His Lady's Crescendo

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The ballroom hummed with the symphony of lively music and the animated chatter of guests within the Montrose household. This was all too familiar to Isabelle. She scanned the huge ballroom, searching for her dearest friend, Lady Charlotte.

"Anne, has she arrived yet?" Isabelle signaled to her personal maid, who approached gracefully from the entrance.

"Yes, my lady. Her carriage just arrived."

"Wonderful!" Isabelle exclaimed with genuine delight. "I'll wait for her at the entrance."

With purposeful steps, Isabelle gracefully navigated through the sea of guests, pausing momentarily to exchange pleasantries with those deemed significant. It was a skill ingrained in her since childhood—flattery, the art of making people feel important and liked, conversational etiquette, and understanding one's position in society. She disliked it, but it was a necessary part of her upbringing.

Her steps were swift as she ventured towards the entrance, spotting Charlotte making her way toward her. Isabelle couldn't contain her joy and engulfed Charlotte in a tight hug.

"Isabelle, I can't breathe," Charlotte protested, laughter bubbling beneath her words.

Isabelle giggled, releasing her friend. "I missed you so much."

As they navigated through the crowd, Isabelle's excitement continued. "How was your trip to France? My letter couldn't convey all the thoughts I had in my head, or all the stories I had to share. There just wasn't enough space."

"One thing at a time," Charlotte said, accustomed to Isabelle's antics.

"You're right! Let's head to the drawing room. I have so much to tell you."

With Isabelle leading the way, their hands clasped together, as they weaved through the crowd toward the drawing room.

Charlotte was Isabelle's first friend. They had bonded at one of Charlotte's tea parties. Kind yet capable of blunt honesty, Charlotte possessed an authenticity and lack of pretense that Isabelle admired. As they settled into the comfort of the drawing room, Isabelle couldn't help but feel a sense of ease wash over her in Charlotte's presence.

"I wanted you to be my sister-in-law," Isabelle confessed, her voice tinged with a hint of wistfulness.

Charlotte scoffed, her lips curving into a playful smile, "You are well aware that your brother and I share nothing in common."

A soft smile tugged at Isabelle's lips as she nodded in agreement. "I know, but still, I would have wanted you to become my family," she admitted, her gaze warm with affection.

"We are as close as family already," Charlotte reassured her, reaching out to squeeze Isabelle's hand gently.

Their conversation drifted to lighter topics as Isabelle eagerly came up to date with everything that happened since they last saw.

"Ah, how was Paris? You still haven't told me yet," Isabelle prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Charlotte's face lit up with excitement as she launched into a vivid recounting of her trip. "Paris was amazing," she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. "The art, the culture, the music– it was all so enchanting. I could have stayed there forever."

Isabelle couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Charlotte staying in Paris forever. "You are not engaged and to be married, are you? I don't want to part with you, especially not to a Frenchman," she confessed, her tone laced with a hint of playful apprehension.

Charlotte's laughter rang out melodiously, dispelling any lingering tension in the air. "If I was, I would have told you, Isabelle," she assured her, her words infused with sincerity.

Relieved by Charlotte's response, Isabelle leaned back against the cushions, a contented smile gracing her features. "Well, I'm glad to have you back, safe and sound," she said warmly.

"What I will tell you was how meddlesome my aunt was," she began, her voice tinged with frustration. "It's like my mother had told her to help me find a husband."

Isabelle's eyebrows furrowed in concern as she listened to Charlotte's tale. "Not even one gentleman piqued my interest," Charlotte continued, her tone laced with disappointment. "Surely I am doomed to marry an ordinary man."

A sympathetic frown creased Isabelle's brow as she reached out to place a comforting hand on Charlotte's arm. "Don't lose hope, Charlotte," she said softly. "The right man will come along when you least expect it. One that will excite your very being. Until then, you have me by your side.''

With a grateful smile, Charlotte leaned into Isabelle's touch, "What are you playing today?" she continued.

"It is a musical composition called 'Springfield.' It's to honor my brother. I never thought I'd see him get married. My mother has been planning for so long to clip his wings. She has indeed succeeded."

"I find that hard to believe but I do not think it is as easy as you say. To clip his wings," Charlotte countered, a hint of skepticism coloring her tone.

"Well at least Miss Amelia seems kind, at least kinder than Eloise" she shuddered, thinking of her sister-in-law.

"Mr. James will be here; it's been almost two years since I last saw him," Isabelle said, her eyes lighting up at the mention of James. "I'm playing this piece for him too—I hope he likes it," she added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Charlotte reached out, gently patting Isabelle's hair in a comforting gesture. "You sound beautiful when you play the piano. I know he'll like it," she reassured her friend, her voice filled with confidence.

"Your hair has grown longer since the last time I saw it," Charlotte observed, her gaze drifting to Isabelle's hair.

"I had not even noticed," Isabelle replied, instinctively touching her hair. She remembered one of her tantrums from two years ago when she impulsively cut her hair. Her mother was beyond upset, and she was banned from going out that summer. Unbeknownst to her, her hair had grown longer.

"Well, we better head out now, before we become the subject of petty gossip." Charlotte suggested, cutting off Isabelle's thoughts.

Isabelle scoffed, "Hardly, we are not that interesting."

"Madam, you have a performance and a man to entice, right?" Charlotte said teasingly, while Isabelle blushed.

"If you put it that way. My lady shall we?" She mock-curtsied and took Charlotte's hands as they strolled back to the ballroom.

The ballroom was full at this point, and Lady Charlotte had long since departed to greet guests. For now, all of Eldoria had to know that the heiress was back in Eldoria for the season, they would flock to her, hopeful that she would eventually pick a man who would inherit the count's estate and title.

Isabelle understood all too well that this season could mark her last as a single woman. Her brothers' marriages had only strengthened the Marquis family, and now all the men who didn't look at her after two years ago were vying for her attention as if she had any say in her marriage.

If she had a choice, she would have chosen Mr. James Harrington, the third son of a Viscount. Despite his family's modest means, he possessed qualities that resonated deeply with Isabelle—charm, intellect, and kindness.

Her mother would faint just at the thought of marrying a man who could neither give her wealth nor title in Eldoria. Yet all Isabelle could do was pine for him, even though he had never seen her as anything more than a little sister.

It had been two years since she had last seen him. She had sent letters, and each response colder than the last. As Isabelle smoothed her gown—a beautiful gown of sapphire blue silk embroidered with delicate silver thread—she couldn't help but hope that today, he would finally see her as a woman worthy of his attention.

As her fingers trailed over the fabric, she dared to envision a scenario where he would notice her, truly see her for who she had become. Maybe then, amidst the swirl of music and laughter, he would finally take notice, and her heart would find solace in his gaze.