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“The Marquess of Bainbridge sent a note,” Richard said, a little quieter.

“What? What does it say?”

“He rejects my suit. The bastard didn’t even have the guts to say it to my face. Coward.” There was a loud thump as if something had been thrown against the wall, or possibly Richard’s fist crashing onto his desk.

Isabel jumped.

Richard had just lost his bride. And it was all because of her. Isabel swallowed, turned, and quietly left the hall. She didn’t have the strength to look into her brothers’ eyes. She’d ruined everything.

Next year, everything will be better. But what about this year?

There was only one person who could fix everything. And if there was any way she could salvage the vestiges of their tattered reputations, she’d have to swallow her pride and beg him to do it.

* * *

Isabel stood on the doorstep of the loathsome Marquess of Vane’s house, cursing herself inwardly. She would have to scrounge up all her tact to have this dreadful conversation with the awful man. She took a deep breath for the third time and raised her hand to the knocker, only to freeze an inch from the door.

“Do you want me to do it, Miss?” her lady’s maid, Anthea, asked behind her.

“No, Anthea, I am quite capable of doing it myself,” Isabel said resolutely and then added in a barely audible whisper, “I think.”

She raised the knocker and let it fall, praying under her breath. Isabel was not certain what she was praying for. Patience, perhaps, to deal with the marquess and his enormous ego.

A thin, tall, graying old man opened the door and looked at Isabel down his long nose as if she were a bug he wanted to squash.

“Miss Isabel Lewis, for the Marquess of Vane,” she said.

The butler glanced around the street as if looking for someone. Then his gaze fell on Isabel’s maid, and he raised his brow. “I shall inquire whether his lordship is at home,” he said and closed the door in Isabel’s face.

Well, the butler was just as arrogant and rude as his master! Isabel dusted her skirt irritably. She was standing like a beggar or a wanton outside of a bachelor’s home. She doubted, however, that this trip would land her in a bigger scandal than the one she had already courted. Her brothers might scold her—would scold her—but she did not care. She was doing it for them.

The door opened a few moments later, and the butler stepped aside, letting her in.

“Thank you,” Isabel said with a tight smile.

She stepped into the hall and smoothed her skirts when loud footsteps—or rather a sound loud enough to qualify as the stomping of the bulls—descended from the stairs, echoing against the walls.

Isabel did not have time to look up before a huge, monstrous-looking animal tackled her to the floor. She squeaked before hitting the ground.

The animal sniffed her face and licked her nose.

Isabel didn’t know which emotion hit her first. Was it the surprise of being tackled, the horror of a huge animal crushing her, or the disgust at being licked by the foul-smelling fiend?

It definitely took her a moment to realize she was even in pain. Her back felt as if it was on needles, and her head gave a dull ache. Then the monstrous animal got distracted and ran off.

There were more screams and a high-pitched shout as it doubtless tried to tackle more people.

Isabel struggled to get up when the butler finally came to her aid. She dusted off her skirt and cradled her aching head in her hands, thinking that she’d have a rather ugly bump there in a moment.

“Miss? Are you hurt, Miss?” Her terrified maid rushed toward her.

Two or three footmen ran off in pursuit of the beast, leaving the door open after them.

Loud steps sounded from the staircase again, only this time they seemed human.

“Why in the bloody hell is the door open, Monroe?” the man growled, barely reaching the hall. “You know—” He halted in his tracks, his mouth slightly open, an unspoken syllable on his lips. He looked Isabel up and down with an unflattering gaze and sketched a shallow bow before turning to the butler. “Please, have Miss Lewis wait for me in the study. I need to chase after the bloody dog. And send a few footmen after him, too.”

“Yes, my lord. Footmen are already in pursuit.”