"Yes. I do. I have no problem with giving some new things to Sarah. She's the trust-worthiest servant I've ever encountered."
Isabella ruffled Henrietta's fur with her free hand. It would take awhile for Charles to think of the animal having a different name. Henrietta rumbled out a loud purr.
Isabella glanced up. "I know you said you were giving Sarah some money for helping us, so I didn't know if you would still mind about the clothes."
Charles sighed. "Even though I have promised her extra money for her silence about you, I already know none of it will be used for her pleasure. It will all go to her parents."
"But why? You're giving it to her?"
He shrugged. "It's just how it is, Isabella. Sometimes children are expected to give their earnings to their families if they are poor."
She scooted closer, jostling Henrietta, who produced a harrumph. "But if you give her some of the dresses, those would be for her alone?"
"Yes."
Isabella smiled. Such beauty surely didn't exist on this earth. For the angels had given her a glorious glow that now emanated from her face. How fortunate for him something or someone made it possible for her to arrive at his home during his time. His heart gave a small lurch. Although, it seemed not meant to last, as Isabella was determined to return to her home. He squeezed her hand before releasing it.
Charles stood and gave a slight bow. "Lady Isabella, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"
She peered up at him with raised eyebrows. "Dance?"
He gestured behind him, trying to suppress a grin. "Surely you hear the music, my lady?" Holding his hand to his ear in a dramatic posture, his eyes peered heavenward.
She set Henrietta on the floor. Standing as well, she executed a fairly good curtsy. "Certainly, your grace." Isabella held out her hands and he took her in his arms.
****
"All right, Isabella, it's time for us to agree on a story to tell the ton. It must be convincing, yet I would rather not have too much detail. But not too little detail. In addition, it might be prudent for you to only speak when spoken to and, because of your American accent, say as few words as possible."
Izzy raised her eyebrows. "Is that all, Charles? Why don't you have me perform a circus act while I'm at it?"
"I fail to see where it would be helpful."
"I'm being sarcastic." She smoothed the folds of her long skirt over the cushion on the couch.
"Ah, sarcasm. Such a delightful use of the English language."
Izzy crossed her arms. "So were you being sarcastic to me just now?"
Charles touched his fingers to his chest. "Would I do that to you, Lady Isabella?"
"Up until just now, I wouldn't have thought so. Now, I'm not so sure."
Charles grinned. "Be that as it may, what were we discussing? Oh yes, your conversation, or lack thereof, at the ball."
"Fine, I get it. Only speak when spoken to, as if I were a child, don't speak too much or too little, and don't draw too much attention to the fact that I'm from America."
"Good."
She held up her hand. "Wait a second. I'm proud of being an American. Why should I try to hide it?"
Charles frowned. "Because your President Madison decided it would be a good idea to enter into our war with France and cause trouble for England."
"I wouldn't call him my President Madison. It's not like we've ever met, you know."
"Still, people here in England are not any too fond of anything or anyone American right now."
She harrumphed. "But it has nothing to do with me."
"Isabella, they won't know that."
She huffed out a breath. "It doesn't seem fair."
"Would you like to explain to the ton you're from another century?"
The man has a point. "Well, no."
"Right, so we need to downplay your American background."
"How will we do that?"
"We need a story for the ton." His face colored an attractive shade of pink. "Isabella, I have been remiss."
"You have?"
"I've never taken the time to ask your surname."
She raised one eyebrow. "My what-name?"
"Your family name."
"Oh, you mean my last name. It's Hodgkin."
"Is it? That's a dignified English name. I know of several prominent physicians named Hodgkin."
"Yes, so do I. What I mean is, I know of them. I made it a point to research them. That's one reason I wanted to come to England, to feel a connection to my ancestors." She tilted her head. "By the way, I don't know the rest of your name. Care to share, your grace?"
Charles stood and executed an impressive bow. "My lady, I am Charles Hamilton Douglas Wade, the Fourth Duke of Bramblewood Green."
She leaned forward. "Wow, what a long name!"
Charles frowned. "Your name could cause a problem, however." He sat down next to her.
"Why? Don't tell me the ton has something against Hodgkins?"
"No. But remember when I first told my uncle I was taking you to the ball? You were hidden behind the curtain."
She nodded. "Oh, right. You used the name Russell. Do you think he'll remember that?"
"Probably. Unless…" The corners of his mouth lifted.
"What?" She scooted closer. "Tell me."