“You brought trunks, didn’t you?” I frowned, studying her gown, which bore evidence of carriage travel from the sheer number of wrinkles.
“Oh yes. Your servants said they would bring it shortly, but I must confess that my gowns will appear so out of date compared to your wardrobe.”
“And your maid?” I asked.
Fredericka ducked her head. “It appears I may be adventurous after all. I traveled alone by coach.”
Horror at my friend’s announcement rendered me speechless.
“I will share what I have,” I finally pronounced before ringing for tea. “I’m certain Aunt will love having another young woman to dress. But be warned, her taste in colors runs bland. All whites and frosted pinks.”
Freddy removed her hat and set it on the vanity, her gaze traveling over the four-poster bed and the furniture smelling of linseed oil.
“A lovely room. I do so love blue.” How wistful she sounded. “Did I tell you that Father has decided we must move to Bath in the fall?”
I motioned for her to sit across from me. “No, and I can’t imagine losing you again, now to Bath.”
“You will never lose me, Kitty. Tell me the truth. You didn’t answer my question regarding your marriage. Is Colonel Grenville misguided in assuming you will marry Mr. Sinclair?”
“Sebastian and I have an agreement.” Only when her expression sharpened did I realize my mistake in using his Christian name. It made our relationship sound so much more intimate than it really was.
My friend said nothing, but a frown appeared between her brows.
“You see, our grandfathers agreed to join our families—years ago because of some heroic action on the battlefield. Now you tell me—should someone force two grandchildren to marry because of some old deed years ago, no matter how noble?”
“Well, no...” she agreed slowly.
I exhaled. Freddy would understand my dilemma.
“Although it sounds rather romantic,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes. “Two children fated for each other. Now that is a plot for your romance books.”
I waved aside her ridiculous suggestion. “No one can tell Grandfather anything once his mind is made up. In fact, he tried to arrange an engagement dinner but Sebastian—er, Mr. Sinclair—persuaded him to leave such an announcement until the end of the season.”
“I see,” she answered as she folded her arms across her chest. “But you will have to pretend in order to keep your charade. This is not the dear friend I grew up with, the very girl who prized being forthright.”
Now it was my turn to blush. “What else would you have me do?”
“Tell your grandfather no.”
“No?”
“Yes. Stop engaging in these elaborate schemes to subvert him. You and I are both of the age where we should have some say in our lives.”
I sank back against my chair, shocked. How very much like Edward my friend sounded.
She smiled. “Oh, I know, I know. I told you a very different storymany months ago. I said I would marry Mr. Merriweather and that I would trust God.”
“You also mentioned you had no options,” I reminded her.
She nodded. “I have yet to determine my options. But I see now that in my eagerness to bring my parents some measure of peace, I might have resigned myself to a terrible marriage. I fear I mistook compliance for obedience and wisdom, as if yielding to circumstance alone fulfilled His will. But does it, Kitty? Are we called to obey men—or God?
“Mr. Merriweather could not handle a wife without enough coin to sweeten the deal,” she added. “Yet even in this, I see the hand of Providence. I can trust Him—not only in the doors He opens, but in those He closes as well.”
Could I trust God to chart my path? Was it wrong to give Him a nudge in the direction I wanted?
“I do hope you’ll make a match here,” I told her. “Surely there are more attractive men than sheep farmers who will catch your eye.”
She flushed again, and I sensed it had nothing to do with the heat from the fireplace.
