Without another word, he left the room. Lady Tarryton followed. But before she rounded the doorframe, Imogen heard her mutter, “It won’t improve her lot one bit anyway.”
Chapter 9
Imogen felt a ripping in her chest. Her mother’s words were muttered low, too low for either her father or sister to hear. But Imogen heard them clear as day. And in that moment she knew, deep down, her mother was right.
In the grand scheme of things, being able to wear her spectacles in public was ridiculously trivial. It would not change the course her life was destined to take. Her future would still be at the mercy of others. Her place was with her parents, and after they went to their reward she would go to her siblings. Like an ugly heirloom vase no one really wanted but felt obliged to put on the mantle.
Mariah smiled and linked arms with her, dragging Imogen from her maudlin thoughts. “Well done,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”
Imogen forced her lips to turn up in what she suspected was a horrid imitation of a smile but seemed to appease her sister nonetheless. She should be happy, after all. She had won. But she wanted to cry. Never had she felt jealous of her sister, but in that moment she would have given much to trade places, to have Mariah’s possibilities, the ease that she had with others.
She was well past the age of possibilities, however.
Perhaps, she thought as they made their way to the ground floor, if she had something to hold on to, some wonderful memory, she would be able to move on with her life with a bit more grace. Perhaps if she had thrown herself into experiences when she was younger, had not been so rigid, she would have remembrances to warm her at night.
But she had nothing. And it was too late for her now, wasn’t it?
• • •
“I didn’t know your Miss Duncan wore spectacles, Willbridge.”
“She is not ‘my’ Miss Duncan,” Caleb replied by rote. But the small burst of pleasure at the phrase shocked him. How peculiar, he thought absently as he followed Tristan’s gaze toward the door. He stilled, for there stood Imogen, her eyes wide and luminous behind a delicate pair of spectacles.
She no longer wore the squinting, strained expression he associated with her. No, he thought in appreciation, the lines of her face were more relaxed now, softened. And even from his position across the room he could see how the thin wire frames accented her beautiful turquoise eyes.
He had thought her pretty before, but now she was, quite simply, lovely.
“They suit her.”
Caleb frowned as Morley’s voice broke through his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”
His friend waved one hand vaguely in front of his face. “The spectacles. They are not at all the thing, of course. But they suit her.”
Tristan nodded thoughtfully, a faintly quizzical look on his face as he stared at Imogen. “They do. Funny how I never noticed those eyes of hers before now.”
Caleb watched his two lifelong friends studying Imogen and fought the sudden and swift desire to slam their heads together. What the devil was wrong with him? They were only observing her improved appearance, not making lecherous comments about her.
He glanced in Imogen’s direction once more. She had just noticed him, and as their eyes met she attempted a smile. But it was a pathetic thing at best. Forgetting his friends, his promise to take care with her reputation, even the room full of people between them, Caleb went immediately to her.
The first thing he noticed was how much larger her eyes were. Their color was intensified behind the lenses of her spectacles, and he was struck dumb. He simply stared down at her in silence, feeling that incredible blue-green loveliness clear to his toes.
But the sadness on her face finally broke through his muddled brain. She was striving to hide it, but it was there all the same.
“What is it?” he asked in a low voice.
She only shook her head, her throat working as she swallowed hard.
“Tell me.”
“It is nothing,” she replied. The slight frown marring her brow, however, told a different story.
“You are an abysmal actress, did you know that?”
She sputtered on a bit of startled laughter but sobered quickly. “I cannot talk about it here,” she whispered. Her eyes slid to the side. Her mother was close by, talking animatedly with several other matrons.
All of a sudden Imogen’s expression changed. She studied him with a peculiar intensity.
He leaned closer and raised one eyebrow.
