“You just don’t know how much I suffer, Francesca. IhateMiss Russell, and Ihatemy lessons.”
“I had my share of governesses and lessons as well,” she reminded her sister. “And I survived. You will too.”
“But it’s not the same,” Lucia wailed.
Francesca couldn’t help sliding her gaze back to her bedchamber windows. The sun had climbed higher in the sky, and she was losing the morning.
“It’s only for a few more years, Lucia.”
“Years, Francesca.Years! ” Lucia collapsed again. “Oh, I can’t wait until I marry. Then no one will tell me what to do!”
Francesca snorted. “Your husband will tell you what to do. Men like ordering women about.” And they weren’t always nice about it.
Lucia gaped at her, and Francesca realized her words had sounded harsh and bitter.
“Don’t youwantto marry, Francesca?”
Francesca met her sister’s azure gaze. “No. I’ll never marry.” She’d never allow any man that much control over her.
Lucia scrambled to sit, dislodging yet another pillow, much to Francesca’s annoyance. “Never marry? You’ll be a spinster. An old maid!”
“Better an old maid than at the mercy of some man’s whims and fancies.”
Lucia blinked. “What do you mean?”
Francesca bit her lip and looked away. She’d said too much. Of course her sister would want to marry. What girl didn’t? And not every betrothal ended the way hers had. Francesca forced a smile. “I don’t mean anything. Forget it.”
“But last year you wanted to marry the Earl of Roxbury. You were even betrothed to him.”
“Well, we ended the engagement.” Francesca hopped off the bed and went to gather her mantle and gloves. As she bent over the pink-and-white striped chair, she could feel Lucia’s hurt stare boring into her back. Throwing the mantle over her arm, she turned around. “I’m sorry, Lucia. I didn’t mean to snap. I”—she swallowed—“I don’t like to talk about Roxbury.”
“I know.” Lucia traced the pattern of the bedclothes she’d rumpled with a finger. “I shouldn’t have mentioned him. But you’ve never said why—”
“Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”
Lucia grabbed a pillow and hurled it at her, hitting her armoire but missing Francesca by a good three feet. “I will scream the next time someone tells me I can do something when I’m older. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
Francesca gave her a sympathetic look. She could remember feeling much the same, longing for her presentation at court and her first Season in London. Only none of it had lived up to her expectations.
She crossed to the bed and gave Lucia a quick hug. “I know it’s hard to wait, but you’ll be all grown up and an old maid like me in no time.”
Lucia laughed. “You’re hardly an old maid!”
“Well, that’s a relief to hear!”
“And I’m sureMammaand Father will give you another Season in London. Meanwhile, I’ll be locked away with a stuffy governess.”
“Well, there you are wrong.” She wrapped the mantle around her shoulders. “I have no intention of returning to London for another Season. Two is enough.” More than enough.
Lucia’s jaw dropped, her blue eyes widening. “You’re hoaxing me.”
Francesca swatted her. “Where did you hear that expression? Oh, never mind. I don’t want to know. Just do not use it in front ofMamma.”
“After she hears you won’t go to London for the Season, she won’t care whatIdo or say.”
Francesca couldn’t argue with that, but she would argue if her parents tried to force her to go to Town. And perhaps it was time her sister grew up. She scooted back onto the bed, next to Lucia.
“Lucia, you think the Season is all about gowns, balls, and the theater, but that’s only a part of it.”
