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Chapter Eleven
“Remind me again how I went from husband-hunting to attending my first ball as an engaged lady within two days.” Jenny raised a pearl earring to her ear, unable to decide if she should wear them tonight. She was not looking forward to this evening.
“You sound like you are complaining,” Daphne drawled, tucking a lace handkerchief in her bag.
“I’m not complaining,” Jenny returned, deciding to wear the pearls. She’d previously had no one to impress at balls but now there was Nicholas, even though she’d lost count of how many times she’d told herself that she did not need to impress him.
“You do sound as though you are already regretting accepting the duke’s proposal.”
Jenny sighed. “I am trapped between anticipation and regret.”
Daphne placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned her away from the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“Nicholas has no expectations but I do. Idon’twant to have any expectations, yet I do.”
“As well you should. Expectations are part of a good marriage, Jenny.” Daphne, it would seem, did not understand Jenny’s qualms. But she did not blame her. She was yet to know the exact terms of the marriage. They had never kept things from each other and so Jenny was pricked by guilt for leaving her friend in the dark.
“I know how you feel about Nicholas,” she continued, “and after years of harboring such feelings for him, it is natural to have expectations. You are going to be his wife. I think you should celebrate.”
What good will celebrating do when I have no hope of my expectations ever being met?
Still, she managed a weak smile to show her friend that she appreciated her reassurance before turning to finish putting on her earrings. Through the mirror, she watched Daphne purse her lips in thought, then her eyes brightened.
“I am going to have a married friend!” She all but bounced on her feet. “You can tell me everything about married life that the married women are keeping hushed.”
Jenny’s cheeks warmed at the realization as to what her friend was referring. “Daph—”
“You can even mentor me. Show me what I should and should not do in—”
“Daphne! I can’t mentor you in anything.”
Daphne’s grin froze. “Is there some sort of married women code that you’re obligated to obey?”
Jenny shook her head and stood, picking up her beaded reticule from the vanity table. “No, that’s not it. My marriage is going to be one of mere convenience, and thus, I shall have nothing to tell you.”
There! The cat is out of the bag.
“Is that something you decided, Jenny?” Daphne’s forehead creased as her brows rose.
“Nicholas did,” Jenny answered, disliking the disappointed edge in her voice. “We marry, it secures the purpose for which we sought to marry, and we get out of each other’s way. I think that is convenient enough.”
Daphne surprised Jenny by bursting into laughter. “Do you truly believe that?” she asked after regaining enough composure to speak. “Nicholas is a man! You cannot expectnothingto happen while sharing a roof with an attractive young woman such as yourself.” She laughed again.
Jenny supposed there was some truth in her statement as she recalled the kiss they had shared on the night of his ball. She had felt the way his body had responded to her. Her cheeks began to grow warm again and she quickly pushed the thoughts away. “What do you know about men, Daphne?” The question was a murmur.
“More than you, apparently. I suppose I will have to continue to rely on what the maids tell me.”
Jenny gasped. “Do not tell me you ask the maids such questions.”
A mischievous smile touched her lips. “You would be surprised at what they are willing to divulge, especially with a little coin.”
Jenny shook her head. “You, my friend, would make a good politician if women were allowed.”
“Do you think society is doing us any service by keeping such intrinsic aspects of human existence and progression a secret until we are married?”
“It is to protect us,” Jenny said even though she knew that was not the case. Nicholas had proven that at the ball. Keeping such things hidden only worked to make young unmarried women curious, and the most foolish of them ended up getting themselves in trouble.
Mrs. Atwood bustled into the room in a flurry of cornflower blue silk. “Quickly now, ladies. We must leave lest we be late andnotfashionably.”
