She cuddled Duke close to keep the shivers at bay. Nothing was scarier than thehaut ton.
Thousands of perfect, elegant people with high expectations, who believed themselves placed upon this earth to point out each other’s flaws and rule over the rest.
Worst of all, the smart set preferred to do so in crowded, noisy places, filled with the stench of too many perfumes and the elbows of too many bodies and the glittering lights of too many crystal chandeliers. All that, whilst being expected to live up to an unwritten standard.
If London was Virginia’s personal hell, Christmas was heaven on earth.
Here, she was not required to attend any gatherings unless she so wished. She was free to stick to quiet corners, or to stay close to a good friend. If the public dining area was too loud, the kitchen could send a tray to her room. Or she could enjoy a light repast in the park, surrounded by nature.
She didn’t have to make herself perfect for Christmas. Christmas was already perfect for her.
“Is that why you want to attend the Season?” she asked. “You miss your friends?”
“And to officially ask for the hand of my intended,” he admitted.
Her stomach dropped. “You have an intended?”
“No.” His face twisted. “Not yet. Our fathers planned the match without our consent when we were children.”
“Why consent now?”
“Father wants what is best for—” Theodore cleared his throat. “My responsibility is to secure a perfect wife. Beatrice will be one. We’ll do as duty requires.”
Beatrice.
Virginia cuddled Duke close. She had not wanted to know the intended’s name.
Nor had she wished to know that Theodore considered acquiring a “perfect” wife to be a reasonable and achievable goal. He had managed to find this wonder of womanhood decades ago. An incredible length of time. Longer than any one person had ever stayed in Virginia’s life.
“Do you love her?” she asked softly.
“No,” he answered without hesitation. “She holds no tender feelings for me, either. It doesn’t matter. Once we have sons, we’ll both be free to do as we please.”
Virginia was aware that members of Society did not often wed for love, and that many harbored no pretenses toward monogamy, so long as one was properly discreet about one’s extramarital activities.
Her heart twisted to think that such a future was all that awaited Theodore. He was nicer than the rest. He deserved to find a wife who liked him. Someone he liked in return.
“Is that why you are in a hurry to heal?” she asked. “Because she’s expecting you in London?”
“I am in a hurry to heal because half my body hurts like the devil. As for London…” He tightened his jaw for a long moment. “Are you able to keep a secret?”
“I oftenamthe secret.” She sat Duke on the floor. “What do you need?”
His brow furrowed, but then he pulled a folded letter from inside his jacket. “Can you hide this in your basket and post it from the castle without anyone seeing you?”
“Of course.” She scooped up her empty basket and slipped the letter inside. “I’ll do so at once.”
Even if it was a letter to Beatrice.
Virginia retrieved her coat and hurried from the room before she could change her mind.
She set down the basket by the front door only long enough to slip her arms into her coat and fasten the buttons, then picked up the basket and made her way back up the hill.
Halfway to the castle, she could not stand the suspense any longer. She fished the letter from the basket and flipped it over to read the direction.
The neat penmanship did not say “Beatrice” anything. The letter was addressed to a Lord Ramsbury.
Virginia shoved it back into the basket in embarrassment. She should not have looked. Who Theodore chose to correspond with should not signify.
