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All in all, it had been just about the most perfect day she had ever had.
She sighed as she bit into some toast in the breakfast room, and watched Isaac slide several envelopes onto the table beside her plate with keen disinterest.
“Should I take Miss Adelaide’s post upstairs to her, miss?” Isaac asked with a bow.
“She is taking breakfast in bed today. Given that she is to remain in bed, I shall take them up to her later, Isaac, thank you,” Ursula replied.
She dropped her toast back onto her plate and picked up the envelopes. Her stomach dropped when she read her father’s familiar scrawl staring back at her. At first she didn’t want to open it. She didn’t want anything to dampen her joy from yesterday, but she had already ignored his previous letters. To continue to do so would push him to do something drastic; like accept the offer he had received for her.
The thought of being forced into marriage to anyone other than Trenton was simply horrifying; especially after what she had shared with him yesterday.
Using her butter knife, she tore open the envelope and slid out the single sheet of parchment. Her hand trembled as she opened it and read the contents.
Ursula,
You have failed to respond to my previous requests that you inform me of your intentions. I therefore demand that you return to Yorkshire this instant. I have endeavoured to accept the offer I have received for you. Your presence is required in Yorkshire to discuss arrangements for your forthcoming nuptials.
Your father,
Jeremiah Proctor.
Ursula dropped the summons onto the table as though it was about to reach up and strike her. She stared down at it in disgust and tried to decide what to do. In that moment, she almost hated her father for his ridiculous dictates, but struggled to find a way to get it through to him that he wasn’t going to force her into marriage.
Determined not to allow anything to ruin her relationship to Trenton, she ignored the remainder of her breakfast and hurried into the sitting room. The hasty note she scribbled had several crossings out due to the raw fury that raged through her, but she didn’t care. Her father could think, and do, what he liked. She wasn’t going to be summoned back to Yorkshire like some recalcitrant child. He had no business accepting an offer for her hand. She wasn’t a mare at the horse market and wasn’t going to be sold off to anyone.
When she was finished, she quickly tucked the letter into an envelope, addressed it, and rang for Isaac.
“See that this is sent off immediately, please,” she replied crisply. “No! Wait!” she gasped and stared at the envelope thoughtfully for several moments. “No, I shall take it myself. Is there a maid available who can come with me to post this? I should quite like a stroll this morning, but would prefer Adelaide to remain in bed.”
“Of course miss, I shall send for Molly right away,” Isaac reported with a bow.
With nothing else to do except wait for the arrival of the maid, Ursula turned her attention to the second letter in the pile. Before she got a chance to open it, the maid arrived.
With one last glare at the remaining post, she snatched up the letter to her father and preceded the maid out of the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ursula walked down the street with her back ram-rod straight and her shoulders squared in militant defiance. It was only when a young nanny ushered a worried little boy out of her path that she became aware of the way people were skirting around her and staring at her warily.
She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to slow her walk and relax. It took effort but, when she did, she began to savour the warmth of the sunshine on her face, and the freedom of being outdoors for once. She hadn’t realised before just how liberating it was to be able to walk where she wanted. Given Adelaide still wasn’t well enough to participate in her regular morning walk, Ursula had the day free to do as she wished, and she thoroughly intended to enjoy her newfound freedom as much as possible.
“It’s a wonderful day, is it not, Molly?” Ursula called over her shoulder once her anger had faded.
“Yes, miss,” the maid dutifully mumbled.
“You do realise that you shouldn’t converse with your maid while you are walking, don’t you?” Brampton suddenly murmured into her ear.
Ursula shivered at the warm brush of his breath against her ear, but it was more with alarm than sensual awareness. She glared at him. “Oh? Why not? She is a person, isn’t she?”
After the other day, she felt strangely averse to the overly familiar way Brampton felt able to approach her. It was far too possessive than was polite for relative strangers, and something she intended to put a stop to as soon as possible.
“It just isn’t done,” Brampton countered. “However, given you are not entirely familiar with London’s eccentricities just yet, I am sure you will be forgiven.”
Ursula didn’t deign to reply.
“I haven’t seen you out and about recently,” Brampton continued, undeterred by her lack of inclination to pass the time of day with him. “Have you not been well, or have you been avoiding me?”
She was painfully aware of the curious looks they were attracting, but was more worried about what Trenton would think than committing any social faux pas.
