table. I’ve heard the Radcliffes have a
carved-ice swan for the centerpiece that’s supposed to
be magnificent.”
Several other young women strolled the perimeter
of the room with their friends, heads close together as
they chatted. It was the perfect ruse for sharing gossip
and showing off one’s lovely gown all at the same time.
Marianne sensed that Roberta Farnwick was disposed to use the activity for the same reason, although she
couldn’t imagine what Roberta would want to gossip
about with her. After all, Roberta was not a close acquaintance.
They passed the long tables of refreshments set
against the far wall out of the way of the performance
area and made the obligatory comments about the ice
swan. A length of silence fell as their conversation diminished. Marianne had no idea how she’d fill the
time until their walk was completed. She didn’t know
Roberta all that well and she’d exhausted her store of
small talk. She needn’t have worried.
Roberta had things to say. “Miss Addison, you are
new to London, and as such is the case, I feel I must
inform you of some bad news,” Roberta said, her voice
so quiet that Marianne had to lean quite close to pick
up the other girl’s words. “The viscount is not exactly
an eligible parti, my dear.” Roberta fussed with the
fan hanging from her left wrist. “This is so difficult to
say, but you must know. He’s all but betrothed to a
Miss Sarah Stewart, who prefers to stay in the country. It’s not official but everyone knows his mother and
her father have been promoting this match for eons.
Their estates share a border.”
A cold pit formed in Marianne’s stomach. Alasdair
was to marry another? Everyone knew? It did come as
something of a shock. Surely he would have mentioned
it. Then again, mentioning it may not have crossed his
mind. If everyone knew, he probably felt there was no reason to bring it up. It could be easy to forget that
newcomers wouldn’t know something that had become de rigueur for everyone else.
And why bring it up when it wasn’t relevant to their
friendship? If she was disappointed by the news, it was
her fault. He’d not spoken outright of any desire to
court her, nor had he spoken any inappropriate words
of love. There were no expectations except the ones
she’d created in her head, and even those certainly had
not gone as far as marriage. She simply enjoyed being
with him. She’d come to count on his friendship-that
was all. Roberta Farnwick simply misunderstood the
situation.
“I am happy for him, then,” Marianne replied. “I
didn’t know, of course, being so new to Town. The viscount has been a good friend to me during our brief acquaintance. I would wish nothing but the best for him.”
She wanted to be clear with Roberta as to exactly
what the status of her relationship to Pennington was.
Perhaps she also wanted to be clear with herself, just
so her heart and mind didn’t misunderstand one another.
Roberta stifled a laugh. “Friend? My dear, since
when have men and women been friends? It’s simply
not done. What’s the point anyway? After one marries, one has to give up their friends. No husband keeps
female friends and no wife I know of keeps any male
friends, if she had any in the first place. Hardly makes
it worthwhile.” She looked slyly at Marianne. “Besides, I don’t believe the `friend’ bit and neither do the social
columns. Have you seen the latest World?”
Marianne looked puzzled. She occasionally read
the Society papers upon her mother’s recommendation
that she keep up with the goings-on about Town, but she
hadn’t gotten into the habit of reading them daily. She
had, however, met some ladies who waited earnestly for
the new editions to arrive.
Roberta dug into the reticule she carried. “I clipped
this out for you, in case you hadn’t seen it.” She handed
Marianne a small piece of newsprint.
Marianne scanned the little scrap
carved-ice swan for the centerpiece that’s supposed to
be magnificent.”
Several other young women strolled the perimeter
of the room with their friends, heads close together as
they chatted. It was the perfect ruse for sharing gossip
and showing off one’s lovely gown all at the same time.
Marianne sensed that Roberta Farnwick was disposed to use the activity for the same reason, although she
couldn’t imagine what Roberta would want to gossip
about with her. After all, Roberta was not a close acquaintance.
They passed the long tables of refreshments set
against the far wall out of the way of the performance
area and made the obligatory comments about the ice
swan. A length of silence fell as their conversation diminished. Marianne had no idea how she’d fill the
time until their walk was completed. She didn’t know
Roberta all that well and she’d exhausted her store of
small talk. She needn’t have worried.
Roberta had things to say. “Miss Addison, you are
new to London, and as such is the case, I feel I must
inform you of some bad news,” Roberta said, her voice
so quiet that Marianne had to lean quite close to pick
up the other girl’s words. “The viscount is not exactly
an eligible parti, my dear.” Roberta fussed with the
fan hanging from her left wrist. “This is so difficult to
say, but you must know. He’s all but betrothed to a
Miss Sarah Stewart, who prefers to stay in the country. It’s not official but everyone knows his mother and
her father have been promoting this match for eons.
Their estates share a border.”
A cold pit formed in Marianne’s stomach. Alasdair
was to marry another? Everyone knew? It did come as
something of a shock. Surely he would have mentioned
it. Then again, mentioning it may not have crossed his
mind. If everyone knew, he probably felt there was no reason to bring it up. It could be easy to forget that
newcomers wouldn’t know something that had become de rigueur for everyone else.
And why bring it up when it wasn’t relevant to their
friendship? If she was disappointed by the news, it was
her fault. He’d not spoken outright of any desire to
court her, nor had he spoken any inappropriate words
of love. There were no expectations except the ones
she’d created in her head, and even those certainly had
not gone as far as marriage. She simply enjoyed being
with him. She’d come to count on his friendship-that
was all. Roberta Farnwick simply misunderstood the
situation.
“I am happy for him, then,” Marianne replied. “I
didn’t know, of course, being so new to Town. The viscount has been a good friend to me during our brief acquaintance. I would wish nothing but the best for him.”
She wanted to be clear with Roberta as to exactly
what the status of her relationship to Pennington was.
Perhaps she also wanted to be clear with herself, just
so her heart and mind didn’t misunderstand one another.
Roberta stifled a laugh. “Friend? My dear, since
when have men and women been friends? It’s simply
not done. What’s the point anyway? After one marries, one has to give up their friends. No husband keeps
female friends and no wife I know of keeps any male
friends, if she had any in the first place. Hardly makes
it worthwhile.” She looked slyly at Marianne. “Besides, I don’t believe the `friend’ bit and neither do the social
columns. Have you seen the latest World?”
Marianne looked puzzled. She occasionally read
the Society papers upon her mother’s recommendation
that she keep up with the goings-on about Town, but she
hadn’t gotten into the habit of reading them daily. She
had, however, met some ladies who waited earnestly for
the new editions to arrive.
Roberta dug into the reticule she carried. “I clipped
this out for you, in case you hadn’t seen it.” She handed
Marianne a small piece of newsprint.
Marianne scanned the little scrap
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