Gwen shook her head, smiling a little to match that faint thawing of Olivia’s expression. “I think I was always going to end up here, after she decided to track me down.”

Olivia’s eyes gleamed again. “She does have that effect on people. My advice, if your mind is made up, is just . . . ride the whirlwind. Don’t try to fight it, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Gwen huffed a faint laugh, amused but unsurprised that Olivia had chosen the very same word Gwen had thought of when facing the sheer force of will that was Isobelle. Then Olivia was lifting the latch and pulling the door open.

Outside, the hall was a dreary dark gray, lit at intervals by the dull orange of torchlight, barely warmed by the worn maroon of the carpeting. Inside . . .

Inside was a riot of colors and textures and light. Fabrics everywhere, tapestries on the walls, mirrors, sunlight, ornaments on tables—an absolute explosion of luxury, stunning Gwen where she stood. Pinks and turquoises and golds, more color than she’d ever seen in one place. It was like Olivia had opened the door to an entirely different world. For a moment, she could scarcely breathe.

And then there was Isobelle’s face, shining and full of that excitement and enthusiasm that had to be seen to be believed. She bounced up to the doorway, throwing out her arms to take hold of Gwen’s unresisting hands and draw her inside.

“Oh, splendid!” she exclaimed, managing to sound delighted without allowing an ounce of surprise or relief to enter her voice. As if she’d never doubted, not for a single second, that Gwen would show. “You’re here.”

Chapter Ten
Nobody ever expects a lady to rappel off a balcony

Isobelle had only been half sure—at best—that Gwen was going to show up. Even now she couldn’t quite let go of the other girl’s hands, wanting to anchor her here, lest she float away like smoke on the breeze. But already the distress of last night—the whitening of his lordship’s knuckles, the sneers of the guards—was fading away into the background.

Isobelle decided to leave it all there. It was far less interesting than the girl before her.

“What is this place?” Gwen asked weakly, allowing herself to be drawn into the room.

“This?” Isobelle twisted around to get a better look at her surroundings. “This is my suite of rooms. Now, how is your horse? All settled?”

She’d been raised to ask about someone’s family as a matter of courtesy, and she could immediately see she’d won herself some credit with the girl from the village for thinking of him.

“Achilles is very well settled, and already snacking,” Gwen replied, but she was distracted. She pulled her hands away and drifted into the center of the room, leaving Isobelle flexing her fingers on empty space.