exhorted that she must marry for love. As if by saying this, they granted her some grand indulgence, a gift any young lady would be delighted to receive. But to Bel, this insistence on a love match presented an unwelcome obstacle. “I don’t wish to marry for love.
Not romantic love, at any rate.”
“Whyever not?” Sophia asked.
She hedged. It seemed impolite, and most likely in effective, to decry romantic love to two people so thoroughly steeped in it. Her parents had married for love, as had both of her brothers. Of the three matches, two had ended in desolation and the third—successful as it appeared thus far—was just a few months old. She avoided love for the same reason she eschewed spirits: she’d witnessed, firsthand, the ravages of both.
“I have so many plans, so much work to do,” she said. Striving for a diplomatic tone, she added, “And I’ve noticed love has a way of altering a person’s priorities.”
“As well it should, if the thing’s done right,” Gray said.
Sophia touched her wrist. “Of course you could not be in love with Toby so soon. But deep in your heart, if you search, do you detect some inclination to affection? Could you grow to love him, with time?”
I hope not . Bel pushed back from the table and stood. “Sophia, please understand. I am delighted that you and my brother have found one another. I know you mean to be kind. But I do not wish to marry for love; and I would ask you to consider that perhaps Sir Toby feels the same. Otherwise, why did he propose to you?”
Sophia made a subtle wince. Bel’s was overt. Those were the most uncharitable words she’d ever spoken to her sister. Perhaps the most uncharitable words she’d spoken to anyone. But here she’d resolved to embrace this engagement with optimism, and Sophia seemed determined to ruin it all—first with her revelations, then her stack of scandal sheets, and now this questioning.
“Please,” Bel said, sinking back into her chair, “I know you mean well, but Dolly …” She turned to her brother, knowing he was powerless to deny her anything when she employed a soft tone and his pet name from their youth. “Dolly, you promised I might marry whom I choose. I choose to marry Sir Toby.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
“For … several reasons.”
Not because she desired him, or because she’d allowed him to kiss her on the terrace.
Truly, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t.
“I want a marriage that will place me in the public notice and make me a lady of influence.” She gestured toward the stacked copies of The Prattler . “Sir Toby is perfect. All London takes an interest his exploits, he will soon serve in the House of Commons, and by Sophia’s own account he is a fine man.”
“Toby told you he would be serving in Parliament?” Sophia asked.
“Yes. Did he never mention it to you?”
“No.” She looked stunned.
Gray studied Bel for a moment, then put a hand to his temple. “Bel, it’s not that I—”
The sound of the doorbell interrupted them.
“That must be him.” Bel stood up again. Blood rushed to her head. Goodness, she’d been up and down so many times, she might as well have been in church. “Do I look well enough?”
She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her best day dress, a pale blue muslin frock trimmed with ivory lace.
“Bel, you are stunning, as always. You’ll take his breath away.” Ignoring Gray’s harrumph, Sophia took one bite of her toast and then set it aside. “Shall I come with you to greet him?”
“No,” Gray said in a tone of finality. “Bel, kindly go up to the nursery and ask Joss to meet me in my study. If Sir Toby Aldridge wants a glimpse of either of the breathtaking beauties in this house, he’ll have to get through me.”
“Sir Benedict.” Upon entering Grayson’s study, Toby made a courteous bow.
His gesture was not reciprocated. The brute narrowed his eyes at him. “Let’s not waste time pretending to like one
Not romantic love, at any rate.”
“Whyever not?” Sophia asked.
She hedged. It seemed impolite, and most likely in effective, to decry romantic love to two people so thoroughly steeped in it. Her parents had married for love, as had both of her brothers. Of the three matches, two had ended in desolation and the third—successful as it appeared thus far—was just a few months old. She avoided love for the same reason she eschewed spirits: she’d witnessed, firsthand, the ravages of both.
“I have so many plans, so much work to do,” she said. Striving for a diplomatic tone, she added, “And I’ve noticed love has a way of altering a person’s priorities.”
“As well it should, if the thing’s done right,” Gray said.
Sophia touched her wrist. “Of course you could not be in love with Toby so soon. But deep in your heart, if you search, do you detect some inclination to affection? Could you grow to love him, with time?”
I hope not . Bel pushed back from the table and stood. “Sophia, please understand. I am delighted that you and my brother have found one another. I know you mean to be kind. But I do not wish to marry for love; and I would ask you to consider that perhaps Sir Toby feels the same. Otherwise, why did he propose to you?”
Sophia made a subtle wince. Bel’s was overt. Those were the most uncharitable words she’d ever spoken to her sister. Perhaps the most uncharitable words she’d spoken to anyone. But here she’d resolved to embrace this engagement with optimism, and Sophia seemed determined to ruin it all—first with her revelations, then her stack of scandal sheets, and now this questioning.
“Please,” Bel said, sinking back into her chair, “I know you mean well, but Dolly …” She turned to her brother, knowing he was powerless to deny her anything when she employed a soft tone and his pet name from their youth. “Dolly, you promised I might marry whom I choose. I choose to marry Sir Toby.”
“For God’s sake, why?”
“For … several reasons.”
Not because she desired him, or because she’d allowed him to kiss her on the terrace.
Truly, that wasn’t it at all. It wasn’t.
“I want a marriage that will place me in the public notice and make me a lady of influence.” She gestured toward the stacked copies of The Prattler . “Sir Toby is perfect. All London takes an interest his exploits, he will soon serve in the House of Commons, and by Sophia’s own account he is a fine man.”
“Toby told you he would be serving in Parliament?” Sophia asked.
“Yes. Did he never mention it to you?”
“No.” She looked stunned.
Gray studied Bel for a moment, then put a hand to his temple. “Bel, it’s not that I—”
The sound of the doorbell interrupted them.
“That must be him.” Bel stood up again. Blood rushed to her head. Goodness, she’d been up and down so many times, she might as well have been in church. “Do I look well enough?”
She smoothed her hands over the skirt of her best day dress, a pale blue muslin frock trimmed with ivory lace.
“Bel, you are stunning, as always. You’ll take his breath away.” Ignoring Gray’s harrumph, Sophia took one bite of her toast and then set it aside. “Shall I come with you to greet him?”
“No,” Gray said in a tone of finality. “Bel, kindly go up to the nursery and ask Joss to meet me in my study. If Sir Toby Aldridge wants a glimpse of either of the breathtaking beauties in this house, he’ll have to get through me.”
“Sir Benedict.” Upon entering Grayson’s study, Toby made a courteous bow.
His gesture was not reciprocated. The brute narrowed his eyes at him. “Let’s not waste time pretending to like one
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