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This was now a matter of honor. Isabella rose gracefully. Placing the tips of her fingers on his arm, she could feel the warmth of his body through the layers of his immaculate black evening coat, almost as if she were touching his skin. Yet again, she found she was more aware of this man than any other she had ever met. And from the merest touch!
Lord Amburley lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “There is no need to go through with this if you have changed your mind, Miss Winstanley. Indeed, I pray you have.”
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She settled back in her seat once more, trying to focus her attention on the Yorkshire scenery. It was no use. She could not stop worrying about what had happened. She had always taken such care not to be seen in her ‘poor relation’ guise by anyone from her own station in life—it was the only way of being sure she could keep her philanthropy a secret—and now she had been caught out. Admittedly, the gentleman in question had been a complete stranger, but that could not guarantee her anonymity. If the gentleman came to London for the Season, he was bound to meet her somewhere.
And Isabella would have to be there. Flight was impossible. For she had agreed to chaperon pretty, portionless Sophia for this one London Season so that the child might have a chance of making a good match. Such a promise could not be broken. If they encountered the unknown in London, Isabella would just have to brazen it out, relying on the fact that her usual elegant appearance was a world away from the part she was playing today.
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