“I understand,” she began slowly, “that your marriage to the late Lord Wilton was… a practical arrangement?”
Lady Wilton did not appear startled by the question. Her gaze turned contemplative. “Yes, it was. A marriage of convenience, arranged by our families. There was no courtship to speak of. We barely knew each other.”
“But it changed over time?”
Lady Wilton’s expression softened. “Yes. Respect came first. Then affection. And eventually, something far deeper. When he passed, I found myself quite lost. I could not imagine my life without him by the end.”
“I think that’s rather beautiful,” Theodosia murmured.
“You will have your own love story one day,” Lady Wilton encouraged. “I’ve no doubt of it.”
Theodosia’s fingers tightened slightly around the teacup. “I often wonder… what I would have to give up to be married.”
Lady Wilton considered her thoughtfully. “Perhaps you are looking at it the wrong way. What if, instead, you asked yourself what you might gain?”
“I wish it were that simple.”
“Sometimes,” Lady Wilton said, setting her cup down, “it can be. Two good people, committed to one another, can create something wonderful together. But both must bring sincerity to the table.”
Theodosia’s voice lowered. “If I were to marry, my husband would almost certainly insist on managing my estate. And I… I could not abide that.”
Lady Wilton nodded with understanding. “Then the right man would not ask it of you. He would recognize that managing your estate brings you joy, and he would wish for you to keep doing so.”
Theodosia gave a soft laugh, more wistful than amused. “And where might I find such a man?”
A knowing smile touched Lady Wilton’s lips. “He may be closer than you think.”
The butler appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat discreetly. “Pardon the interruption, my lady. Mr. Pritchett has come to call on Miss Theodosia Smith. He requests a few moments of her time.”
Lady Wilton lifted a single brow. “And who, precisely, is Mr. Pritchett?”
Olivia set her cup down and leaned forward with interest. “He proposed to Dosia before she came to London. She refused him.”
Lady Wilton turned to Theodosia and asked, “And what would you like to do, my dear?”
Theodosia glanced towards the open doorway, her features composed, though her stomach tightened. “I suppose there’s no harm in allowing him a few minutes.”
“As you wish,” Lady Wilton said, giving a slight nod to the butler. “Show Mr. Pritchett in.”
The butler bowed and disappeared. A few moments later, the parlor door opened again to admit Mr. Pritchett, who had perspiration gleaming at his temples. He clutched a handkerchief in one gloved hand and offered a shallow bow upon entering.
“Forgive me,” he said with a sheepish smile, dabbing at his brow. “It is rather warm out this afternoon.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Theodosia replied, rising from her chair. Her tone was cordial but she didn’t wish to encourage the man. She had refused his offer of marriage for a myriad of reasons. She gestured to an armchair across from hers. “Please, do sit down, Mr. Pritchett.”
“You’re looking well, Miss Theodosia,” he said, his gaze lingering on her face with unmistakable admiration. “Quite well, indeed.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
An awkward silence hovered for a breath too long before Lady Wilton leaned subtly towards her daughter and murmured, “Dear, we have a guest. I am certain he would appreciate a refreshment.”
Olivia gracefully reached for the teapot. “Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr. Pritchett?” she asked sweetly, though her smile did not quite reach her eyes.
He waved a hand. “Most kind of you, Lady Olivia, but I fear I must decline. The very thought of tepid tea on such a warm day turns my stomach.”
Knowing what was expected of her, Theodosia gestured between their guest and Lady Wilton. “Mr. Pritchett, allow me to introduce you to Lady Wilton.”
Mr. Pritchett scrambled to his feet and gave a stiff, awkward bow in the older lady’s direction. “My lady. A true honor.”
