“Do try to stay strong, dear.” Isabella reached for her friend’s hand and squeezed in mock consolation. “We are not five minutes away now, you know. Surely you can bear it.”
As if sensing her sarcasm, Lilias smiled a bit and tried for cheerfulness. “Hopefully there shall be many an eligible gentleman.”
“Lilias!”
“I am not ashamed of being on a hunt for matrimony. Some of uswantto get married, you know.”
“I want to get married too.” Isabella frowned out the carriage window. Sweeping countryside dotted with bushes, trees, and sheep hurried by. “But in my own time and of my own choice.”
“I cannot imagine you choosing anyone. Pray, what are your requirements?”
“Good heavens.” Isabella gaped at her friend. Did the girl have any sense at all? “You quite make it sound as if choosing a husband were as simple as ordering a hat. Like going into a millinery shop and saying you require a fair bonnet with blue ribbon and cherries and plums and—”
“La, don’t be droll. You are funny. Listen here and I shall tell you what I seek in a husband.” The girl settled deeper into her seat and no longer seemed to mind the bumps of the carriage. “Tall, handsome features, a bit plump but not so much as to make me feel insignificant standing next to him. Also very rich and gay. There. What do you think?”
“I think that sounds like half the men of theton.”
“All the better. I shall have an infinite amount to choose from.”
“And you care nothing for his manner? His temperament?”
“So long as he is not so very disagreeable.”
“What if he is dull?”
“Why, Isabella, I am only going tomarryhim, after all. It is not as if I need find him perfect in every sense. Now tell me yours.”
“I have none. Truly.” Expectation had been ripped from her at nine years old. The words played again. How she had despaired over them as a child, but now she understood them.
Love was social benefits, impressive dowries, and the temporary desire between man and woman. Beyond that, it did not exist.
She would not be so foolish as to pretend it did.
The carriage halted before Isabella was forced to partake of any more of Lilias’s nonsense. A footman handed Isabella down first, then Bridget, then Lilias—who scolded the servant for causing her to drop her reticule, while Isabella glanced up at Rockingham Hall.
The cream-colored house towered three stories high, with six stone chimneys and more windows than she could count. Two additional wings flanked the main house. Bushes, life-sized Greek statues, and colorful flowers stirred a sense of beauty and ambrosial smells.
In the lawn to her left, next to the pond and gardens, six or so gentlemen played pall-mall.
“Oh look, Isabella. Can it be?” Lilias pointed. Very unladylike, of course, but Isabella no longer cared when she spotted the object of Lilias’s interest.
The air caught in her throat.
In the distance, a darkly clothed gentleman bent down to readjust one of the iron hoops into the grass. With his mallet over his shoulder, he straightened and glanced up.
His eyes found hers. Of course they did. Didn’t they always?
“Who knew Lord Livingstone would be here?” Lilias urged the footman to take care with her valise then looped her arm around Isabella’s. “We shall have a lovely house party indeed, I imagine.”
Isabella suppressed a groan.Lovelywas not the word she would have used at all. Could she survive Lord Livingstone and Lady Sarsfield both for an entire month?
The house still reeked of death. The rotting scent hung heavy in the air, mingled with all the flowers that had decorated her woolen shroud.
Horace threw his hat as he entered the foyer behind William. The door slammed behind him, the thud sickening and entrapping. “Where are the bloody servants?”
All the way to the graveyard, Horace had remained silent. Then at the burial, as the Anglican liturgy was read in monotone, as the coffin was lowered into a hole next to Constance Kensley, he had spoken not a word. Indeed, had he said anything in the two days since his mother’s passing?
Shedding his black gloves and tossing them to the floor, Horace hurried for the trophy room.
