sister.”
“Oh, I think I am.” She poked Faith’s arm. “What have I told you? Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve. Don’t let any man see you care for him, and don’t ever ever fall in love!”
“I’m not in love.”
Margaret sighed. “You are such a terrible liar, Faith. Your gaze follows him like a worshipful little puppy and he knows it. He probably encourages it.”
“I’m not unintelligent. I know he is not for me. Perhaps I am simply enjoying his company before I sink into the shadow of spinsterhood.”
Margaret patted her hand. “I won’t let that happen, Faith. I’ll make sure my husband finds a suitable husband for you too.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but maybe I don’t want to marry.”
“Not marry, and be beholden to your family for your room and board for the rest of your life? Obliged to tend to their sickness, their children, their orders? No woman wants that, love.”
Faith had no answer for that. She didn’t want to end up alone, but if she couldn’t have what she wanted—a man she could not only love, but respect and like, wouldn’t it be better than being married off to anyone who would have her?
Her father came in, followed by one of the footmen.
“Let’s go through to dinner, shall we?”
“But Lord Westbrook isn’t here yet,” Margaret said.
“He sent his excuses. He had to take an important letter into town for delivery to London by the Mail coach and he probably won’t be back until quite late.”
“Oh, well.” Margaret smiled beguilingly at one of the young men. “Perhaps you would escort me into dinner, Mr. Faircroft?”
Behind Faith, Robin Pelly made a huffing sound. She turned and found him scowling at her sister’s back.
“Damned popinjay.”
“Mr. Faircroft?” Faith took Robin’s reluctantly offered arm. “He seems a nice enough young man.”
“If you like an idiot with a head full of straw.”
“I believe he’s the heir to a viscount.”
“Which is why my cousin is fawning over him. I know how it is. Ever since she went up to London, her head’s been turned with all this stupid nonsense.”
“That’s not quite true, is it, Robin? She has always been quite open about wanting to marry a man with a title.”
“I thought it just words, I thought she’d—”
“Marry you? Maybe she will—if you stop glowering at her and treating her like a fool. She’s very young, Robin.”
“No, she wants none of me. She says I’ll never earn enough to keep her.”
“There is always hope. You certainly have excellent prospects at the Foreign Office.” Faith tried to sound encouraging, although she knew Robin’s chances of regaining her sister’s affections were remarkably slim. “Who knows, with the current war going on, perhaps your star will rise quickly and the king will reward your service with a title.”
“It still won’t be good enough for her.”
Robin drew out her chair, and Faith sat down and arranged her skirts.
“I’m sorry, Robin.”
His hard expression softened when he looked down at her. “It’s all right, Faith. It’s hardly your fault, is it? Please forgive my ramblings.”
“Of course.”
The meal seemed interminable without the prospect of seeing the Earl of Westbrook, as did the after-dinner games of cards and endless cups of tea. After a suitable interval passed, Faith asked to be excused, and made her way to the library to see if she could find any more books for the earl to read. Her mind was still too busy to allow her to sleep.
She also wanted to think about his offer to seduce her properly. Her words to Margaret had been true. She didn’t want to marry without respecting and loving her husband, and that seemed unlikely. Was she saving herself for an event that would never happen? Her mythical wedding night, when she married the man of her dreams? Except the earl was that man, and he’d already warned her more than once that he was a rake, and not to be trusted.
With a sigh, Faith put
“Oh, I think I am.” She poked Faith’s arm. “What have I told you? Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve. Don’t let any man see you care for him, and don’t ever ever fall in love!”
“I’m not in love.”
Margaret sighed. “You are such a terrible liar, Faith. Your gaze follows him like a worshipful little puppy and he knows it. He probably encourages it.”
“I’m not unintelligent. I know he is not for me. Perhaps I am simply enjoying his company before I sink into the shadow of spinsterhood.”
Margaret patted her hand. “I won’t let that happen, Faith. I’ll make sure my husband finds a suitable husband for you too.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but maybe I don’t want to marry.”
“Not marry, and be beholden to your family for your room and board for the rest of your life? Obliged to tend to their sickness, their children, their orders? No woman wants that, love.”
Faith had no answer for that. She didn’t want to end up alone, but if she couldn’t have what she wanted—a man she could not only love, but respect and like, wouldn’t it be better than being married off to anyone who would have her?
Her father came in, followed by one of the footmen.
“Let’s go through to dinner, shall we?”
“But Lord Westbrook isn’t here yet,” Margaret said.
“He sent his excuses. He had to take an important letter into town for delivery to London by the Mail coach and he probably won’t be back until quite late.”
“Oh, well.” Margaret smiled beguilingly at one of the young men. “Perhaps you would escort me into dinner, Mr. Faircroft?”
Behind Faith, Robin Pelly made a huffing sound. She turned and found him scowling at her sister’s back.
“Damned popinjay.”
“Mr. Faircroft?” Faith took Robin’s reluctantly offered arm. “He seems a nice enough young man.”
“If you like an idiot with a head full of straw.”
“I believe he’s the heir to a viscount.”
“Which is why my cousin is fawning over him. I know how it is. Ever since she went up to London, her head’s been turned with all this stupid nonsense.”
“That’s not quite true, is it, Robin? She has always been quite open about wanting to marry a man with a title.”
“I thought it just words, I thought she’d—”
“Marry you? Maybe she will—if you stop glowering at her and treating her like a fool. She’s very young, Robin.”
“No, she wants none of me. She says I’ll never earn enough to keep her.”
“There is always hope. You certainly have excellent prospects at the Foreign Office.” Faith tried to sound encouraging, although she knew Robin’s chances of regaining her sister’s affections were remarkably slim. “Who knows, with the current war going on, perhaps your star will rise quickly and the king will reward your service with a title.”
“It still won’t be good enough for her.”
Robin drew out her chair, and Faith sat down and arranged her skirts.
“I’m sorry, Robin.”
His hard expression softened when he looked down at her. “It’s all right, Faith. It’s hardly your fault, is it? Please forgive my ramblings.”
“Of course.”
The meal seemed interminable without the prospect of seeing the Earl of Westbrook, as did the after-dinner games of cards and endless cups of tea. After a suitable interval passed, Faith asked to be excused, and made her way to the library to see if she could find any more books for the earl to read. Her mind was still too busy to allow her to sleep.
She also wanted to think about his offer to seduce her properly. Her words to Margaret had been true. She didn’t want to marry without respecting and loving her husband, and that seemed unlikely. Was she saving herself for an event that would never happen? Her mythical wedding night, when she married the man of her dreams? Except the earl was that man, and he’d already warned her more than once that he was a rake, and not to be trusted.
With a sigh, Faith put
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