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Grandmother shook her head and pursed her lips, then turned to my father. “Raynard.”
“Spencer,” my father said, “couldn’t you put that off until sometime later in the year?”
I was all too familiar with the conciliatory tone in my father’s voice. It was the one he used whenever he was caught between his mother and the rest of the family. I never questioned his love for any of us, but Grandmother was a force to be reckoned with.
“Unfortunately, I can’t,” I said truthfully. “I have a short hiatus from the West End show while the theater is being remodeled. If I want to put together a Broadway production, now is my only chance.”
“You cannot simply run off to America on a whim,” Grandmother said.
I knew better than to tell her it wasn’t a whim. To her, my work in the theater was nothing more than a hobby, similar to members of the royal family who played polo or did dressage. She saw the value of the arts—or at least claimed she did—but in her mind; it wasn’t a place for a York to be seriously involved.
I knew, however, what would speak to her.
“I gave my word,” I said. “I told my friend I would go to New York to meet with him and the Shubert Foundation. They’re a well-respected organization and everything is already set in place. It would look bad on the family if I backed out.”
Grandmother’s face twisted in annoyance, her lips forming a thin line, before she spoke. “I guess you have to go then,” she said, her irritation clear in her voice. “But leaving this week is not an option. I’ve arranged for you to meet Elisabet Wellington this Friday evening,” she added.
I clenched my jaw and tried not to show my annoyance on my face. Fortunately, I was well-practiced in hiding my emotions. Either people in families like mine learned to control their expressions or they got swept away by the avarice of the upper class.
“Thank you, Grandmother, but I’m not interested in dating Elisabet Wellington,” I said.
I was familiar with the name, but I hadn’t met the woman. I didn’t need to, though. She wasn’t the first person Grandmother had tried to set me up with in the past few years. Whatever else Elisabet was, I had little doubt she came from a wealthy, aristocratic family and was likely to inherit most or all of her family’s wealth, if she hadn’t already.
“I understand that a man doesn’t need to worry about his biological clock as a woman does,” Grandmother said, giving Anne a pointed look. “But that doesn’t mean you can delay finding a suitable wife.”
“I can find my own dates, Grandmother,” I said, giving her my most charming and professional smile, the one that had always gotten me what I wanted from whoever I was trying to win over. Except Grandmother was immune to my charms and always had been.
“I said a suitable wife,” she replied, her tone dismissive. “The women you associate with are not from high-bred families.”
She meant they weren’t born into wealthy, noble families like ours. The only reason Grandmother had approved of my parents’ relationship was because my mother had distant ties to French nobility.
“We already had this conversation before you went to university,” Grandmother continued. “Your parents have allowed your theater interest to continue for much longer than I would have, but you’ve all three assured me you understand your responsibilities.”
“I do,” I said, my tone firm.
“Then you’ll meet with Elisabet,” Grandmother said, her tone leaving no room for further discussion.
Shit.
“Are we talking about Elisabet Wellington?” Anne asked from her seat across from me. “I think we went to school together.”
“Yes,” Grandmother said, her tone dismissive. “Of course you did.”
She said it as-if there were only one school in the country for aristocratic young women.
Anne frowned. “It can’t possibly be the woman I’m thinking of. Daughter of Arthur and Margaret Wellington?”
“Yes, those are her parents,” Grandmother said, her tone becoming impatient. “Please get to the point, Anne, and stop being tedious.”
“Elisabet is a lesbian,” Anne said matter-of-factly.
Grandmother stiffened. “That can’t be. They assured me she would fulfill her responsibilities.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to risk infidelity with another woman,” Anne shrugged. “Just imagine the scandal.” She finished her wine, and we all watched her, waiting to hear what she would say next. “Her parents barely kept her expulsion from school under wraps.”
“She came home to care for her sick mother,” Grandmother said, her tone defensive.
“That was the official story,” Anne agreed, “but they caught Elisabet in a compromising situation with one of the school’s maids. The maid was fired, and they asked Elisabet to leave.”
