It was plain that their mother was pinning all of their hopes on Gillian. Lavinia was too blunt and headstrong to secure a desirable match – if the scandal sheets were to be believed – and besides, at nearly three and twenty, she was too old.
So, if either of the girls were to secure a rich man and save her family, it was going to have to be Gillian. Sweet, beautiful Gillian, whose hair was a much more respectable shade of honey-gold beside Lavinia’s vibrant red, with clear blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face, as opposed to her older sister’s boring hazel ones. Gillian was kind, biddable, good at the pianoforte, and generally keen to please.
Indeed, she was the one with great prospects before her. Assuming, of course, they could find a way to introduce her to those prospects.
Lord Brennon glanced thoughtfully at his youngest child. It was the manner in which he would appraise a particularly promising gentleman, noting her commendable attributes, her exquisite beauty, and the manner in which she would captivate a prospective purchaser.
It turned Lavinia’s stomach to see her father looking at Gillian like that.
Abruptly, she got up.
“I am not particularly hungry,” she announced. “I shall go and check on Stepper in the stables. Let me know what you decide.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and hurried away.
***
“Have you calmed down a little?”
Lavinia, standing in Stepper’s stable with a horse brush in each hand, glanced over her shoulder at her sister.
“Who said I was not calm?”
Gillian rolled her eyes. Standing in the entranceway to the stables, the light from outside silhouetted her figure, making her look like a Greek goddess. She was determinedly out of place in a stable.
“I am not a fool, Lavvy. We’re going, by the way. We shall be departing; I must inform you. We are bound for Bath, as the Dowager Duchess has graciously extended her invitation for us all to sojourn at her estate, and you are, of course, included in this.”
“How lucky I seem to be,” Lavinia muttered, brushing Stepper’s already glossy coat.
She hoped Gillian would take the hint, but no. After a moment’s pause, she heard the crunch of footsteps on old straw and glanced over to see Gillian picking her way towards her.
“Something has upset you, sister. Tell me what it is.”
Lavinia closed her eyes. “I don’t like the idea of you being sold like a prize mare.”
Gillian sighed. “That is simply the way the world is. They don’t call the Season amarriage martfor nothing, you know. Besides, I would like very much to get married.”
Lavinia paused, glancing at her sister. “Do you really?”
“Of course I do. Ladies do want to get married, don’t they?”
She snorted. “Not I.”
“Oh, no, I forgot thatyouare far too serious and special toengage in matrimony.”
“Do not be unkind.”
Gillian paused, nibbling her lower lip. “I didn’t mean to be unkind. I just… it never seemed as though you cared about marriage.”
“I do not,” Lavinia retorted, continuing to brush Stepper. “Who would want to attach themselves to some fool of a gentleman forever, on the shortest of acquaintances, only to avoid the so-called embarrassment of becoming a spinster? No, thank you. My life is not a display for gentlemen to gawk at and decide whether they wish to marry me or not. I am entirely happy with who I am and the life I lead now. Many women do not have loving parents as we do, and I intend to count my blessings.”
Gillian sighed. “If that is how you feel, Lavvy, I shan’t contradict you. But I desire to enter into matrimony. I yearn for my own family and to be blessed with children. There is no impropriety in such aspirations, is there?
“I suppose not.”
“How gracious of you. I came here just to… to check that you are not going to ruin anything for me at Rosewood House. Could you please come out from there, Lavinia, so we can talk properly?”
Lavinia flinched at that. She could feel her sister’s eyes boring into her. Carefully, she set down the horse brushes, gave Stepper one last pat, and emerged from the stall. Stepper’s large, liquid brown eyes followed her, mildly curious.
