She leapt to her feet, then second-guessed herself. Was she supposed to remain seated? Or, given the size of the parlor, was it best for them all to mill about on foot rather than demonstrate the lack of sufficient seating?
“I’ll get it,” said Mother.
Father harrumphed and set down his paper.
Gladys pinched her cheeks and plumped her bosom as surreptitiously as she could.
“How do I look?” she whispered to Kitty.
“Beautiful,” answered Kitty. “Like you always do.”
Only a sister would think so was Gladys’s usual rejoinder, but for once, it was no longer true. Handsome Reuben Medford found Gladys desirable. In his arms, she’d actually felt beautiful for the first time in her life.
“Oh!” Mother exclaimed through the cracked door. “It’s you!”
Gladys beamed.
Mother opened the door fully and stepped aside. Mr. Alsop stepped into the room.
Gladys’s heart bottomed. She took an involuntary step backwards and tripped onto the sofa cushion with a whoosh.
“I’ve come to speak to Mr. Bell, if I could please,” said Mr. Alsop.
Father rose to his feet and tossed his rolled newspaper onto the armchair. “About which of my daughters?”
Mr. Alsop’s eyes passed over Gladys to rest longingly on Kitty. It was not Kitty’s fault. She could not help her beauty any more than Gladys could help her plainness. Gladys had just hoped that today, at least, just for a moment… she could be the important one.
Alsop wrested his gaze back to their father, then swallowed and said, “The eldest, sir.”
Gladys clenched her fists. It had been the wrong question. Alsop wasn’t here for her at all. He wanted the Welsh land at all costs. She was right to think Medford ought to double the price. Perhaps even triple it.
Mr. Medford hadn’t made her feel like a pile of dirt that came along with the castle. As soon as he arrived as promised, he’d make her forget absolutely everything except being in his arms.
“This is a wonderful surprise,” gushed Mother, sending congratulatory glances toward Gladys.
“Not that much of a surprise,” said Father, holding out his hand to shake Mr. Alsop’s. “Am I wrong to suppose a certain property in Wales factored into your decision making?”
“Rupert!” Mother scolded him. “The girls are right here.”
Neither one of which was a stranger to how aristocratic marriage marts were supposed to work: Exactly like this. Gladys swallowed her humiliation.
“Marrywell was supposed to be different,” Kitty whispered. “This festival makes love matches.”
“Mine will be here any moment,” Gladys said with significantly less confidence than she felt.
Mr. Medford must have fallen ill. Or broken his ankle. Or rushed home to aid his ailing mother.
“If I’d known you were coming, I would have drawn up a contract,” said Father.
Mr. Alsop cast an irritated glance toward Gladys. “One might have expected you’d alert your father to expect me. Seeing as you gave your permission twelve hours ago—”
“I rescind it,” said Gladys.
“What?” everyone else in the room gasped in unison.
Kitty looked shocked. Mother looked horrified. Father looked confused.
And Mr. Alsop looked absolutely furious. “You cannot rescind it.”
