“It is a good thing that a man is overbearing,” she insisted. “It means he will take care of you. And of course, one can hope that he is then strong enough to make you his own.”
Caroline merely shrugged at this. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “He is a great friend and while I do enjoy spending time with him, I do not truly see him as my future husband. I don’t think of him in that manner. I cannot imagine bedding him.” She shuddered at the thought and shook her head. “He is polite, but often he is just a bit too much. Too eager to touch me—to hold my hand or put a hand on my wrist,” she admitted now. “And yet, there is no warmth or fire in my belly when we are together and… I do admit, he has tried at least once to kiss me, and itwas a rather clumsy endeavor. Nothing at all like the passionate kisses I’ve read about.”
Beatrice shook her head at this, frowning when the maid’s fingers got stuck in a rebellious curl. Only once she’d fixed it, did Beatrice turn her gaze towards her sister again.
“You shouldn’t complain about a gentleman giving you attention,” she admonished. “I…”
Beatrice’s cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson and she sighed. “I must admit,” she said, her voice hushed—as though she was reluctant to share this. “I was rather afraid of not marrying in time.”
At this admission, Caroline frowned, and she tilted her head to look at her sister. “Afraid?”
Beatrice nodded, emboldened by her sister’s interest. “Well, I am twenty-four!” she exclaimed. “If I did not find a husband soon, I’d have been… a spinster!”
She said the last two words with an exaggerated shudder and closed her eyes. “Can you imagine? Is there a fate more horrid?”
Caroline leaned forward at this and took her sister’s hand in her own. “Beatrice,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’d never be a spinster.”
Beatrice shook her head quickly, her lips curling downward. “I don’t know,” she admitted with a deep sigh. “I have had many suitors, but it always stops right before… you know, before there is even a chance of more… I don’t know what it is that I do wrong…”
Caroline grabbed her sister’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze, but Beatrice did not seem at all comforted.
“I… I was so afraid that I’d end up alone, Caroline,” she admitted softly. “I try to be proper and ladylike, but no matter what I do… it just never feels as though I am quite enough.”
A sympathetic look crossed Caroline’s face and she looked at her sister firmly. “You are beautiful and clever. Perhaps a tad intimidating, but that is just because you are too good for most men. That’s why you are not yet married.”
“What do you mean? How am I intimidating?” Beatrice looked at Caroline curiously and the latter flashed her a sympathetic smile.
“I merely mean,” she explained, “that you do not ever relax around men. You are only ever really yourself with me—and they think that you are intimidating because nothing ever breaks your mask.”
Beatrice frowned at this and Caroline smiled softly at her sister, her blue eyes filled with warmth. “You have such a beautiful soul,” she explained gently. “But you hide who you are behind this mask of propriety. If you allow others to see the real you, the kind-hearted woman I know and love, they will not be able to keep from loving you either!”
Beatrice merely sighed at that, and her brow furrowed slightly. “I wish it were that simple, Caroline,” she admitted. “But you know as well as I do that we are expected to behave in a certain way in this society. Women must be feminine and graceful. We must always be polite and can never allow men to see us emotional—if I let my true self show, I fear that the ton would judge me so harshly.”
Caroline folded her arms at this. “What of it?” she countered gently. “Anyone who would judge you for being yourself is not worth your time or concern. You deserve a husband who appreciates you for who you truly are, not some facade you put on for the sake of appearances.”
Beatrice frowned a bit as her sister spoke, though a small smile started tugging at the corners of her lips. “You make it sound so easy, Caroline. But you know as well as I do that it is not that simple. You know what it means if the ton is against you. Besides… even if I were inclined to be myself, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
At this, Caroline reached out and took hold of her sister’s hand. She gave it a quick squeeze and grinned, her eyes twinkling with delight.
“Start small,” she advised. “Laugh genuinely, share your true opinions, allow your wit to shine through. I know it feels daunting, but I have complete faith in you, Beatrice. You are far stronger—and more endearing—than you give yourself credit for.”
Serene gratitude flashed across Beatrice’s face, and she squeezed Caroline’s hand back. “Thank you, Caroline,” she whispered with a furtive glance in the direction of the servants. “I do not know what I would ever do without you.”
Caroline laughed softly. “Luckily you will never have to find out,” she assured her sister. “And I will do whatever I can to make this easier for you!”
Beatrice breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I am rather certain that father is starting to give up on finding me a proper match. If Sebastian Fairchild does not want to marry me, I fear that I am doomed to a life of spinsterhood…”
“Oh, Beatrice,” Caroline admonished. “You do not need a man to be happy.”
Beatrice merely looked at her sister at this, as though the words made little sense to her, and Caroline sighed. “I only mean that you are a great person, and anyone would be lucky to be with you,” she explained clumsily, a small smile appearing on her lips.
Before Beatrice could respond to this, a knock at the door interrupted them. The two sisters looked at the footman expectantly and he flashed them a stiff smile.
“My ladies. The earl has sent me to bring you to the drawing room. Our guests have arrived.”
Beatrice jumped to her feet hastily at this, her face a stoic mask. Caroline moved quickly to take her sister’s hand, her whispered promise drifting after them.
“All will be well.”
