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“Oof,” the Dowager said, clutching at her slim waistline and turning so that she could inspect her trim new features in the mirror. “What do you think, Lady Pearl?”
“You don’t want to know,” Aunt Amelia retorted, and that made a sharp laugh once more burst from Leticia’s lips.
“What?” the Dowager asked, turning at sharp angles, still eyeing her figure in the looking glass. “Do you think it’s too much?”
“Too much with an extra heaping dose of superfluous, ladled on top.” Aunt Amelia shot Leticia a wink, and the two shared a giggle together.
“Fine,” the Dowager sighed dramatically. “Let’s relax the stays a bit.”
“Yes,” Aunt Amelia said casually, “it wouldn’t do for the Mother of the Groom to pass out during the fun and games this afternoon.”
“Nor should she upstage the bride-to-be,” Leticia added under her breath. But when she looked up, she saw identical intrigued expressions on the faces of the Dowager and her aunt, so she knew that she’d spoken her thoughts just a little too loudly.
“Absolutely not,” the Dowager said, running a hand once more, rather wistfully, down her trim mid-section. “You’ll see when it’s your turn to wed, Lady Leticia. All brides wish to be the center-of-attention on their wedding day.”
“But it’s not Miss Loery’s wedding day today,” Leticia pointed out then she cringed.
I must learn to control myself. Not every thought that pops to mind needs to be shared with the whole room.
In the looking glass, the Dowager arched her slim black eyebrow carefully. “While it’s not Miss Loery’s wedding day, she is still the bride-to-be, so we must do everything we can to accommodate her and make her feel special this weekend.”
“I am not sure she even needs it. She was already the Diamond of the Season.” This time, after sharing this utterance, Leticia turned away from the two women.
“Yes,” the Dowager said, now holding still while Aunt Amelia began undoing the top cords on the corset. “We were all very pleased when Richard made a match with the Diamond, but don’t worry, Lady Leticia. You are a great beauty yourself, and soon, you’ll also find your husband.”
Leticia’s breath hitched in her throat as though she’d been the one cinched into the corset just now. Her vision swam slightly, and she felt suffocated by the very thought of marriage. “I thank you for your kind words, Your Grace, but I’d sooner walk on glass than marry one of the men of theton.”
The Dowager gasped, completely scandalized by such words, but Aunt Amelia tipped her head to the side and shot Leticia a look of sympathy on the reflective surface. “Don’t mind her,” Aunt Amelia said patiently, her nimble fingers quickly loosening the cords. “She just hasn’t found her man yet. When she does, she’ll sing a different tune.”
“Not likely,” Leticia snorted, again trying to be quiet, but failing as both ladies were staring right at her.
“Oh, but this wedding will be such a wonderful opportunity for you,” the Dowager cooed, still eyeing Leticia in the mirror. “So many of Richard’s friends will be here, and many of them are eligible bachelors.”
“I know his friends,” Leticia said with a dissatisfied smack of her lips. “Even if I hadn’t grown up alongside Richard and Harry, I’ve spent the last four Seasons dancing with them around ballrooms and going on promenades with them in the park. And I’ll tell you this much: not one of them could possibly make me happy.”
The Dowager clucked her tongue in a mildly reproachful way. “Dear girl, you shouldn’t say such things. These men try to put their best foot forward, and I think it’s uncharitable not to at least entertain the notion that one of them could someday give you a steady and happy life.”
“But I don’t want a steady life,” Leticia cried, stepping forward, so she could now look directly at both her aunt and the Dowager without the aid of the mirror. “I want to be free to travel the world and see its charms. Why must men be permitted to have lives full of frivolity and adventure while we women are forced to stay at home and—” She stopped and bit her lip to stop herself from saying what had been in her mind.
And wear corsets that make even having the most mundane conversations a challenge?
Dropping her eyes toward the thick, maroon and creamy white-colored carpet, Leticia thought of all the things she wanted from her life. And marriage—even though it might provide her a sense of safety and security—was not one of them.
“Our spirited girl,” Aunt Amelia said, reaching out and running her fingers over the bluebells that hung interwoven throughout Leticia’s complicated hairstyle. “Someday, you’ll meet a man who makes you want to slow down and appreciate the simpler things in life.”
“Yes,” the Dowager agreed, “look at your friend, Mrs. Hoffingbrooke. She made a fine match, with the very respectable, Mr. Hoffingbrooke, and I do believe they are living quite blissfully as a married couple.”
Leticia made a face as though she had just tasted something sour. “Poor Eliza married old Mr. Hoffingbrooke because, after her third Season, her parents demanded it. And now, she must spend the rest of her days with the old miser—” Upon getting a warning glance from her aunt, Leticia pulled back on her speech, stopping in the middle of her thought. It broke her heart to think of Eliza, her friend who had entered the marriage mart at her side just a few years ago, and the fate she was forced to suffer.
“Well,” the Dowager huffed. “I cannot decide if you are just being obstinate today, Lady Leticia, or if you really do have a bee in your bonnet.”
“I apologize, Your Grace,” Leticia said, bobbing her head respectfully. “I shall endeavor to make myself more agreeable…or at the very least, keep my opinions to myself for the rest of the weekend.”
Both the Dowager and Aunt Amelia cast looks of compassion her way then, and Leticia did her best to smile back wanly. Then, as she perched on the corner of the chaise lounge, and Aunt Amelia began helping the Dowager into her gown, the ladies started discussing the gentlemen who were all invited to the wedding festivities. “We simply must introduce him to Lady Leticia—”
No…no more—
Stealthily, she rose and slid toward the doorway. Mrs. Hubbard appeared at just that moment, carrying a handful of flowers she would presumably be placing in the Dowager’s hair.
