“I know I shouldn’t be talking of such things with ladies,” he said apologetically. “Or, at least that’s what m’father said, but you and your cousins seem to be as horse-mad as Lady Adina and Mr. Santiago. That tells me all I need to know.”
Isabel let the footman take her plate and set another before her. This went on for what felt like several hours. At one point, she fought a yawn threatening to surface and said a silent prayer for the dinner to be over. Then, miraculously, the last dish—dessert—was brought out. Isabel stared at the scoop of sorbet in a cup with berries and a dab of cream. It looked absolutely delicious, but she couldn’t eat another bite.
Lady Adina leaned over to her grandson, seated on her left, and the two conversed in hushed tones. When dessert was done, the counte
