Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the east salon, warming the room despite the winter chill outside. I sat with Elara and Clara, enjoying a pot of tea and freshly baked scones. After the commotion of Elara's unexpected arrival yesterday, it felt good to relax among friends.
"So," Clara said with a teasing smile, "you're truly surrounded by handsome men at all times, aren't you, Isabella?"
I nearly choked on my tea. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, there's the Duke, of course," Clara counted off on her fingers. "Then Alistair, who's quite distinguished for his age. Damian Ashworth appeared yesterday looking like he stepped out of a fashion plate. Not to mention all those noble gentlemen always hovering around you at events."
Elara laughed. "She's right. You've got quite the collection."
I felt my cheeks warming. "Don't be ridiculous. Alaric is the only one who matters."
