Snippet #1531070

Isobel finished brushing out her long dark hair and the silken strands now fell down her back in somewhat neater waves, her hair was wont to curl and even restraining it with hairpins did not work for long. It was a continued irritation to her mother who seemed to want her to be more like Ceclia Haversham whose hair always stayed perfectly in place. But the likelihood of that happening was slim in the extreme and Isobel had no intention of making it any more likely. Thinking of her mother unfortunately reminded her of the unpleasant conversation she had been forced to sit through when they had arrived home from the ball. Her father had wanted to retire for the evening but her mother was having none of it, she had marched her daughter into the library and told her in no uncertain terms to sit and not move until they had finished. Her father had reluctantly joined them and took up his usual position of leaning against the fireplace.

Her mother had preceded to lecture her on how her behaviour towards Lord Rowley was unacceptable and how for the good of the family she should be more amenable to the man's advances. Isobel had hotly refused stating point blank that she would never marry such a man and had listed Damien Roskin as an example of why he was more of a gentleman than Rowley. Her mother had reddened with anger and had been about to continue her tirade when Isobel's father had stepped in. He had paled slightly at the warmth in his daughters words when she spoke of Roskin. He had sat beside her and took his daughters hands in his own.
"Isobel, Mr Roskin is not a man you should want to associate with."
"Why not papa?" Isobel had asked in confusion, yes the man had attracted her and frightened her in equal measure but he had behaved as the perfect gentleman.
"I am surprised you have not heard already what with the rumours circulating about that man." Her mother had snapped.
"Rumours?" Isobel had asked.

Her father had then gone on to tell her all he knew of Mr Roskin and Isobel had paled as she listened and even now standing safe in her own bedchamber she felt cold. She was unsure on what to believe, was Damien really as bad as the rumours suggested? He had certainly frightened her but not due to him hurting or threatening her. Yet if the rumours were to be believed he was a danger to her. She moved to the window and stared out into the night her mind a confused jumble of thoughts.