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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.
“Yes, he is the most charming young gentleman, perfect for Leticia—” And that was the last thing Leticia heard before she scooted past Mrs. Hubbard and fled.
CHAPTERTWO
Disgusting, isn’t it?
Languidly, as though all the bones in his body had become just one soggy mass, Richard swirled the claret round and round his glass. Several drops splashed over the rim, spilling onto the lush white carpet that ran throughout the library.
Oops…Mother won’t appreciate that.
He stood, a bit wobbly, and ran his boot over the wine, only forcing the droplets further into the fibers of the carpet, making matters much worse.
Well…that won’t do, either.
Richard paused and swiveled round the room, looking for something or someone that might remedy the situation, but as he was by himself and the library was devoid of any cleaning supplies, his options were limited.
Least I can do is finish off the drink.
Satisfied with his reasoning, he tipped back his head and drank of the dregs of the claret, feeling the tart taste of fermented grapes burst on his tongue and burn as they coursed down his throat. He pursed his lips then winced as the powerful potency overcame him. He gave a brief shudder, decidedly not relishing what others often called a sweet drink.
Every time Richard thought of how, following the festivities this weekend, he would have a lady, Miss Laura Loery, the stunningly beautiful daughter of the Viscount Loery, as his wife, he felt a sadness overgrow him.
Miss Loery is magnificent…but—
It was that moment of hesitation—that tendency Richard had when he was thinking of his future wife to give pause—that brought him to such a melancholic state. He knew she was lovely. Everyone told him as much. And while they had a substantial courtship, in which he came to know her character and was even fond of her, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe he was in love with her.
