The Secret Spouse

Isabella Rosewood sat on the floor of her apartment and cupped her chin, her pale brows

drawn together in thought. “Do you know what I really need, Sophia?”

Her friend snorted, folding clothes into a large moving box. “Sure I know. You

need to have your head examined if you still intend to go through with this ridiculous

idea.”

“No…What I really need is a knight in shining armor. A protector.”

Sophia shoved the box to one side and glared. “Oh, for crying out loud! Why don’t

you just wish for Perfect Match, a beautiful palace and a million dollars while you’re at it? It’s

just as realistic.” She threw up her hands in despair. “Listen to me talking about realism,

and to you of all people. A woman planning to marry a complete stranger wouldn’t

recognize reality if it bit her on the—”

“Yes?” Isabella questioned, amusement clear in her voice. “Bit me where?”

“Oh, forget it,” Sophia muttered. “Why do I bother?”

Isabella smiled, not in the least offended by her friend’s bluntness. “Because you

care. And in case you’ve forgotten, I know all about reality and being realistic. It hasn’t

worked for me, which is why I’m willing to give the alternative a try.”

“I know,” Sophia said, contritely. “But to marry a complete stranger—”

“My point exactly. Since I am going to marry a complete stranger, why not pick

one with all the qualities I need?”

“Because it’s crazy. It’s just asking for trouble.” Sophia’s gaze grew concerned.

“Please, don’t do this. There has to be another solution.”

“You know there isn’t,” Isabella said with calm finality. “I’ve lost my job, my

apartment and I’m out of money. This is the only option left. It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

Sophia frowned. “What do you mean you’re out of money?” she demanded. “What

happened to your savings?”

“I spent every last penny on my ticket to the gala. I had to. It was the only way to

find a husband by the end of the month.”

A long silence stretched between them. Isabella Rosewood knew she’d upset her friend, but

she had no choice. From the moment she’d found out about the enchanted gala, she’d

known it was the answer to her prayers. It had been a fluke that she’d seen the

advertisement at all—a newspaper left at the restaurant where she’d worked, a gust of

wind from an open doorway, pages of newsprint blowing to the floor and…And there it

was. A small, elegant ad that had caught her eye and offered a chance of a lifetime.

The enchanted gala, it had read. Find romance. Find your Perfect Match. Find

the woman of your dreams. The enchanted gala offers the opportunity for immediate

matrimony. Come to the gala single and leave happily wed. And it had given a phone

number, a number she’d called that very night. A ticket to the gala had been exorbitant,the application form detailed and thorough. But she’d apparently passed whatever

investigative process they required and been accepted as a guest to the gala.

Unable to resist, Isabella crossed to the scarred dining table at the far end of the

room and stared down at the thick gold-embossed envelope she’d placed on her best

remaining china plate. It had arrived earlier that day, hand-delivered by a liveried

messenger along with a card that read, “The Montagues wish you joy and success as

you embark on your search for matrimonial happiness.” Taking a deep breath, she

opened the envelope again, removing the white velvet pouch inside.

Reverently she ran a callused fingertip over the pouch, then slid the surprisingly

heavy gilt “ticket” from its nest. The metallic wafer caught the light from the overhead