“But perhaps you’re already acquainted with one of them?” Marcia observed, and Eleanor realized, to her horror, that she had been staring.
“I don’t believe so,” she muttered, throwing back her curls again.
Marcia sighed, reaching out to pull the curls forward over Eleanor’s shoulder.
“Do you really think you’ll never marry, Eleanor?”
“I… I can’t say that I’ve thought about it a great deal.”
“Well, you should.” Marcia replied. “Why do you think, Eleanor?”
To Eleanor’s shock, Marcia sounded almost annoyed. She glanced at her friend and saw an uncharacteristic line of tension between her brows. Marcia sighed, shaking her head.
“You can rail against the unfairness all you like, Eleanor, but the fact remains that the only thing for women to do in our society is to marry. And marry young, by the way. You and I are not considered in our bloom anymore, you know. Gentlemen of thirty and forty consider themselves entitled to marry fresh-faced seventeen-year-olds and think nothing of it. Women of five and twenty are consideredold maids. Spinsters. Do you want to be a spinster, Eleanor?”
Eleanor bit her lip. She’d known women who never married, naturally. One family they had known had five daughters, all of whom married, except for the youngest, who was kept home to take care of her parents. Miss Alice led a nice enough life, taking care of her elderly parents and making presents for her siblings and in-laws and nieces and nephews, and never seemed to want anything more.
That is, until her father died, and her mother shortly after. Miss Alice had nothing. Her inheritance had all been used up on her sisters’ dowries, and there was nothing left for her. The house and estate were entailed, so she had to leave at once. To the best of Eleanor’s knowledge, poor Miss Alice, with nothing to recommend herself and no useful skills, was passed between her married sisters and some of her older nephews and nieces in her later life, feeling awkward and out of place, and being constantly reminded of how much of a burden she was.
Eleanor shuddered. Even at such a young age, the unfairness had struck her forcibly.
People had laughed at Miss Alice, called her ridiculous. A wasted life, that was what they called it, as if she’d had the slightest say in it at all.
She swallowed. “I… I don’t think I do want to be a spinster. I just don’t want to be married.”
“Those are the two choices, I’m afraid,” Marcia said, sighing. She set down her cup and looped her arm through Eleanor’s. “Now, let’s go and talk to some people, shall we? I know a family with a few sons of marriageable age, all decent young men, and I’m fairly sure they’ll ask us to dance. Come, I’ll introduce you.”
Faced with little other choice, and already reeling from Miss Alice’s face and Lord Henry’s smug face across the room, Eleanor allowed herself to be towed away.
Chapter Seven
Another night of nonsense. Henry fought not to curl his lip, watching people circle around him, laughing and chattering about everything and nothing, fluttering fans at each other and drinking entirely too much. It was hard not to like brusque, confident Mrs Everett – occasionally called the Merry Widow behind her back – but Henry couldn’t say that he liked many other people here tonight.
“Oh, do cheer up,” Alexander murmured in his ear. “You might look down your nose at everybody else, but at leastthey’reenjoying themselves.”
That was a fair point, and besides, Henry didn’t much want to grouse away the night. It felt like a waste. So, he swigged down the flute of champagne he’d been given when he stepped inside, and strode off into the crowd, leaving his brother behind.
Alexander would find his way to the card-tables soon enough, Henry thought, with a pang of guilt.
He’d spotted Miss Eleanor Fairfax almost at once.
Her father was nowhere to be seen, and Henry was privately relieved, as he didn’t particularly want to discuss business at this hour of the evening. If he were honest with himself – and Henry was never anythingbutpainfully honest with himself – he would admit that a jolt had gone through him. Miss Fairfax looked exceptionally beautiful, in a frothy, pale blue delight of a dress that outshone every other lady’s gown here. In fact, Henry was a little confused as to why she wasn’t surrounded by admirers, considering how staggeringly beautiful she was.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, sniped a little voice at the back of his head, which he ignored. He considered talking to Miss Fairfax – there was an acquaintanceship there, after all – but she was arm in arm with a friend, and they were currently chatting with two fresh-faced young men, and he didn’t believe his presence would be appreciated.
And then, like a hero from a gilded age, Henry spotted Percy.
Lord Percy Fletcher was exactly the same age as Henry, but the two men could not be more different. Percy was a red-headed,freckle-faced optimist, whose pale skin had not fared well under the Spanish and Italian sun. He had a round face, a snub nose, and was attempting to grow what looked like a moustache. He liked everybody, and had never, in all their years of acquaintance, said anything unkind about another person.
Unless they truly deserved it, of course.
Percy spotted him across the room, and waved vigorously, causing punch to slop over the edges of his cup and splash over his previously white-and-gold waistcoat.
Henry suppressed a smile. Percy’s clumsiness was truly legendary. Perhaps he and Percy could catch up, enjoy a private chat, and reminisce on their shared Tour. After all, he…
The trail of Henry’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when three people stepped in front of him, causing him to stop short.
“Lord Henry!” fluted a lady in her forties, with what was obviously a false front of red hair, and marked spots of rouge on her cheeks. “What a lovely surprise! Isn’t it so, my dear Lord Redford? You do remember us, don’t you, Lord Henry?”
