Surrender Becomes Her by Shirlee Busbee Page B

handsome woman rather than a pretty one. Tall and thin, with black hair, her features were almost mannish, her nose long, her chin pronounced and her eyes deep set under heavy dark brows and as she approached her fiftieth year not even age had softened her looks. In Isabel’s opinion, Agatha had always been a cold, unfeeling woman and her marriage to Sir James had changed nothing. There was a long history of discord between the two women: before marriage to Sir James, Agatha had been Isabel’s governess, and the longing to escape from Agatha’s rigid rules had been partially responsible for Isabel’s rash marriage to Hugh Manning.
    Returning to England as Hugh’s widow and taking her place with her son in Lord Manning’s household had saved Isabel from finding herself once more under Lady Agatha’s thumb. It had also prevented the inevitable open conflict between the two women. In the intervening time, Isabel had worked hard at making some sort of peace with the other woman and making certain Edmund knew his great-uncle and the house his mother had grown up in. Agatha and Isabel would never be fond of each other, but they had managed to form a polite relationship; but every now and then, Agatha’s claws still showed. Isabel could not help showing some of her own.
    Forcing a smile, Isabel glanced at her aunt and murmured, “Yes, we were very careful; one does so hate to be the object of gossip and innuendo. I’m certain you of all people understand.”
    Isabel’s reason for keeping the courtship quiet was remarkably similar to the one Agatha had given out when her sudden marriage to Sir James fifteen years ago had caused a nine days’ wonder in the neighborhood. Beyond a tightening of her lips, Agatha gave no other sign that the barb had found its mark.
    Aware of the strained relationship between the two women, Clara Appleton rushed in, saying brightly, “Oh, I just think it is so romantic!” She sent a warm glance toward Marcus. “Your mother, I know, will be delirious with delight once she learns of the engagement. If she’s said it once, she’s said a hundred times how happy she will be when you marry and set up your own nursery.”
    Marcus smiled at her. “And of course, we all know that I live to please my mother.”
    “Oh, la, don’t you take that tone with me,” Clara replied, shaking a teasing finger at him. “Your mother has told me often enough what a wonderful son you are.”
    “It’s a fine match, no doubt about it,” remarked Sir James, his pleasure obvious. Well into his seventies, with his merry blue eyes and chubby pink cheeks and only a few tufts of white hair circling his bald pate he had always reminded Isabel of an adorable little cherub. They made an odd couple: Sir James rotund, Agatha thin, and because of his shortstature, his nearly bald head barely bobbed above his wife’s shoulders. In fact to Isabel’s mind, Agatha towered over him like a black, thin-legged stork next to a round little partridge.
    Raising his glass high, Sir James said, “Another toast! May the pair of you have a long and happy life together.” He smiled warmly at Isabel. “Ah, my dear, your father would have been delighted at this happy turn of events. So everyone drink up: to Isabel and Marcus—long life and happiness.”
    “I’ll drink to that,” said Lord Manning, a broad grin on his face. In fact, Isabel didn’t think he, or Edmund for that matter, had stopped smiling since they’d learned of the engagement. She’d had no intention of ever marrying again, but now that fate had conspired against her, she was glad that her coming nuptials had given the people she loved joy.
    The toast having been duly drunk, Lord Manning set down his glass and asked, “When is the wedding to be? I presume sometime this summer?”
    “Yes,” agreed Marcus.
    “No,” blurted out Isabel.
    Suddenly the cynosure of every eye in the room, Isabel flushed and muttered, “We, uh, haven’t decided yet.” Throwing