The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 22

Isabelle's world narrowed to the elegant, handwritten name on the yellowing page before her. Julia Andover, Countess of Tarlsburgh, was the exact same age as Leopold, five years older than Isabelle. Unlike the other entries on the tree before her, there was no entry about a marriage, nor did she have any siblings. Her tree was also far older than most, meaning her family was probably quite powerful thanks to their longstanding title.

"She's orphaned," Sam pointed out. Isabelle's eyes flicked up to the names of her parents, both of them featuring the same year of death, thirteen years prior.

"Bloody hell," Isabelle muttered, pushing the book away so she could bury her head in her hands.

Her world was crumbling around her. Everything she'd thought she'd known had changed. Who was Julia Andover? Who was she to Leopold? Why did Graham know about her? His story suddenly made too much sense, especially if this rotten Julia Andover had been orphaned and then subsequently sent to court to be raised according to her station. She was the same age as Leopold and if she'd been in Rhysalia, at the Germanian royal court, then he had probably gotten to know her...

Leopold's heart has belonged to the Countess of Tarlsburgh ever since they were children...

"I think that's enough books for one day," Sam said finally, patting Isabelle on the shoulder as his chair legs scraped against the floor. "Come along, time to get up."

"He wasn't lying," Isabelle said through her hands, gritting her teeth to keep the wail of frustration from escaping her lips.

"You don't know that," Sam said, his hand a reassuring weight on her shoulder. "For all we know, she's as homely as a boot and Prince Graham planted this idea to torment you. Frankly, I wouldn't consider that beyond him."

"Or she could be as beautiful as Cora and just as lovesick with Leopold as he might be with her," Isabelle said. Her shoulders shook as she inhaled and Sam sighed, settling back into his chair.

"You can't allow him inside your head so easily, Izzie," he said, pulling her hands from her face. "You're the most intelligent woman here, if you can't outwit him then we're all doomed."

"But Sam..." Isabelle started, her eyes welling with tears. She didn't know what to say. What if it hadn't been just another of Graham's taunts? What if there was really something brewing with this Julia Andover wench? What if she was the reason Leopold hadn't written to her?

Before the tears fell, Sam's big hands landed on her shoulders again, giving them a gentle shake.

"Easy, lass," he said. "You should never allow them to see you cry."

"You're not one of them," Isabelle said, blinking as a tear left a hot trail down her cheek.

"Thank the heavens for that," he said, reaching into his pocket to offer her a handkerchief. "But as I recall, we still have a ball tonight. I daresay a tear-stained face and red eyes would make poor accessories."

"What do you know of accessories," Isabelle asked, sniffling as she dabbed at her eyes. Sam chuckled.

"Enough to know that showing any form of weakness is exposing a chink in your armour," he said, helping Isabelle to stand. "If anything good comes of this, at least you're armed with knowledge now. Best to use it to your advantage rather than allow it to sit and rot in your head."

They left the book on the table, Julia Andover's name seared into Isabelle's mind.

~*~

Thanks to Sam's intervention, Isabelle's face was free of any tears and their unsightly aftermath for the ball that evening. She wore a turquoise dress embellished with gold embroidery and a neckline frothed with lace, arriving arm-in-arm with Violet. It was a change from her usual, rather plain attire, mostly because she'd taken Sam's words to heart.