ISABELLA

     As I walked down the grand steps leading to the ball, the squire's voice thundered through the hall, announcing my presence like an unwelcome gong. "Announcing, Lady Isabella Brouwer."

     I wished he'd found a more subtle way to introduce me. The whispers and titters from the ton, society's upper crust, did nothing to improve my confidence, which, like a sad-looking soufflé, had already collapsed in on itself. 

     I ventured one cautious step, then another, doing my best to ignore the sensation of being scrutinized by an assembly of judgemental eyes.

     My attire was far from noteworthy. All my best dresses had been sold to keep the landlord from banging down our door, and so I found myself swathed in a rather drab lilac dress with shoulder puffs that were less than inspiring and a plain bodice. 

     On an ordinary evening at a regular ball, no one would have given me a second glance. The squire would have made his announcement, people would have briefly looked up before returning to their inane chitchat, and life would have gone on. But this was no ordinary evening.

     News of my family's calamity had spread like wildfire, and I could feel the glares that questioned why I dared show my face in public. It was apparent that they no longer considered me and my family part of the ton.

     Not that they ever really fully did since they never forgave my genteel mother for marrying my working class father who was at the time a well-known trader of goods from different parts of the world.

     In my desperation for a friendly face, my eyes landed on Morgana, my childhood playmate and nemesis, who was wrapped in the arms of the man I had believed to be my one true love. "Isabella!" Morgana beckoned me with false warmth. "Come over!"

     I had no choice but to approach them. Fleeing the room would have been undignified. When I reached the couple, Morgana extended her fingers toward my face, wagging them like worms. I spotted the ring on her finger and felt a boulder of despair lodge itself in my throat.

     "We're engaged to be married next month. Can you believe it!" Morgana squealed, her eyes gleaming with malice.

     "No, I can't," I replied quietly, tears threatening to spill over. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I took her fingers in my palm, needing to feel the sharp cut of the diamond. A chill swept through me.

     "That's wonderful news," I choked out, my voice wavering. I couldn't bring myself to look at Lewis, but when I finally did, I saw that he was intently watching the dance line behind me, deliberately avoiding my gaze. 

     He then turned to look at me as though we hadn't shared the most intimate moments.

     "Many thanks for your well wishes," Lewis said with an icy detachment.

     That was the last straw. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some fresh air," I said, spinning away from the couple and gathering my dress around me. I made my way to the side door that led to the garden, with Aunt Lydia trailing behind.

     Once outside, Aunt Lydia inquired, "Isabella, are you alright?"

     "It's alright, Aunt Lydia. Please go back inside. I just need a moment," I said, struggling to hold back the tears that refused to come.

     She gave me a skeptical look but ultimately returned to the ball.

     I found a bench at the back of the garden and sat down, attempting to gather my thoughts. Gazing up at the moonlit sky, I was reminded of the night I met Lewis for the first time at a ball not unlike this one.

     I had seen him around before, at the park, at the market, and at a soiree hosted by a prominent Dutch family last summer. He was known as a dashing and brilliant scientist who had recently moved to Amsterdam with his step-brother Frankie Howard. 

     And when he came into the greenhouse while the rest of the ton frolicked at the ball, we hit it off immediately and spent the entire evening talking and dancing.

     He was charming, intelligent, and handsome. And when he kissed me that time at his lab, I thought I was in love.

     But now, sitting on the bench in the garden, I realized that it was all just an illusion. He didn't love me. He was engaged to Morgana and had only used me for his own pleasure. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

     Speak of the devil.

     Just then, Lewis appeared in the garden. When he spotted me, he started walking towards me.

     "Isabella, I..." he began, but I didn't let him finish. I stood from the bench  and slapped him hard in the face.

     "Was I just a tool for you?" I asked through my tears that only just started to make their debut. He was silent for a moment, still recovering from the smack.

     "Answer me, you heartless rogue," I screamed.

     After a long pause, he finally spoke. "Yes," he admitted softly. "But I..."

     I raised my hands to stop him mid-sentence. I didn't want to hear any more. He had just admitted that his feelings for me were a lie.

     "I would appreciate it if you pretended not to know me because I do not wish to know you," I said firmly. I moved past Lewis, leaving him stunned and unable to understand what had just happened.

     As I walked away, I could feel his gaze burning into me from behind. Thankfully, Aunt Lydia was ahead of me, and she took me by the arm, leading me away from the garden.

      As we left the elegant residence, Aunt Lydia turned back to look at Lewis, eyeing him warily with a deadly glare.