Page 3 of The Redemption of the Shrew

“I’m not worrying,” Gloriana lied. “He deserves to be dead.”

“That bad, is it?”

“But I love him, and now I’ll never, ever love another man.”

“Come now, Miss Glow. You’re upset, that’s all. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.” Elspeth did all the lovely things a good maid, a good friend, did for one—comforted, offered handkerchiefs and warm milk laced with brandy, and listened.

“I know I sound like a hysterical fool,” Gloriana said. “I know there are plenty of eligible men out there. But the cards are stacked against me because of my scandalous family.”

“A gentleman who truly loves you won’t give a button for scandals—unless,” she added darkly, “it’s you making them, Miss Glow.”

No one used her nickname nowadays but Elspeth. No one, she thought, truly cared about her as dear Elspeth did.

Gloriana stood, wiping away the last of her tears. “I have no reason to make a scandal anymore. As for love, we Warrens don’t even believe it exists.” She’d imagined, for the few short weeks she’d known Philippe, that she might be the exception.

Elspeth gathered up all the soiled handkerchiefs and tossed them in the laundry basket in the corner. “Whether or not you believe in love, it still exists.”

Fine, but not for me. “For another thing, I’m ugly when I’m n-naked.” Her voice broke. Drat, she was crying again. How could she not? Philippe had looked at her with such revulsion. Such disgust.

Elspeth stared, her voice and expression incredulous. “What? Don’t be silly. You’re beautiful—dressed and undressed.”

Gloriana didn’t consider herself more than passably pretty—although she did get compliments on her unruly auburn hair—but until now, she’d been rather proud of her naked curves. She twisted the fabric of her wrapper in trembling hands. “Then why did he reject me?”

“Because he’s a gentleman of principle who’s not ready to marry,” Elspeth said severely. “I hope to God your poor mother doesn’t hear about this.”

“Weatherby won’t tell on me.” She sighed wearily and slumped into the chair again. “Mama would have died happy. He’s handsome and eligible—a marquis.”

“A French one with revolutionary ideals,” Elspeth muttered. “Your mother wouldn’t have liked that one bit.”

No, but by the time Mama found out about Philippe’s views on liberty, equality, and fraternity, they would have already been married.

“And he’s poor,” Elspeth added.

“I have plenty of money of my own.” Gloriana hiccupped on a sob. “I’ve heard that men are incapable of resisting an unclothed woman—but he resisted me.”

“And you should honor him for it.” Elspeth passed her another handkerchief. “This is the last clean one. We’ll have to use your old petticoats next.”

She had to stop crying now. “If you had seen the disgust on his face, you would understand.”

The maid rolled her eyes. “It was dark, Miss Glow. You’re imagining things.”

No, she’d seen his expression clearly in the moonlight. Perhaps she should be grateful for the full moon. At least she knew for sure what she’d witnessed. “I don’t honor him at all, and I wish I were finished with him for good.”

“Sounds to me like you are.” Elspeth shifted the hot brick she was rewarming over the coals. “Give it a little time, and he will be nothing but a memory.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t forget Philippe. I made a vow to love him forever.”

“Tsk,” the maid said, unimpressed. “I’m sure God will forgive you if you change your mind.”

“A sacred vow,” Gloriana said. “On my Book of Hours.”

That silenced Elspeth, who was religious in a more commonplace way, attending church and saying her prayers at bedtime. She didn’t approve of Gloriana’s attachment to the book, although she never said so. In a godless family like the Warrens, any religion was better than none.

As a child, Gloriana had fallen in love with a beautiful old Book of Hours, one of the Warren family treasures. It had provided her with comfort through all the vicissitudes of growing up—her parents’ shouted quarrels, her father’s drunkenness, the death of her beloved nurse, the more recent scandals. She owed the book eternal gratitude. She couldn’t make a vow on it and then change her mind. “You don’t understand.”

“No,” Elspeth said, “I’m glad to say I don’t.” She poured warm milk from the saucepan into a cup.

Gloriana took the milk and sipped. “I was so happy,” she explained. “I’d fallen in love, which is something we Warrens never do. I loved Philippe, and he loved me, or at least I thought he did. He said so, and naturally I believed him! I was so thankful, I swore upon the Book of Hours that I would love him forever and ever.”