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“I think it’s a fair question, considering I caught you in a passionate embrace more than once.”

“It was just a dalliance.” Richard took another sip. This time, he was able to hold it down.

Isabel grimaced. “First of all, that is a terrible thing to say about any woman, much less about a woman I truly think you are in love with. She is a kind, caring, and wonderful human being who did nothing but brighten our days at the house party. Even if you didn’t love her, how could you have treated her this way?”

Richard stood sharply. “That is none of your business, Isabel. This is how it works. Gentlemen do not marry actresses.”

Isabel visibly flinched from his words, and he closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper. But more than that, he hadn’t meant those ugly words. His heart ached from the sound of them, and his head ached from the mere thought.

“Why not?” Isabel asked quietly.

“You know why not.” Richard sat back down. “People shall talk. Actresses are all but synonymous with harlots now.” And as much as it pained Richard to say this, he had to. If not for Isabel’s sake then for his own. To remind himself why he couldn’t have Jo. Certainly, some actresses avoided the image of courtesans, and some even married respectably. But not to nobility. “The ton will avoid any association with us and when we have children… It won’t be pleasant.” He ended with a shake of his head. The ton didn’t forgive such misconduct.

Isabel studied him silently for a few moments. “When Sam was compromised, you told her that she needn’t marry a man she didn’t love. That you would take care of it all. You told her we could weather the ruin as long as she was happy. She married him nonetheless, but only because she loved him. And when he hurt her—albeit unintentionally—you were ready to weather the scandal again in order to keep her safe.”

Richard shook his head. “That’s different.”

“When I stumbled into scandal quite literally, you told me to do whatever I wanted. Even though you lost a bride to scandal because of it! Did you forget? Because I didn’t.”

“Isabel—”

“No.” Isabel held up a hand. “Let me finish, please. If you think that you can weather any scandal for us but we can’t do the same for you, you are wrong. Sam and I, we’ve been able to find love no matter the circumstances. Your children, when they grow up, will do the same. Who cares what other people think?”

Richard scoffed. “When you stumbled into a scandal, do you remember the vicious talk? Do you remember how people averted their noses and retracted their invitations? Do not tell me public opinion doesn’t matter when you willingly married a man you actively disliked in order to avoid that fate.”

Isabel pursed her lips. “You have powerful friends. You have a family who will support you as long as you’re happy. I wasn’t in love with another man when I married Rhys. I had nothing to lose. But you do.”

Richard looked down at his hands and Isabel stood. “I shall continue planning the wedding. However… I shall not start addressing invitations just yet. I shall be waiting for you to approve the date.” She paused until he raised his head to hers. “And the bride’s name.”

Chapter 17

Ordinarily, the theater stage was the only place where Jo could relax, forget about her everyday life, and just play. It was a place where Jo could set aside all her troubles and just live a different life, tapping into the heart of her characters.

She felt safe on the stage. Free.

Except for today.

A few things contributed to her unease.

Firstly, Selena came in late to the rehearsal looking quite sickly. She was pale, weak, and with continuous bouts of nausea. And as if worrying for her friend’s health wasn’t enough, Mick was constantly watching Selena under hooded eyes, acting strange and quite frightening. Had he done something to her?

Was he the reason for her poor health?

She had asked Selena, and she just shook it off, but as the day progressed, even though Selena’s well-being improved, Jo’s worries didn’t subside.

Secondly, when the rehearsal had come to an end, the theater manager, Mr. Hart, announced that he was looking for fresh plays and new ideas to renew life in his theater.

And this could have been good news. Jo had actually perked up, rushed to her dressing room for her scripts, and brought them to him proudly. Yes, he’d rebuffed them before, but she was more experienced now, and she was a respected actress.

Only Mr. Hart, the elderly, rounded man, had laughed, patted her on her head, and said that women were not good playwrights and she should stick to her strengths and act.

Rather his actual words were: go play. And in a remarkably patronizing tone.

This wasn’t the end of her terrible day, however. By the time Jo had finished her conversation with the manager, Selena had already left for home so she couldn’t even talk to her about her worries.

She reached her dressing room in a rotten mood and low spirits, and that, of course, was the exact moment Mick appeared before her.

Could this day get any worse?