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“It is lovely, indeed,” Andrew said, not looking up from his soup.
“Thank you,” Lady Viola gushed. “Mama has had a blue one, a pink one, and a yellow made for me just like it. Oh, and I am going to buy a purple one with feathers on the side and . . .” Andrew’s eyes glazed over. What brainless prattle! He feared he would go mad if he continued listening to her mindless droning about her dresses. How could the men of thetonever be truly interested in such featherbrained women?
The following courses were no less painful to him. He managed to work in a little business conversation with Lord Kinswood and avoid talking directly to his daughter, but that promptly ceased just before dessert was served, when the earl blatantly laid his cards on the table.
“Our Viola is seeking to marry by the end of this Season,” he said pointedly to Andrew. “Lady Worthingwood tells us that you are looking to do the same.”
“Does she, indeed?” Andrew hedged, struggling to suppress his annoyance. “Well, as to that, I have spoken with Mother on the subject of marriage in the past, as is natural, but I do not consider myself under great pressure to wed at this time. Love isn’t something to be rushed, after all.”
At that, Lady Viola giggled like a schoolgirl. He heard the murmurs of approval from Lady Viola’s parents, just as he could feel the daggers his mother’s eyes sent him. He didn’t care. If she was foolish enough to go telling people he was looking to get leg-shackled, she couldn’t complain if he threw a few obstacles in her way. Not only did he not want to get married, but he knew he certainly did not want to marry Lady Viola, daughter of an earl or not. He simply could not stomach the thought of spending his life with someone as empty-headed as her. No matter what his mother said to whom.
Chapter Two
“Oh, I can hardly wait to make my debut next year,” Sybil gushed as the carriage took the Whitworth women and their lady’s maids to Cresingdale Manor. Benji snoozed fitfully in Sally’s arms, worn out from the excitement of traveling in the carriage.
Rowena had been dreading returning to London, and she hated the thought of attending the Season. But as the carriage drew closer to the manor, she felt a tinge of excitement.
It had been almost two years since she had seen her eldest sister, Lady Nancy Cresswall. Nancy had lost her beloved husband, Colin, the Earl of Cresswall, two years prior to a sudden illness. The family had stayed for a few months to help Nancy through her mourning period, but straitened finances had prevented them from visiting her regularly. Rowena could hardly wait to see the dowager countess. Her sister was the only happy thing London still held for her.
As Sybil prattled on about her excitement about her debut, Rowena realized that, if she didn’t find a husband this year, Sybil would likely have to wait for her chance to debut. It was typically the responsibility of fathers to fund their daughters’ debutante balls.
However, given her family’s dire financial position, it would have fallen to Sybil’s brother-in-law. Now, the earl’s untimely death had removed that option. That meant the responsibility was now Rowena’s, and hers alone.
She tried to swallow the apprehension she felt as the carriage came to a stop in front of Cresingdale Manor. The pressure on her was immense, but she could not allow herself to give into it. She never wanted her younger sister to see how distressed she was to have to make such a sacrifice. And she was determined not to ruin the first chance she’d had to spend with her older sister in such a long time.
Roger, the butler, opened the front door of the manor just as the footmen helped the women from the carriage. As they approached the grand, red-brick mansion, he bowed deeply.
“Welcome to Cresingdale Manor, ladies,” he said, ushering them inside warmly.
The women entered, and Rowena gave Roger a friendly smile. She had only met the tall, balding man a few times, but he had always been kind to her during her earlier stay at the house.
“It is good to see you again, Roger,” she said.
The butler bowed again, and she thought she saw him blush.
“Her ladyship is waiting in the upstairs drawing room,” he said. “Please, follow me.”
The women and their maids complied, cooing over the mansion. It looked much as it had the last time they had visited, with the walls lined with various paintings, and the floors covered with richly patterned rugs. But there were differences. New paintings had appeared on the walls, including a new portrait of the late earl in the great hall. And the curtains, though the same shade of maroon, looked new and fresh. Rowena wondered if redecorating had been Nancy’s way of coping with the loss of her husband.
When the women reached the upstairs drawing room, Nancy was waiting in the doorway. Rowena noticed that, though her sister was just a few years older than her, her dark brown hair was starting to show streaks of gray. Rowena’s heart squeezed as she, her mother, and Sybil embraced the dowager countess.
“Oh, my girls,” Nancy said, kissing each one of them on the cheek. “How I have missed you all. Please, come and join me for tea.”
The women filed in, gasping at the new décor in the drawing room. It had once been a simple but elegant brown and red scheme. Now, it was filled with light colored tapestries and furniture, with beige wallpaper.
“It looks wonderful in here, dear,” the viscountess said, smiling warmly at her eldest daughter.
Rowena and Sybil nodded in agreement as Nancy smiled sadly.
“Thank you,” she said. “Colin and I had planned to make all these changes before he died. I wanted to carry out his wishes to honor him.”
Rowena grasped her eldest sister’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“He would love it, Sister,” she said.
Nancy gestured for the women to sit while her lady’s maid began serving the tea. Once that was done, the viscountess turned to her eldest daughter with concerned, loving eyes.
“How are you faring, darling?” she asked. “I do regret being unable to come and visit you more often.”
