A suitable arrangement, p.16
A Suitable Arrangement, page 16
“No thanks is necessary,” I replied, feeling strange. “Heaven knows I am receiving the better end of the bargain.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Saving Lochlarren is a laudable goal.”
I nodded, though my eyes flitted to Juliana. I had entered the match to save the estate, without a care for who the bride would be. But now that I knew her, she was becoming an equally desirable aspect of the arrangement.
And that was a terrifying thought.
“The hall is ready, my lord,” the footman said.
“Very good.” I raised my voice over the din in the room. “Shall we dance, then?”
Claps, a few cheers, and a general moving toward the great hall met my words. A few musicians had been hired to provide music for the evening, and they gathered near the empty fireplace, tuning their instruments.
Juliana entered the room, flocked by two women and three men. She was laughing, and I hesitated to interrupt her with a request to dance. Were we expected to dance together first? I had never been engaged before, and I hadn’t cared enough to note how things had been done at other such events. Was this a celebration of our union, or an opportunity for Juliana to become acquainted with everyone in attendance? If the latter, dancing together would be counterproductive.
But even as I debated the expectations, the issue was decided for me. Lord Fossdale bowed over Juliana’s hand, and she curtsied in acceptance, eliciting playfully distressed reactions from the other two men nearby.
There was no doubt at all Juliana had made a positive impression on those present. She seemed fully capable of managing the attention she was receiving—and to be enjoying it thoroughly. This was her dream, as her father had said. Aside from supplying the title, I had nothing to do with it.
The two disappointed pretenders to her hand turned to other partners, leaving the more obvious choice, Miss Patton, looking very much embarrassed.
Juliana’s gaze flitted around the room as though in search for a partner for her. It landed upon me. We were too far apart for words, but her eyes spoke volumes.
“Excuse me,” I said, slipping through the people blocking my way.
Miss Patton was looking down, her cheeks aflame with embarrassment.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Patton,” I said, as though I had been searching high and low for her.
Her head came up, her wide eyes meeting mine for a moment before she looked over one shoulder and then the other, as though there was another Miss Patton in attendance I might be speaking to.
“I hoped you would do me the honor of standing up with me for the first set,” I said.
She blinked, remaining utterly speechless for so long, I began to wonder if she was, in fact, mute. Mr. Patton had a number of daughters, but I did not think I had ever heard such a thing of any of them.
Juliana took Miss Patton by the arm. “What a splendid idea. Is it not, Emily?”
“Y-y-yes,” Miss Patton squeaked out after another nudge from Juliana. “I would be delighted, my lord.” She sounded terrified, not delighted, but I put out my hand to her despite that. It hovered in the air, empty, as she stared at me.
Juliana and Lord Fossdale shared an amused glance, and I nearly retracted my offer and told Juliana we were expected to dance the first set together. I refrained, however, as Juliana assisted Miss Patton’s hand to mine.
I smiled reassuringly at my partner, and she seemed to relax ever so slightly. “Shall we?”
She nodded, and Juliana took Fossdale’s arm, her eyes on me, teeming with gratitude in a way that made me care little for what sort of partner Miss Patton would prove to be. She could use my feet as her personal ballroom floor if she wished.
Thankfully, she seemed to have more skill at dancing than at accepting invitations to dance. Her tendency to look at me to ascertain what I thought of her as a partner was her greatest obstacle to becoming an ideal partner. All she needed was a bit of confidence, so when she made a mistake, I pretended the error was my own.
I recognized the way she was behaving for what it was: awe to be selected as the first partner of the evening by an earl. It was something I had become accustomed to—the painful awkwardness, the round-eyed furtive glances, the stammering. I preferred it to the alternative, which was fluttering lashes, fawning behavior, and an oppressive need to be recognized.
Juliana had displayed neither of these behaviors upon our first meeting, instead opting for a haughty arrogance that I had since learned was quite foreign to her personality. Thank heaven. She danced well, or perhaps she simply made it look enjoyable. Would she smile so cheerfully when we danced together? Would we dance together? And why did it matter to me?
Perhaps now that the financial preoccupations which had consumed me for so many weeks were at an end, my mind was grasping onto whatever problem it could find.
There was no problem, though. Tomorrow, I was to be married to Juliana Godfrey, setting in motion all the clauses of the contracts her father and I had spent the past two days cementing and signing. Lochlarren would be saved. Juliana would become countess. Both of us would have what we had set out to achieve.
I returned Miss Patton to her father once the set was over and, just to spite my desire to seek out Juliana, I asked Miss Stewart to join me for the next set.
It became clear by the end of the set, however, that my preoccupation was growing rather than diminishing. The more I considered it, too, the sillier it seemed not to dance with my soon-to-be bride at our own engagement party.
I thanked Miss Stewart, then threaded my way toward Juliana. She was being given a drink by her dance partner on the other side of the room. Nelly and Lord Orton were nearby, having danced the set together. My gaze lingered on them for a moment. Perhaps the two of them would make a match of it. Nelly wished to marry a peer, after all.
Juliana’s laugh brought my gaze back to her, and I felt a sliver of hesitation to interrupt her conversation with Mr. Mackay.
What was it that made asking one’s own intended to dance so devilishly nerve-racking? I squared my shoulders. I was the Earl of Lismore, for goodness’ sake, and it was only natural that Juliana and I dance together before the musicians left us all to take tea.
My heart beat erratically as her and Mr. Mackay’s attention turned toward me.
I gave a little nod of acknowledgement to the latter, then directed my attention to Juliana. The sight of her, so near and radiant, tied my tongue in a tight knot. I was no different than Miss Patton, stammering and stuttering as soon as I opened my mouth.
No. I was worse, for I couldn’t even manage a sound.
I cleared my throat. “Miss Godfrey, would you do me the honor of—”
“Sandy!” Nelly came up by my side, Orton next to her. “There you are! Surely you do not mean to go the entire night without asking me to dance.”
I glanced at her, then back to Juliana, whose eyes had held an almost expectant gleam in them until Nelly’s comment.
“On the contrary,” I said. “It would be my pleasure to dance with you, Nelly, but I have just asked—”
“It is quite all right,” Juliana said with a smile. “You two should dance the next set.”
I hesitated. Was she saying so out of politeness or because she wished for a different partner?
“Yes,” Orton chimed in, “and I shall escort Miss Godfrey to the ballroom floor—if she will have me.” He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her, the smile on his face perfectly communicating how sure he was his suggestion would be welcome. Devil take him.
“I would be delighted,” Juliana replied, curtsying.
“You will have her all to yourself soon, Lismore,” said Orton. “Let the rest of us enjoy her while we can.”
I smiled, gritting my teeth. I cared for Nelly too much to wish to hurt her by insisting on dancing with Juliana, so I made no effort to pursue the subject. “Certainly.”
“Shall we, Miss Godfrey?” Orton asked, extending his arm to her.
Juliana’s gaze flitted to me briefly as she accepted it.
“Perhaps the next set?” I said.
She nodded with a small smile, and Orton led her toward the dance floor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JULIANA
Thus far, the night had gone better than I could have imagined. Everyone had been kind, attentive, and pleasant to dance and speak with. Lord Orton in particular was quite the most engaging dance partner I had ever had the pleasure of standing up with.
As we danced a reel with a few steps unfamiliar to me, Orton had me laughing at my missteps. He made me feel at ease rather than thinking any less of me for it. I hadn’t known him more than two hours, but with his English accent and his sympathy for my lack of experience in Scotland, he felt like a bit of home—a small comfort to me amongst so many strangers.
Lord Orton and I separated to our respective sides of the set while the other couples performed their figures. I watched Sandy and Miss Cochrane, faces both wreathed in smiles as they danced and conversed with ease.
My own smile wavered, but I fortified it, feeling Lord Orton’s gaze upon me. I joked and laughed my way through the rest of the dance, but my mind was three couples away—and my eyes, too, when I couldn’t prevent them from wandering there.
“Refreshment?” Lord Orton asked once we left the dance floor after the set.
“Oh,” I said, trying to swallow with a parched throat. “I believe I am meant to stand up for the next set with Lord Lismore.” Even as I said it, my gaze found Sandy, engaged in conversation with Miss Cochrane on the ballroom floor, as though they had either been too engrossed to realize the dance had ended or meant to remain for the last set of the night.
Would we truly not even dance once together? It seemed wrong. It felt wrong. But what did I know of such things? I was not only ignorant of how things were done amongst the aristocracy, I was also ignorant of the customs in Scotland.
“It seems he is otherwise engaged,” Lord Orton said.
Sandy was engaged. To me. Both to dance and to be married. But perhaps that was not as he truly wished things to be. His circumstances demanded he marry me, but his heart? I was beginning to suspect it belonged to Miss Cochrane.
I allowed Lord Orton to lead me to the refreshments, determined not to allow my eyes to seek out Sandy again. It would be perfectly enjoyable to spend more time with the Earl of Orton, and then I could truthfully report to Augusta I had not hung on Sandy’s sleeve all evening. I had barely even seen his sleeve.
“Allow me,” said a voice as Lord Orton reached for the nearest tray of drinks.
Appearing out of nowhere, Sandy swiped a tray from the platter and offered it to me.
“I have come for my promised set,” he said. “I trust you have enjoyed Miss Godfrey’s company for sufficient time, Orton?”
“Impossible,” Lord Orton replied genially with a smiling glance at me. “But, nevertheless, I shall be grateful for the time I had.” He took my gloved hand and bowed over it.
Sandy watched him walk off for a moment, then turned to me. “Would you like to dance, or would you prefer to rest?”
“Dance, I think.” I took a drink, letting the sweet coolness slip down my throat and, I hoped, steady my beating heart. “If you are agreeable.”
He smiled and put out his hand. “More agreeable than when you first met me, I hope.”
The spark that traveled up my arm at his touch attested to that fact.
We took our places at the head of the set. Silence reigned between us as the dancing began. I wanted to ask him about Miss Cochrane, but this was neither the place nor the time—and it was none of my business. She and Lord Orton were dancing again, situated just one couple away.
Sandy’s eyes traveled in that direction, and he frowned.
And yet, as we came together, his gaze turned to me, making me feel short of breath. We spoke little, but it was not awkwardness which prevailed between us but rather a silent pensiveness, as though both of us were trying to fathom that we would be married on the morrow. How I wished I could see into his mind and know how he felt at the prospect.
But I could hardly explain my own feelings, so jumbled were they. I anticipated and dreaded all at once the ceremony and the thought of being Sandy’s wife. Tonight had borne upon me the inequality of the situation, but not because of my station in life.
The music instructed Sandy and I to rejoin hands for a moment, and I searched his eyes. It felt clear to me that our motivations for marriage were quite different. There lay the unfair discrepancy.
Our marriage would grant me a title. It was the vehicle to achieve my and Papa’s aspirations.
For Sandy, though, this was a marriage borne of necessity. It was not hopes or dreams which had led him to agree to the match; it was duty—a duty which had apparently taken from him the match he had wanted.
Would he ever be able to look upon me without seeing a reminder of what he had sacrificed for his family’s legacy and well-being?
I wanted better than that for him and for myself. I didn’t wish to keep him from Miss Cochrane. Not as a dance partner, not as a wife.
Neither could I deny any longer the growing attraction I felt for him. I wanted to call it friendship, but as I curtsied and he bowed at the end of the set, I knew in my heart that it was fast becoming more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SANDY
“I shall be obliged to leave an hour or two after the ceremony,” Mr. Godfrey said as we sat at the breakfast table. Last night’s party had not ended until nearly two, but Mrs. Boyle had informed me that a letter had arrived for Mr. Godfrey by express at the unholy hour of six this morning, since which time he had been awake and busy. The man was indefatigable.
My brothers, on the other hand, had yet to make an appearance for breakfast.
“So soon?” Juliana asked.
Her father grimaced. “I am afraid so. When I left, I thought my business was well enough in hand without me, but it appears otherwise.” He held up the letter in his hands. “Never fear, though, my dear. I shall return as soon as I am able.”
She nodded. She was looking tired—the same way I felt. She had hardly touched her toast or tea. Was the thought of marrying me in a few hours depriving her of her appetite? “And Augusta?” she asked.
Miss Lowe was not present at the table but abed. The doctor’s ministrations had not seemed to improve her situation.
“I would take her with me,” her father replied, “but I do not think it would be a kindness to force her to travel in her current state. I hope she will soon turn a corner.”
“I hope the same,” Juliana agreed. “And I shall be glad to have her with me here.”
I frowned. The comment itself was benign, but the way she looked at me afterward . . . less so.
Mr. Godfrey stood. “I had better see to my belongings and dress for the church.” He smiled at me, stopping behind Juliana and bending to kiss her on the head. “It is finally here. The day we have been waiting for. My little countess.” The words were spoken soft, as though only meant for her, but I heard them all the same.
She looked up at him, grasping his hand and squeezing it. “I shall come see you at your bedchamber shortly.”
He patted her hand and left the room.
“I suppose we should ready ourselves as well,” I said, watching her expression to try to gauge her feelings as I stood.
“I suppose so.” She set her napkin aside. She didn’t stand, though, and I wondered if she was waiting for me to assist her. She looked up suddenly. “Might I have a brief word with you first?”
“Of course. In the study, perhaps?”
She nodded, and the way she avoided my gaze set my mind and heart racing as I led the way there.
I opened the creaking door and waited for her to pass through, biting my tongue to keep from asking what it was she wished to speak of. All in due time. I hesitated for a moment, then closed the door behind us. We would be married in the next three hours. Propriety seemed a formality that should not supersede privacy at this point.
Juliana was standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze on nothing in particular. I walked over to the desk and rested against it, waiting—not terribly patiently—for her to speak.
Finally, she looked up, meeting my gaze. “I do not know how else to say this than to put it frankly, so I pray you will forgive my forthrightness.”
“I prefer it,” I said calmly, though my heart was anything but.
She nodded. “I simply wish to know, while there is still time, if you truly wish to move forward with this marriage.”
My jaw slipped open, though words escaped me.
She gave a grimacing sort of smile. “Do you still prefer my frankness?”
I closed my mouth and cleared my throat. “I do prefer it.” I searched her face, wondering what had led to this. Was she wishing to cry off? Had last night’s party given her a taste for something better than a Scottish earldom? She had certainly enjoyed Orton’s company.
A flicker of panic ignited within me, but I resolved to lighten the situation rather than add to the seriousness of it. “I assure you, I shan’t bring sabers to dinner or force you to eat without forks again, Juliana.”
The smile she offered was polite but weak.
I let out a breath, giving up my attempt at levity. “The contracts have been drawn up and signed, the ring engraved, our acquaintances informed—and the church expecting us in two hours.”
“I know, but . . . I have no wish for you to feel coerced into marriage with me, Sandy.”
I frowned, looking at her intently. “There is no coercion.”
“Is there not?”
I didn’t answer immediately, thinking through my response. “There is a need for the money the marriage brings—a dire one, even. I cannot deny that, and it would be silly to do so, for you know it, just as I know your reasons for entering into this arrangement.”
“Yes. But perhaps there is another way to solve your financial troubles without so much sacrifice. Papa esteems you highly. He would happily enter into an alternative arrangement with you, one whereby both of you could benefit without our tying ourselves to one another in this way.”
