“Is that so?”
At her dull, toneless voice, her father huffed out a breath in obvious warning, as Lord Dalrymple nodded, his third chin wobbling significantly. Beady eyes looked back at her as though she were a delicate piece of meat from which he intended to carve out a piece for himself.
“Andmorethan suitable for the third daughter of a Viscount.”
Lord Dalrymple chuckled as her father laughed aloud, as though suggesting that the gentleman had made a very good jest.
Constance, however, was appalled. Was this how her father spoke of her to others? As though she were lesser than his other two daughters simply by the placement of her birth? What of these gentlemen? Did they know anything about her character at all, or was it onlytheirsuitability that was considered by her father?
“She has, of course, had all the teaching and education required for a young lady.” Lord Hayman gestured to her with a flutter of his fingers as Constance recoiled. “You will find her quite proper, I am sure.”
“Very good.”
Constance made a quiet exclamation, horrified at how her father was speaking of her. Lord Hayman smiled tightly but, unfortunately, the sound was caught by Lord Dalrymple.
“Is there something you wished to say?” His eyebrows lifted a little. “I thought you were quite well trained?! I did not think, therefore, that a young lady such as yourself would ever interrupt two gentlemen when they were speaking.”
Constance blinked, then lifted her chin even though her heart was hammering furiously.
“I beg your pardon, but my father introduced you to me only a few minutes ago. Thus, we areallmeant to be in conversation, are we not?”
Recalling what Lady Brookmire had suggested as regarded making herself appear a little less than perfect for any gentleman her father brought to her, Constance spoke firmly, but without being rude. Rude was not something she would ever permit herself to be, but she could show Lord Dalrymple that she was not a quiet, retiring young lady, even though her father might have painted her as such.
“This is most extraordinary!” Lord Dalrymple threw up one hand. “You canclearlysee that your father and I are in discussion and-”
“Yes, you are both talking about me. Given that I am present and able to hear every word you say, I find the lack of consideration for my presence a little unbefitting two gentlemen such as yourselves.” Her father’s eyebrows rose, only to fall low over his forehead as he scowled, a flush rising into his face in clear annoyance over how she was behaving. Constance did not stop, nor hold herself back as, no doubt, her father wished her to do. Instead, she continued, speaking in as calm a voice as she could, while remaining firm in her expectations. “What would be better would be for you to speak to me directly. I can inform you about all that I have learned these last few years, and share with you my interests or the like. Indeed, I would be glad to speak with you, rather than have you talk as though I am not present.”
She looked directly at Lord Dalrymple, aware that he was frowning much as her father but almost relieved to see such an expression. Mayhap that expression meant that he would not think as well of her as her father wished him to
Lord Dalrymple scowled, then spoke, his low voice rasping.
“I do not need to askyouany such thing. If I want to speak with you, I shall state it clearly.”
He threw out one hand and a rush of air flung itself across Constance’s cheek, as though he had thought to prevent any further words coming from her lips. Constance stepped back, her stomach roiling. Had he almost struck her?
“Then I have no interest in you continuing your conversation with my daughter.”
Much to Constance’s astonishment, it was not Lady Yardley, nor Lady Brookmire who spoke, but her mother. Constance had not seen her mother since they had arrived at the afternoon soiree, for she had gone at once to speak with some of her friends, and left Constance with her father. Now, however, she had appeared just at the very moment that Lord Dalrymple had come close to striking her.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lord Dalrymple seemed just as horrified that Lady Hayman would speak in such a manner, looking to Lord Hayman for a moment before returning his gaze to Constance.
She stood tall, suddenly free of all anxiety. Somehow, she knew that her mother was here to defend her.
“Do you think that I should condone the acquaintance of a gentleman who thinks it perfectly permissible to behave in such a manner towards my daughter? Someone he has only just become acquainted with?” Lady Hayman tossed her head, her eyes flashing with a vehemence that Constance had never seen before. “I hope that you are not considering this supposed gentleman for our daughter, Lord Hayman. I certainly will not approve of it.”
“It is not Lord Dalrymple who has failed, my dear.” Lord Hayman’s tone was quiet, but dangerous with it as well, warning his wife to stay quiet without saying so directly. “Constance interrupted our conversation.”
“You mean that you were speaking about her, even though she is standing beside you? After you had introduced her?” Thrilled at her mother’s support, Constance wondered just how long her mother had been listening nearby before coming to her defense. She wanted to throw her arms around her and embrace her tightly but instead simply stood quietly, smiling inwardly but keeping her expression quite clear. “How can you bring a gentleman to your daughter, introduce him, and then expect her to stand there in silence as you discuss her traits and suitability? That in itself is rudeness, and I am surprised to hear you defend such behavior. Surely for our daughter, you seek a gentleman who would show some interest in his wife?” There came a slight catch in Lady Hayman’s voice. “Or do you intend to have a gentleman wed to our daughter who cares very little for her? Who thinks nothing of her opinions and cares not a modicum for what she has to say?”
With a tightness to her throat, Constance slid one arm through her mother’s, recognizing that these words came from a place of personal distress. They stood together as Lord Hayman looked away, a deep flush rising into his face.
“I can assure you that, if you did such a thing, my Lord,” the lady continued quietly, “Constance would not find herself in a happy marriage. That is not what you want for our daughter, is it? I am hopeful that you seek the very best match for her, as opposed to simply a suitable gentleman who might satisfy yourownrequirements.”
It was the first time that her mother had ever spoken with such fervor, and Constance, still a little astonished, looked to her, only to see Lady Hayman’s eyes glistening. Her heart ached, and she pulled herself a little closer. Her mother’s hand came to her arm, and rested there as they stood together, fortitude against presumed strength, until, finally, the two gentlemen were the ones to buckle.
“I think I shall take my leave.” Lord Dalrymple was the one to move away, ending their time together. “Despite our conversation, I do not think that there can be any connection between us, Lord Hayman. I am sorry.”
