“Whatever is it doing over here?” her sister asked, bringing it over and handing it around the screen, averting her eyes politely as she did so.
“I… I was dressing for dinner and—”
“What? It was over an hour ago! Diana informed us you wouldn’t be down, that you had taken ill suddenly and needed to lie down. Marjorie! It was horrible! You weren’t there to save me from Father’s flights of fancy.”
“Oh?” she asked, feigning interest while trying to figure out how to fasten her gown. “Would you… oh dear, would you please help me?”
“Of course, sister.” Harriet pushed off the bed from where she’d fallen in her grief. She waited while Marjorie backed towards her, covered except for the row of ties she couldn’t reach. Her fingers went to work nimbly, then she announced, “There, all done.”
Marjorie hastily kicked the offending clothes into an unrecognizable pile before leading Harriet to two comfortable chairs, a small table between them. She reached for a thin velvet cord and rang for a tray.
“Yes, My Lady?” Diana asked a few minutes later. “I’m so pleased to see that you’re feeling better and sitting up. Your headache must have passed quickly.”
Her tone was pointed for Marjorie’s benefit, but Harriet had already told Marjorie of the ruse.
“Yes, thank you! And thank you so much for letting Father know I wasn’t feeling up to coming down to dine. But seeing as how I’m all better now—and feeling a bit famished—could you trouble Mrs. Stapleton for a tray? Anything that’s left from dinner will be fine.”
“I’d already informed her that you were unwell, but that I had a feeling your illness wouldn’t be too dire. She saved your plate and kept it warm. Just let me fetch it.”
Diana smiled and gave a small curtsey, leaving Harriet to turn to Marjorie and start crying anew. Still reeling from the day’s adventure, she sat patiently and waited for her little sister to begin.
“Oh Marjorie, it was horrible. Father kept on talking about your pending marriage, and what a good match he’d secured for you. He spoke of your advanced age, which is absolutely ridiculous, of course. Many girls past your age are still waiting to be betrothed.”
Marjorie was only half-listening, intent on putting unpleasant thoughts about marriage out of her mind for as long as she could. The fear and anxious rush from the day’s events were only now subsiding, replaced with a certain kind of giddiness that Marjorie was unaccustomed to. She forced back a smile lest Harriet think she was being unkind.
“And so, I sought to steer the subject to other matters, and perchance to question Father about a ball to announce your engagement…”
Oh goodness, I’d forgotten about a ball, Marjorie thought, suddenly feeling less giddy.
“and do you know what Father said? ‘I shouldn’t think I should have to throw such an extravagant party. I’m the one losing a daughter. The Duke should do it since he’s the one who stands to gain.’ Can you believe it?”
“Wait, what did you say? Father is not… he’s not hosting a ball?” Marjorie asked quietly.
“Oh sister, are you so disappointed? I didn’t know you had your heart set on it,” Harriet replied, fresh tears pooling in her wide blue eyes.
“No, on the contrary, I’d rather not make a fool of myself in front of so many people, putting on a show that I was somehow enamored of a man who could quite well be my grandfather. But I also cannot fathom the nerve it must take to foist the responsibility off on His Grace.” Marjorie frowned, imagining her father’s mental machinations.
“So, was that his final decision?” she managed to ask, wondering already how she’d live down the embarrassment of her father’s miserly ways.
“I did remind him that when the bride’s family does not fulfill their social obligations in these matters, the ton tends to fabricate some excuses. In this case—and sister, do please forgive me—I said that some might speculate Father wasn’t hosting the formal events because he was displeased with the match, and that the only reason for him to be displeased would be… if youhadto get married.” Harriet’s voice dropped to a whisper and she cried in earnest. “Please forgive me, I couldn’t think what other awful thing they might assume!”
Marjorie would have laughed at the absurdity of anyone thinking such a thing if she weren’t so acutely aware of the way the ton gossip spread. If the proper decorum were not maintained, especially in an area such as marriage and the joining of fortunes and titles, the tongues were quick to wag.
“Was he so easily convinced?” Marjorie asked, leaning closer without realizing it.
“I think so,” Harriet said. “He began to mutter and nod, and at least he didn’t broach the topic again.”
Marjorie sighed. “Thank you, Harriet. You’re more dear to me than any friend, and always such a wonderful sister.”
The younger girl sighed with relief. “I do hate to speak up and contradict Father, you know that. But some matters are too important to leave to chance. This was one of those times.”
Diana returned with a tray with dinner for Marjorie and a few tidbits for Harriet, lest Marjorie have to eat in front of her. They thanked her and began to eat, avoiding the unpleasant subject of Marjorie’s marriage
At times, she was almost tempted to share her secret with Harriet, but then decided not to burden her younger sister with the knowledge. The less she knew, the better. It was especially true if she should decide to do it again.
* * *
“Sir, I apologize for barging in like this, but I have bad news to report,” Donohue said as he was shown into Evan’s study. “Your horse, the one who narrowly lost in the final race today, seems to have fallen ill.”
