Staring at the large grandfather clock across the ballroom, she counted the minutes until she could be alone with him.
“Father, may I speak to you for a moment?” Bertram asked.
Her father let out a groan. “I will not discuss giving you more funds here. You’ve been far too irresponsible, and I won’t have you affecting Letty’s future.”
“Christopher,” her mother hissed, her gaze roaming frantically around the ballroom making sure no one was paying attention to them. “This is not the place to discuss such things.”
Letty’s father nodded. “Very well, come along Bertram and let’s find a quiet corner to discuss your needs.”
Once her brother and father were gone, Letty’s mother faced her. “Stop your mindless flirtation with the print shop keeper and focus on Baron Oakfield.”
“I won’t focus on Baron Oakfield. I have no intention of becoming a baroness.” Letty folded her arms, meeting her mother’s gaze. “Is a man with his own business not a good enough suitor for a former opera singer’s daughter?” She challenged, her temper rising at the audacity of her mother.
“You’re the daughter of an earl. You need to marry a man with a title and forget all this nonsense of starting a magazine,” she whispered passionately, bending over so only Letty and her sister could hear her. “If you won’t consider Oakfield, Lord Hendershot would be an excellent conquest. He’s quite pleasing to look at, even with the red hair.”
Letty rolled her eyes. Everyone knew that The Earl of Hendershot was in love with Madame Kitty Delcour, the owner of the scandalous Pleasure House. Another bit of information from her sister, of course.
“I do not want the earl, no matter how pleasing he is to look at.” She leaned into her mother, not caring who saw their bickering. “If I ever marry, it will be a man of my choosing and not because he’s titled or rich, but because I love him. Did you not marry for love, Mother, or have you forgotten?” Letty asked, before she walked away, not caring if she was making a scene in front of all of society.
Weaving through the swarm of bodies, Letty breathed a sigh of relief once she reached the line of chairs against the wall. There was comfort in being a wallflower. Not only did she not have to dance, but it gave her an escape from her mother.
“Mother is in a rare husband-finding mood this evening,” Cleo said, taking the empty seat beside Letty. “I fear your Mr. Meriweather is not up to snuff in her opinion.”
Hers?
Could he be hers? Is that what she wanted?
“He’s not mine,” she said, the words feeling like ink on her tongue.
She didn’t dare allow herself to hope for anything more between them than sensual kisses and harmless flirting. She lowered her head, trying to hide disappointment from her sister.
He was the first gentleman to speak with her in detail about her dreams of a magazine for women of color. The first to dance with her and not complain about how absolutely horrid she was. Instead, he helped her, told her which way to go, and led her effortlessly around the other dancers.
When Mac had discovered her in the library of her family home, he’d done the gentlemanly thing and apologized for intruding, but she’d insisted he stay—with the door open of course. That was how their easy camaraderie had begun, until it became more.
“The way you look at him would make one believe he is your Mr. Meriweather.” Cleo tilted her head, her deep dark gaze penetrating. “And let’s not forget what happened when he visited Crestview Manor.”
Letty let out a breathy sigh, counting down the seconds until she could feel his lips against hers again. “I have plans for my inheritance; you know that.”
A husband would of course expect her to be a dutiful wife. Perhaps he would try to control her inheritance or forbid her from starting her magazine. After her mother married her father, she abandoned her career as an opera singer. Letty could still see the longing in her eyes anytime they went to a performance.
Would Mac do such a thing? Letty couldn’t imagine he would, especially after what he’d said on the ballroom floor. However, she wasn’t willing to risk her dreams on a simple dalliance. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it while it lasted.
“Your plans do not have to change,” Cleo said, placing her gloved hand on Letty’s.
For as long as she could remember, Letty had always been fascinated with the power of the written word. The fact that you could gain any information from a book, periodical, or newspaper thrilled her. She wanted to create a magazine with a plethora of information for all women, but especially for those of African heritage. Former enslaved and freed women, the ones who had not been provided the same opportunities as she had been given.
“No gentleman will want a wife who works for a living. Father encourages me, but that does not mean a husband will as well.” She shook her head, voicing her deepest fears to her sister. “My first priority is to start my magazine, and there is much work to be done.” She pointed her finger to Cleo.
First, she had to gain access to her funds, find a location, a printing press, a staff, and reporters. She ticked off each thing in her head, knowing her detailed list by memory.
“I love you for wanting to pursue your dream. It gives me hope to not give up on mine.” The sadness in Cleo’s voice pulled at Letty’s heart. “You deserve to be happy, Letty. The right gentleman will love you and accept you.”
Letty couldn’t help the smile on her face as she wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder for a brief hug. She didn’t care if they were surrounded by London’s society, Cleo was right—there was no reason she couldn’t marry and follow her dream.
“You believe Mr. Meriweather is that man?” Letty asked, the hope in her voice clear to her own ears.
Cleo placed a finger to her lips in thought. “It doesn’t matter what I, Mother, or anyone else believes, does it?”
