“If you wish, we may discover it together. I’ll bring my curricle, and we can take trips around the area.”
He should not do this to her. One minute he was praising her housekeeping skills and the next he acted as if he really intended to court her. “That sounds lovely.”
When they entered the drawing room, Mary glanced around. This was another of her favorite rooms, and she would miss it. An ache began in the area of her heart. He was always so considerate and easy to get along with, except he wouldn’t kiss her. If only she knew she and Mr. Featherton were meant to be together, she need not feel as if she were leaving her home.
After about a half hour, she called for tea. One cup later, the married couples excused themselves and made their way to their chambers.
Kit walked with her up the stairs. They stopped outside of her parlor, and he kissed her knuckles. “I’ll see you in the morning, my lady.”
“Good-night, sir.”
She entered her room and heaved a frustrated huff. If only he would have kissed her lips instead of her hand. If her friends were right and he liked her, then it followed that he would kiss her on the mouth. She would wager that her friends’ husbands had kissed them. Maybe not Huntley, but that was different. He and Caro had hardly known each other when they’d been forced to marry to protect her from a madman. Their story had been too much like a romance novel for comfort. Mary knew Kit was reserved, but why did he have to be so very proper? On the other hand, he had complimented her on her person to-day. She sighed. Falling in love was rather difficult.
A few moments later, Mathers helped Mary out of her gown and stays, combed her hair, then helped her don her nightgown. Too excited about the trip to sleep, she went into her parlor. A small stack of mail she’d not got around to earlier lay on her desk. On top was a letter from her brother. She popped off the seal, read it, and laughed. Typical of Barham not to have dated the thing.
Mary,
What the deuce is going on with you?
Shortly after I received your last missive regarding a trust—thank you for not crossing it, by the way—ViscountFeatherton contacted me regarding marriage settlements. I was never so nonplussed. He wants me to come to Town to discuss them. I’m trying to put him off, butareyou going to marry Featherton? I have nothing against the match. In fact, it would be a deuced good one. He’s almost as rich as the Golden Ball. I tried asking Grandmamma, but she’s as close as a clam and won’t tell me a thing. Practically patted me on the head and told me not to worry.
It’s the devil of a hard thing being the head of the family when I don’t have a clue what’s going on. Well, whatever it is, just don’t create a scandal. Haha, I know you won’t.
I’m to remind you that Osanna’s eldest will come out next year, though what that has to do with anything, I vow I don’t know.
Where are you? What do you want me to do about Featherton?
B.
Mary’s temples started to throb. If Barham knew how close she was to doing just that, her easygoing brother would have her in front of a clergyman. If she did create a scandal, because it would be her decision that caused it, her niece and her whole family would be affected. Was she being selfish in wanting to pick her own husband? Everyone else had made love matches. Why shouldn’t she be allowed to do the same? If only she were certain of her course, this would be so much easier.
She poured a glass of wine and stood gazing out the window. Finally the aching stopped, and a sort of peace settled over her.
The night-blooming nicotiana glowed softly. The small bits of quartz in the gravel reflected the moon’s beam as it traveled across the path. The rest of the garden, the one she’d rescued and renovated, was in shadows. This whole estate had been virtually hers for almost a year. Did she really wish to cast it away? Would she be better off marrying for safety and position? And children. Ever since her friends had arrived, the nursery was alive with laughter and affection. Their husbands were with the children as much as the ladies were. She wanted that for herself, and she also wanted a loving husband. Notjust someone who would give her children, but one who would help raise them. She wanted a man to gaze at her the way the others looked at their wives, not as if there were something wrong with her.
A light knock sounded on the door before it opened. Caro, dressed in a frothy turquoise wrapper, strolled in. “I saw the light and thought you’d be awake.”
Mary poured another glass of wine, handing it to her old friend. “It’s been an eventful few days. I’m trying to catch up with my correspondence. Come and sit.”
Her family’s and Caro’s family’s estates marched along each other, and, being of an age, they had become close. Even Caro’s flight to Venice had not lessened their friendship. Mary almost wished her friend was still abroad, so that she could flee to Venice as well. Yet that was selfish. Caro had found true love with Huntley, and Mary could not begrudge her friend that happiness. Not when she wanted it so badly for herself.
Caro curled up on the sofa, tucking her slippered feet under her. “Since our conversation yesterday and this morning, I’ve been studying you and Kit.”
Mary sat in the French cane-backed chair. Her heart started to quicken. Was this bad news? “And?”
“You seem to not understand one another.”
She shook her head, not understanding. “Could you explain more fully?”
Caro tilted her head to the side. “You are both so frightened of doing the wrong thing, that you do exactly that. Phoebe and Anna said they have never seen him so out of countenance. You do know he is famous for his address?”
Mary took another sip of wine. “Yes, but I do not understand what they mean.”
“That he cares enough not to want to place a wrong foot.” Caro straightened. “If a gentleman doesn’t feel anything for a lady, he does not change his behavior; but if he does, then he is unable to act as if she doesn’t matter. We have told you we think he’s in love, and yet you prickle up like a hedgehog around him.” She grinned. “Though I have to say, this evening you were nicer.”
Mary shoved a stray curl behind her ear. “But he does not do anything to indicate his feelings for me.”
“He might be afraid of being rejected. After all, he wants to marry for the right reasons as well as you do.”
