The Heiress Queen (Season Series Prequel)

Chapter 9

"Oh, damn," Isabelle muttered, watching as Cora dropped her gaze to her plate, fuming. Beside her, Violet had pressed her lips into a line.

"That is most certainly not how we thank people in Highcastle," Graham said, glancing down at her in amusement. Isabelle grimaced, too hungry and short-tempered to play along.

"Thank you, your Highness, for escorting me in, though I'm quite sure I can find my way on my own now," she managed through gritted teeth. Graham chuckled.

"Did you really think I'd let you get away so easily?" he asked, stopping in the middle of the room to face her. Isabelle realized with a sinking feeling that he'd chosen the exact spot that afforded each table a perfect view of the pair of them.

"I suppose this is where you call me a foolish little girl for hoping," she said, watching him warily. That devious grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

"Perhaps, though I'd much prefer to continue this conversation when your stomach isn't constantly interrupting us," he said, his eyes running down her figure again on their way to her growling belly.

"Or I could curtsey and thank you before we go our separate ways," Isabelle suggested, wishing that Graham would let her go so she could eat. Around them, servants were placing plate upon plate of food at each of the tables, the smell of cooked bacon and warm bread setting Isabelle's mouth to watering.

"As I said, you aren't getting such a favour from me for nothing. But I'm feeling generous this morning, so I'll release you...for now," Graham said, his eyes dancing as he leaned down to kiss Isabelle's hand in parting. "After all, even prize cows must eat. Have a wonderful day, Miss de Haviland."

Isabelle watched Graham's retreating back, anger simmering into an unpleasant mix with the hunger in her stomach. Growling anew, it was her stomach that propelled her towards Cora and Violet's table, brushing off the prince's favourite insult.

"Good morning," Isabelle smiled, casting a glance around the table as she took her seat. Violet was the only one to reply, her wide brown eyes darting between Cora and Isabelle.

Across the table, Cora continued her conversation with Henrietta Barclay, the pair of them thoroughly ignoring Isabelle. She had expected as much from bitter, competitive Cora, but that Henrietta was now shunning her meant that Graham's favour had just made Isabelle's life a little more difficult than she'd anticipated. It was no secret that Henrietta, the pretty redheaded daughter of the Duke of Shefford, had been the most titled debutante at court before Isabelle's arrival. Clearly Isabelle's proximity to the prince was doing her no favours, instead earning her spiteful glares whenever Henrietta happened to glance her way.

With a shrug, Isabelle reached for the array of breakfast foods before them. Her stomach growled even as she ate, employing every ounce of her willpower to stop herself from shovelling down her food like some sort of ruffian. She ate as quickly as she dared, however, aware of the queen's pale eyes on her.

Yes, Graham's favour would come at a cost indeed, she thought darkly.

"Goodness, it's as if you haven't eaten in weeks," Henrietta said, finally turning her attention to Isabelle. The redhead had pushed around a few slices of fruit on her plate, barely touching them.

"Since I arrived, to be exact," Isabelle said between mouthfuls. She fixed Henrietta with an icy glare to match the one that the redhead had fixed on her, holding it until the other girl looked away in annoyance.

"A barbaric appetite to match her barbaric origins," Cora put in. Isabelle didn't even bother to look at her, rolling her eyes as she speared a piece of sausage with her fork.