“Henry, please…”
“Mother, stop being so soft. Because you have been so soft, Verity wasted years where she could have been making far more effort with society. She might have found another match before she became a spinster. We cannot let any more time pass, or I will be saddled caring financially for my sister forever.”
Verity felt the weight of Henry’s words, each one a painful reminder of her shortcomings and the societal pressures that dictated her future whether she wanted them to or not.
The worst part of all of this was knowing that Henry’s concerns were not entirely unfounded, given the harsh realities of the ton and the expectations placed upon a woman of her age and status.
But did that mean she had no choice but to marry Ambrose? The idea filled Verity with a sense of despair and desperation. The marriage would be loveless and unpleasant. She did not like anything that Lord Aldford had to say. She did not enjoy his company at all.
Then of course she would also be expected to care for his children, who saw her as a stranger.
Perhaps the younger ones would eventually come to care for her. They might even like her one day, but Amelia and Cordelia… there was no chance that they would ever like her. Verity could tell that their instant contempt toward her would always remain. It was in their spite filled eyes when they even bothered to glance her way.
“Ah, are you starting to understand, Verity?” Henry scoffed. “Is the realization finally hitting you? Thank goodness, because I need you to put a lot more effort in to this match with Ambrose,or you will lose him as well. I don’t want to have to keep explaining this to you, over and over again.”
Verity bit her bottom lip and nodded, trying her hardest to fight back the tears that were threatening to come.
She wasn’t going to let Henry see her cry.
“Right, well I will leave you to your morning then,” Henry snapped. “And don’t let me hear you talking like that again. We need to take your future far more seriously, Verity.”
She could not stand to even lift her eyes up to look at her mother any longer. The weight of Henry’s words was just too much to bear.
What on earth was she going to do?
The door closed behind Henry, and the silence that followed was oppressive. Verity felt the weight of her brother’s words pressing down on her, crushing her spirit. She could not imagine a future tied to Lord Ambrose, yet the alternative seemed even bleaker.
It did not seem like her brother would even entertain the idea of an alternative which only made it even worse.
Her mother moved closer, her expression filled with sorrow and understanding. “Verity,” she began gently, “you must not let Henry’s harsh words dictate your actions. You deserve happiness, and if Ambrose does not bring that to you, then he is not the right choice.”
“But what choice do I have, Mother?” Verity’s voice trembled with the weight of her despair. “Henry is right. My chances are slipping away, and the ton will never forget my past. They will always see me as the woman who was left behind.”
Her mother’s eyes softened with empathy. “You are more than what society sees, Verity. You are intelligent, kind, and deserving of love. There must be another way.”
“I am starting to think that there might not be.”
Verity’s voice was laced with hopelessness, her spirit on the verge of breaking. The suffocating pressure from Henry’s tirade and the relentless scrutiny of society seemed insurmountable. What if this truly was the only choice that she was left with? What would she do then?
***
Later that morning, as if to add salt to her wounds, the butler announced that she had a visitor, just as she was about to pick up her paint brush, to while the painful hours away. But no, she could not engage in the only thing that might lift her spirits.
Not now.
Not with him there.
Lord Aldford.
Verity felt a shiver run down her spine at his presence, especially as he stepped in to the room with a bouquet of somewhat wilted looking flowers, that he had clearly made no effort to get for her. He had likely just gathered them from the street outside, just as a gesture rather than a true gift.But she could not refuse to see him. She knew well that refusing his invitation would only anger Henry further.
She took a deep breath, plastering a polite smile on her face as she greeted him.
“Good morning, Lord Aldford,” she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
“Good morning, Miss Verity,” he replied, offering a stiff bow. He extended the bouquet towards her, and she accepted it with forced gratitude.
“Thank you, my lord,” Verity said, her smile remaining fixed as she tried to ignore the flowers’ wilted appearance. “Please, have a seat.”
