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Her eyes grew. “That? Plus, another three weeks? That is so far away.”
“I am sorry.”
Her cheeks puffed up. “I hope no one else gets married.”
“Do not curse us!” Hathor barged in.
“You especially!” Abena shot back and then tried to run. But Hathor grabbed her and held on to her tightly. “Let go!”
“I will not till you take it back.”
“I shall not!”
“You shall,” Hathor demanded and began to tickle her. Abena squealed, and her legs kicked up as she sought to escape. “Take it back!”
“No! Haha!”
“Take it back this very moment.”
“Ha!” Abena laughed.
“Is everything all right?” Silva questioned, looking inside with Devana beside her. One by one, they all seemed to gather, as if this were another drawing room.
But I said nothing and, instead, smiled as I thought of what my own family would or could possibly look like one day.
And the person I wished to see it with was Theodore.
I said I would not fight these feelings and was not, but Theodore clearly wished to fight his.
So, what could I do but make him stop doing that as well?
I would not allow him to push me away.
14
Verity
He was avoiding me.
I was sure of it.
Four times now over the last three days, I had come across Theodore, and each time he avoided my gaze or presence altogether. He did so on purpose, and I felt my temper slowly rising at the foolishness of it all.
At the foolishness of him! Part of me wished to ignore him in return but I could not manage, and instead found myself straining my neck each and every time we wandered outside in hopes of catching a glimpse of him.
I too had clearly become a bit foolish, but I would lay the blame at his feet.
“Verity, are you ready?” Hathor asked, adjusting her hat as she entered my room.
“I am, though I shall not compare with you in such an outfit,” I replied as I gathered my hat and gloves.
“That is altogether the point.” She grinned, turning for me to once again take in her fine burgundy dress trimmed in gold, with matching gloves, a feathered jeweled hat, and, of course, a coat. “Are you sure you wish to wear that?”
“This is already quite more than I normally wear for a simple ride in the park,” I said as I followed her out into the hall.
“It is not a modest ride. Everyone shall be there today.”
“How do you know?” And by everyone whom did she mean?
“It is the third Wednesday of the month,” she said as we reached the bottom of the stairs, as if that should mean something to me.
“You both look splendid, but I doubt you can ride to the park dressed that way,” her father said when we reached the door, where the marchioness was adjusting Abena’s dress.
“Ride?” His wife immediately looked up at him as if he were mad. “On horseback to the park?”
“Did you not request that the servants bring the horses?” he questioned. “Whatever for if they are not meant to ride?”
Hathor giggled. “Papa, they are for us to ride at the park. We shall take the carriages there first. If we were to ride there now, our dresses would be ruined, and everything would be for naught.”
“Will they not be ruined once we ride in the park anyway?” I questioned. I actually had thought we were riding to the park, as I had done so many times in the past.
“My thoughts exactly,” the marquess replied.
“If they ride slow and gracefully, that shall not be a problem until much later, after everyone has already looked upon them,” his wife explained, earning a proud nod from Hathor.
The marquess glanced down at Abena, placing his hand on her head. “Feel free to do whatever you like today.”
“Thank you, Papa!” Abena exclaimed as she exited through the doors.
“Charles!” his wife nearly screamed, and he merely laughed at her.
“Let her have her fun before she grows up and is forced into this ludicrous plotting,” he replied.
“Should she make a jester of herself today, I shall leave you to handle it.” The marchioness angrily pulled up her gloves. “Girls, let us go.”
“Are you regretting it yet, Papa?” Hathor asked him as she walked forward.
“Slightly, but I shall remain resolute. After all, how much trouble can Abena cause?” he said before chuckling. “You shall come to my aid?”
“And make an enemy of Mama? Never. Verity is much better suited.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Because Mama will not lose her temper with you,” she replied and stepped out. I followed, and though I knew she did not mean it as an affront, I could not help but take her words poorly.
Once more, she had painted me as the outcast. Her mama felt free to yell, lecture, or punish her and her sisters because they were her daughters. They were her family, and no matter what, that could not change. I, on the other hand, was not her child, and in her effort to take care of me, she treated me as if at any moment, given the slightest pressure, I would break.
