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“Are you quite ready to be a wife and a mother?”
“I think I am,” she whispered. “I hardly know. I’m still so afraid that he won’t actually propose.”
“He looked positively smitten when he was here.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
“When would you hope to wed, assuming he does make you an offer?”
“I suppose as soon as the banns are read,” she said. “Three or four weeks after he asks.”
“That will be so surreal, to see you and Johanna wed in just a few weeks from each other.”
“I thought you’d be the first,” she whispered. “You were always so much more outgoing, outspoken, than the rest of us.”
“Maybe that’s why,” Lydia smiled wryly. “Mother always tells us to be polite and mild tempered. Perhaps such outbursts do not cultivate much favor with suitors.”
“You just need the right man.”
“I thought it would be the duke.”
“You have to put him out of your mind,” Trinity said. “Maybe mother was right, about you needing to retire to the country, for some time.”
She shook her head, one last time.
“I may need time alone, but not banished away to the country like a ruined woman.”
“That’s not what she meant.”
“That is how it would feel.”
Trinity yawned and quickly apologized. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Lydia said, squeezing her hand back. “Go back to bed. I will be fine.”
