“I have a fancy life now, Mum. I’m happy, more than happy actually.”
“But it’ll get even fancier. I’ve wanted this for you for so long. It’s a dream come true, you know? To see my gel treated like royalty.”
She was a long way from that, although she’d certainly felt special the last time that she was in Mr. Sommersby’s company. She was rather glad they’d sorted things between them. “I know, Mum.”
“You’ll win them all over.”
“I shall certainly try.” Then because she didn’t want to think about her upcoming introduction into Society, she turned to Aiden’s wife, Selena. “How are your sisters enjoying Europe?”
Selena had three sisters. Constance and Florence were twins, the same age as Fancy. Alice was seventeen. Her brother was the Earl of Camberley.
Selena smiled softly. “Based on the letters I’ve received, they are having a marvelous time. The twins are worried they’ll be a bit long in the tooth to make a good match when they have their coming out next year, but they understand the wisdom in waiting. They’ll have a more successful Season once Camberley has put himself and his estates to rights.” Reaching over, she rubbed her husband’s hand, bestowing upon him an expression of warmth, love, and gratitude because he was responsible for ensuring her brother got his financial affairs in order so he could regain his standing among theton.
“I do hope you’ll give them my best when you write them. And who knows? If all goes well for me this year, I’ll host a ball in their honor upon their return.” The twins were to have had their coming out the year before but when Selena’s husband had passed, they’d all observed a proper mourning period. While Selena’s morals were now questioned since she’d married within a few months of her husband’s death, having been a duchess for years, she knew how to project power. Her sisters weren’t going to suffer overly much because of her scandal. What was one scandal in a family that hadn’t any? Whereas Fancy’s family was one of naught but scandal—whether it revolved around the circumstances of their birth or the roads they’d traveled in life. Each had then brought scandal to the one they’d chosen to marry. Born in sin, raised in sin, it seemed they were all destined to die in sin. Every season marked them as sinners.
No matter that their mother read her Bible every day. Several times they’d tried to convince her to take on a maid-for-all-work at least, possibly a cook. But she refused anything that would make her life easier. Sometimes, Fancy wondered if her mum was punishing herself for some reason.
She’d been unable to object, however, when the lads had gutted the residence and rebuilt a warm and comforting abode within. Nor could she stop them from having coal delivered on a regular basis. Shop owners extended her mum all the credit she required because they knew the Trewlove siblings would make good on any debts owed. Fancy wasn’t yet in a position to make much difference, but when she married, she could carry a greater portion of her share. Perhaps she could even convince her mum to move in with her so she could spoil her, if she married a man who would be so generous. That was her goal, to find a man who would not only accept her but accept her family.
After the meal, when her siblings’ children had awakened from their nap, Fancy played with them, imagining it was likely she’d have her own child within the year. Lords were keen to gain their heir as soon as possible, and she was determined to be a good and dutiful wife. But when she thought of the boy she might deliver to her husband, she imagined him with dark hair and striking green eyes.
Walking into her shop later in the afternoon, Fancy couldn’t help but think of Mr. Sommersby and how a misunderstanding had nearly led to them not becoming friends. Although perhaps she was being overly optimistic there, and they were more acquaintances than friends. She rather wished he’d be at the ball—a familiar face among the crowd. A gentleman of leisure, he might be welcomed. Although as he was residing here and not in a more exclusive fashionable area, it was doubtful he associated with the aristocracy.
No, if she was to spend any more time with him, it would have to be here. Although perhaps she’d enjoyed their evening together far more than he had. At one point, as his thumb had traveled over her face, she’d thought he was on the verge of kissing her. Had wanted him to. Out of desire more than anything, but also curiosity. She didn’t want to be a complete innocent when she made her debut. She was well aware the men who would dance with her had no doubt kissed a staggering number of women. They wouldn’t be judged as immoral. But women, women were supposed to remain pure, untouched, pristine. But sometimes she had an urge to get a little dirty.
However as a by-blow, she’d never be seen as pure. She might as well do a little something to earn the judgment. Perhaps she should have kissed him, rebelled just a little.
But she wanted to do nothing to put her own dream at risk, her dream of finding a man who would love her, in spite of her beginnings. Her only fear was that a time might come when she would have to choose between fulfilling her mother’s dream or her own. It caused a roiling in her stomach to even contemplate marrying a man she didn’t love. Taking into her body a man who stirred nothing in her heart would in all likelihood destroy her.
As though sensing her morose thoughts, Dickens rubbed up against her leg. Bending down, she lifted him into her arms. “I’m being a silly chit, worrying about things that might never be. I must make the most of my freedom while I have it. And it’s a glorious day outside.”
She climbed the stairs to her lodgings, set Dickens on the bed, and proceeded to change out of the elegant frock she’d worn to church into something with fewer flounces. She pinned a smaller hat into place. The wind had nearly ripped the broad-brimmed one from her head as she and her mum had walked home from church. A smaller one would serve better.
Taking her key from her reticule, she slipped the brass into her pocket. Strolling over to the corner, she picked up her kite. Dickens mewled. Meandering by him, she gave his head a quick scratch. “Yes, I’m going out for a while.”
Once outside, she walked past the mews and the street upon which Mr. Sommersby lived, carrying on past other streets and residences until she reached the park. Mick had set aside several acres of land where people could take a leisurely stroll or children could play without worrying about being trampled. A pond had been created in the center of it, saplings planted here and there that would eventually provide shade.
She sought the open area where already kites were soaring. Lifting hers, she tested the wind before taking a quick jaunt, hearing the snap of the breeze catching her kite, feeling the tug. Reeling out the spool of string, she slowed, finally stopped, and watched as the kite took flight, wishing she could be up there soaring with it. As excited as she was about the coming ball, she dreaded it as well, feared disappointing her family, disappointing herself. What if no lord—
“Are those books on your kite?”
Swinging her head around, she was taken aback by the joy that spiraled through her at the sight of Matthew Sommersby standing beside her, gazing on her almost affectionately. The thick carpet of grass had muted his approach. “My brother Aiden painted them on the paper for me. He’s terribly skilled, created all the framed artwork in my shop.” And she was babbling. “You didn’t dine at the Jolly Roger last night.”
“No. I dined at my sister’s.”
“You have a sister?” For some reason, she’d had the impression of him being all alone in the world.
“I do. She’s older. Can be a bit dictatorial and interfering at times.”
As the youngest in her family, she could certainly relate. “Was she so last night?”
He chuckled low, and it was a sound that reached deep within her to warm her soul. “She was, as a matter of fact. Took me to task on a number of matters.”
“Will you avoid her, then?”
“No. It’s only the two of us now, as our mother has also passed. My sister is married to a good man. Has a daughter. A rambunctious little thing. It occurred to me too late that I should have stopped in your shop and purchased her a book. I shall remedy that the next time I go to visit.”
“I look forward to helping you select the most perfect book.” But then she was beginning to realize she looked forward to any excuse to be in his company. Not wanting to give him a reason to move on, she asked, “Do you not have a kite?”
