Arabella’s heart sank even as it had risen moments before.
“Mademoiselle Juliette is a marvel.”
She had to be something extraordinary if she was responsible for Lady Lippet’s current ensemble.
“I would be grateful if you would be so good as to importune this Mademoiselle to be quick. I would not be longer in London than I must.”
“These things take time, Wattles, if we are to make the best possible match. Unless there is some reason for haste?”
“No, there is not,” Arabella said firmly.
Lady Lippet started a little, as if she had forgotten that the subject of the conversation wasin the room. She quickly turned her attention back to the earl. “Then there are two ways to proceed. I will be happy to give a dinner party for her, and we can hope other invitations will follow. Or …”
“Or?” Lord Barrsettshire demanded.
“Or we could go to the theater and show her off to many at once.”
“The theater?” Arabella cried happily.
She had long wished to see a play performed. Her father had denounced plays as works of Satan, yet she thought they sounded harmless enough. As she had been tempted to say to her father, if a person’s morals could be harmed by a play, it was likely they were not very sound to begin with.
And what if the king came? King Charles enjoyed the theater. Indeed, he was a patron.
Surely that would be too much to expect.
She realized Lord Barrsettshire was giving her a condemning glance worthy of her late father.
“Perhaps the theater is too wicked,” she said, trying to sound more subdued.
“Nonsense! The theater is no more wicked than any other place where courtiers gather,” Lady Lippet said, as if Arabella had insulted her personally. “I assure you, Wattles, it will be the best thing if you wish a speedy marriage.”
“Must we make such haste, my lord?” Arabellaasked. “Would it not be better for me to have some time to learn about the man I am to marry?
“Do you want to be a spinster all your life?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then I see no reason for delay. We must find you a nobleman with sense, if there is such a thing in this terrible place.”
“A nobleman? I assure you, my lord, I do not aspire to a nobleman,” Arabella said. “Indeed, I am most certain one of them will not suit my temperament. I would prefer a more modest man. Perhaps a banker or merchant—”
The earl bolted from his chair as if he had been shot.
“A merchant?” he thundered. “The daughter of the Duke of Bellhurst marry a merchant?”
“My father tried to renounce his title,” she reminded him.
“That does not matter!” the earl retorted as he threw himself back into the chair like a cranky child. “To allow you to marry anyone below the rank of viscount would be an abomination! It would be anarchy!”
The earl’s son was a viscount, which was utterly unimportant.
“My lord, naturally I would be extremely flattered to have such a man court me. However, I think we must be practical. My fathergave the bulk of his estate to his church when he converted to Puritanism.”
“You are rich, nonetheless, and of noble rank.”
“Rich?” she asked, bewildered.
“Your fortune left by your father is ten thousand pounds.”
While Lady Lippet’s falsely black eyebrows rose to amazing heights, Arabella stared at him in stunned disbelief. “How … can this be?”
Her father had prided himself on his frugality, even though a Puritan was not supposed to be proud. He had counted every penny when she went to market and chastised her for vanity if she so much as bought a ribbon for her hair. He even begrudged candles, always claiming rushlights would do.
“Ten thousand pounds?” she whispered. “He always said he intended to leave what money he had left to the church, too.”
“Obviously, he wisely reconsidered,” Lady Lippet exclaimed. “Why, with that sort of fortune, a title, and your own loveliness, it should be ease itself to find a good husband!”
“With
“Mademoiselle Juliette is a marvel.”
She had to be something extraordinary if she was responsible for Lady Lippet’s current ensemble.
“I would be grateful if you would be so good as to importune this Mademoiselle to be quick. I would not be longer in London than I must.”
“These things take time, Wattles, if we are to make the best possible match. Unless there is some reason for haste?”
“No, there is not,” Arabella said firmly.
Lady Lippet started a little, as if she had forgotten that the subject of the conversation wasin the room. She quickly turned her attention back to the earl. “Then there are two ways to proceed. I will be happy to give a dinner party for her, and we can hope other invitations will follow. Or …”
“Or?” Lord Barrsettshire demanded.
“Or we could go to the theater and show her off to many at once.”
“The theater?” Arabella cried happily.
She had long wished to see a play performed. Her father had denounced plays as works of Satan, yet she thought they sounded harmless enough. As she had been tempted to say to her father, if a person’s morals could be harmed by a play, it was likely they were not very sound to begin with.
And what if the king came? King Charles enjoyed the theater. Indeed, he was a patron.
Surely that would be too much to expect.
She realized Lord Barrsettshire was giving her a condemning glance worthy of her late father.
“Perhaps the theater is too wicked,” she said, trying to sound more subdued.
“Nonsense! The theater is no more wicked than any other place where courtiers gather,” Lady Lippet said, as if Arabella had insulted her personally. “I assure you, Wattles, it will be the best thing if you wish a speedy marriage.”
“Must we make such haste, my lord?” Arabellaasked. “Would it not be better for me to have some time to learn about the man I am to marry?
“Do you want to be a spinster all your life?”
“No, my lord.”
“Then I see no reason for delay. We must find you a nobleman with sense, if there is such a thing in this terrible place.”
“A nobleman? I assure you, my lord, I do not aspire to a nobleman,” Arabella said. “Indeed, I am most certain one of them will not suit my temperament. I would prefer a more modest man. Perhaps a banker or merchant—”
The earl bolted from his chair as if he had been shot.
“A merchant?” he thundered. “The daughter of the Duke of Bellhurst marry a merchant?”
“My father tried to renounce his title,” she reminded him.
“That does not matter!” the earl retorted as he threw himself back into the chair like a cranky child. “To allow you to marry anyone below the rank of viscount would be an abomination! It would be anarchy!”
The earl’s son was a viscount, which was utterly unimportant.
“My lord, naturally I would be extremely flattered to have such a man court me. However, I think we must be practical. My fathergave the bulk of his estate to his church when he converted to Puritanism.”
“You are rich, nonetheless, and of noble rank.”
“Rich?” she asked, bewildered.
“Your fortune left by your father is ten thousand pounds.”
While Lady Lippet’s falsely black eyebrows rose to amazing heights, Arabella stared at him in stunned disbelief. “How … can this be?”
Her father had prided himself on his frugality, even though a Puritan was not supposed to be proud. He had counted every penny when she went to market and chastised her for vanity if she so much as bought a ribbon for her hair. He even begrudged candles, always claiming rushlights would do.
“Ten thousand pounds?” she whispered. “He always said he intended to leave what money he had left to the church, too.”
“Obviously, he wisely reconsidered,” Lady Lippet exclaimed. “Why, with that sort of fortune, a title, and your own loveliness, it should be ease itself to find a good husband!”
“With
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