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Her courage was a thing to behold. Ladies of quality did not hie themselves off to bachelors’ lodgings in the middle of the night to decide their own futures and then merely inform their family they were to marry. Colin would try and browbeat her into a life she did not want. He would probably have her carted off to the country or some other nonsense. Sebastian would not allow his friend to abuse her gentle spirits. “If that is your wi
sh, please, by all means, speak with him.”
She gasped. “Truly?”
How much that question revealed. Before him stood a young lady much used to her will and desires being decided for her.
“Truly,” Sebastian murmured.
A radiant smile burst on her lips. “Thank you, Sebastian. Now I must go.”
He helped her into her coat, keenly aware that her delightful scent of lavender stole into his lungs. How he wanted to gather her close and kiss her again. For so long he had starved for a taste of her, had hungered to see her walking beside him, to dance with her. His mind still had not accepted that she would soon be his. A sense of strangeness had embraced him and was not of a mind to let him go. She seemed so different from him, so much softer and refined. Even the way in which she spoke, her accent was clipped, and her vowels drawn out. The hint of elusiveness fascinated him, and he wondered if he wanted her so much because she had seemed so unattainable.
“You will not regret your decision,” he said, vowing to treat her like the lady she was, always. He would need to govern his appetites once they wed and ensure the ugly side of his businesses never marred her in any way.
The very next morning, Fanny joined her brother and Darcy in the small breakfast room. The rains had finally halted, and the day promised to be filled with sunshine and hope. Perhaps she could coax Darcy to ride with her along Rotten Row in the afternoon. Though it was unlikely her friend would desire to go out when they would be the butt of sly glances and speculative whispers. There was also a strain around her friend’s mouth she did not like, it spoke of an unhappiness Fanny had never witnessed in her before. And she feared it had been caused by her blunder in demanding whether her brother had a mistress.
They ate cinnamon bread, scrambled eggs, kippers, and roasted ham in silence. Colin at times stared at his wife, and she ignored his presence as if he were an ant. They did not speak with Fanny, caught up in their silent battle. Polishing the last of her bread spread with raspberry jam, she leaned back in the well-padded chair. “I have some news.”
Her brother managed to wrest his gaze from his wife to her. “I hope it is good tidings.”
“I am afraid it will be disagreeable for you,” she said quietly.
That got Darcy’s attention, and she lowered her knife to stare at Fanny.
Darcy gave her an expectant look. “What news is this, Fanny?”
“I’m to be married.”
Her brother nodded approvingly. “I’m relieved you are reconciled to accepting Lord Worsley. He—”
“I’ll be marrying Viscount Shaw.”
Her brother slowly lowered his knife. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ve accepted his offer of marriage.”
“What could have possessed you? That damn bounder dared to approach you behind my back and—”
“I went to him…”
Fanny could not ever recall a time her brother appeared so astonished.
“Your conduct goes beyond the line of what may be tolerated, Fanny. To proposition the man?”
She delicately spread jam on a slice of toast. "You have been trying to decide my future when you had the privilege to do so for yourself. Though you were compromised with Darcy, you were already halfway in love with her. I do not wish to marry Lord Worsley. I've heard you say on more than one occasion that Sebastian Rutledge is a man of exceptional qualities."
He scowled in evident frustration. “For a businessman, but he is beneath you.”
Sadness pierced her. “Do you truly believe this?”
His closed expression spoke for him.
Her hand tightened on the handle of the knife. “Why?”
“He works,” her brother said furiously. "He has spat on his title and his position in society repeatedly since he inherited his title. He does not conduct himself like a gentleman, and that is because he was not raised as one. You marrying such a man cannot be better than marrying an earl. As a countess, you will be better placed—”
“Forgive me, Colin. I do not mean to interrupt. I believe even you have conferred with the viscount on investment matters. I daresay his acumen for business matters is something to be praised not vilified. It could be argued that any man who works to build his wealth and profession is superior to a man who inherited his fortune and hardly knows what it means to sweat for anything. I cannot perceive that somehow we are above him in any way.” She took a calming breath.
