Maggie almost spit out the sip of tea she’d just taken. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
Willow nodded. “It was, rather.”
The women looked at her expectantly. They’d all shared something with her. Did they expect a similar tale? Another initiation?
“Well.” The countess prodded her cane toward Maggie. “What have you done? Other than marry a man whose cravats may blind you if you look at them straight on?”
Maggie really only had one answer to give. “I suppose I have tried to blackmail a man.”
“Fascinating!” gasped Willow.
“Truly?” Henrietta asked. “Who?”
“What for?” Allison wanted to know.”
The countess spoke slowly after the initial cacophony died down. “What do you mean tried?”
Maggie twisted her skirt in her fingers then let it go and smoothed it flat. “I don’t feel right telling you who or what for. But I can tell you that bytriedI mean did not succeed.” She shrugged. “I have no talent for blackmail apparently.”
The countess clucked. “Good thing, most likely. What do you have a talent for?”
“I … ah …” What did she have a talent for? “Sketching? Maybe.” Her rose eye sketch had looked spectacular woven into silk. But she had no passion for it, so it hardly seemed to signify.
A soft hand fluttered down over her own. Maggie looked up into Willow’s earnest eyes. “It’s all right,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was good at or what I truly wanted to do with myself at first, either. You’ll figure it out. And we’ll help you.” Lady Willow removed her hand from Maggie’s and tangled it in her skirts, “We must make the lives we want. I would not have found happiness had I not learned to look to my own desires first.”
Henrietta smiled comfortingly at Lady Willow. “Nor I.”
The countess moved the foot propped on the ottoman slowly back and forth. “Had I not followed my own path instead of the one set for me by my father I might not have a foot. Or breath in my body.”
Maggie mulled it over. “I suppose to be unapologetically one’s self is the most scandalous thing one can do when fitting in is the rule.”
Aunt Lola slapped the arm of the chair. “Ha! Exactly! I knew I’d like you. As soon as you opened the door and strode through,late, brazen as you please. Besides, you married her”—Aunt Lola shoved a cane in Henrietta’s direction—“treat of a brother. Didn’t think anyone would pin him down, but there you are looking more than slightly tousled, definitely debauched, and thoroughly in love.”
Allison sighed and slumped on the couch. “You’re all perfectly, blissfully married! What am I to do? I’ll never experience the same.”
“Tut-tut!” Aunt Lola’s scowl returned. “No bemoaning a fate that will not be yours. A bold lady controls her own destiny. Haven’t you been listening? If you remain bold, you will have the ending you desire. Now. What is it you desire?”
Allison’s face lit up, and she spoke into a heavy exhale. “Adventure.”
Aunt Lola nodded and she turned to Maggie. “And you?”
Maggie may not have been able to answer the question about talent, but she knew exactly how to answer this question. What did she desire? To help Tobias find a business partner. But she couldn’t put the thought into words, and not just because Tobias would not want her to reveal his secrets to these women. She paused because that was not what she desired forherself, but what she desired for her husband. What she desired for herself, she could not yet say.
These women had purpose outside of their families. They had passions all their own. But Maggie had never existed for her own purpose or passions. As far back as she could remember, her parents had trotted her out for their artist friends as amusement, at the very least, and as the subject for art most often. Though she had never been put atop a pedestal as literally as she had at this year’s party, she had always been on view for all to see so she could inspire them. And when she had not been on view, when they all had left her to her own devices, she’d hid in the shadows, listening, watching, gathering information about their deeds and actions in order to help her family.
No wonder she had no idea what she wanted for herself. It was not just that she’d never been asked the question before. It was more like she’d never known the question existed to begin with.
* * *
Tobias slouched against the wall outside 2 Belgrave Square, home to the Earl of Beckingham and his countess. He’d never met them before, but they certainly aroused his curiosity. The earl was known for his landscape gardening. A peer who labored was an anomaly, and if the rest of the ton did not want his designs for their own estates, Beckingham would likely find himself cast out.
Yet the man persevered. Admirable, that.
Tobias didn’t have to toady to the ton. He existed far enough outside of it to make his own way without fear of censure.
Why, then, did he fear censure?
Because that’s what he felt every time he revealed a new side of himself to his wife. And it’s what had surged through him when she’d suggested he speak with Henrietta about joining him in his business venture. Not censure from the ton, no. He feared censure from his sister, his wife, his father. He feared their laughter.
