixt us.” Freddy was snarling, no longer the friend of yesterday. No, this stranger was no one she knew.

“Freddy – you can’t mean that,” she begged, once more fighting the tears.

And then, her world came to a crashing halt.

Lord Fredric gave her a pitying look before dropping her hands and stepping away from her. Eyes burning with the threat of tears, she stepped toward him.

“Please do not make more of a spectacle of yourself, Lady Isobel. It is unseemly,” he said, every inch the aristocrat.

“But Fre – I mean, Lord Fredric,” she cried.

“No, my lady. No more lies, no more denials,” was his response, slightly louder than polite.

“What? What are you talking about, Freddy?”

“No my lady. No, I will not stand idly by and allow you to pawn another man’s child off as mine. How dare you ask such a thing of me?” He asked, this time loud enough that his voice carried across the crowded ballroom, ensuring everyone was watching as he turned away from Lady Isobel and walked across the floor.

The weight of their stares became too much, and she crumpled inward. Barely able to breath, Lady Isobel made her way through the crowd, hunched over, face down to avoid the glee of their faces. Once outside, the dam broke and her tears finally fell. Finding the Sellinger coach, she did the only thing she knew to do.

“Take me to the station. I wish to go home.”

 

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