She closed her book and set it aside. Artemis noticed the title—Sense and Sensibility. “Are you an avid reader of Miss Austen’s books?”
Lady Gwyneth’s smile turned mildly sheepish and altogether charming. “I am,” she said. “This is my third time readingSense and Sensibility.” She became thoughtful. “It was my favorite of Miss Austen’s books for years, but with this reading I must confess that I find that Miss Marianne Dashwood is trying my nerves.”
“Is that so?” Artemis reached for a ginger biscuit. “I thought all young ladies were partial to Marianne.” She certainly had been so when she’d read the novel a decade ago.
Lady Gwyneth’s brow creased with the fervor of the newly converted. “For most of the book, she’s a complete dunderhead who lacks all care for the practicalities of life.” A sheepish laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “Listen to me go on about a fictional character as if she were a real person.”
Artemis smiled along with her. “Well, we spend hours with those characters when we read, don’t we? Characters become our intimates, in a way.”
Lady Gwyneth nodded, as if giving the matter her full consideration. A quality very like her brother. “That’s an interesting way of viewing it.”
Artemis found she very much liked Lady Gwyneth and understood Bran’s need to secure her future. “Are you excited about your London season next spring?”
In the blink of an eye, Lady Gwyneth’s entire demeanor changed from open to reserved. “I am.”
Artemis felt her eyebrows wanting to lift and somehow held them in place. But really, what was this?
“Actually …” Lady Gwyneth sat forward and lowered her voice. “I don’t care all that much about having a season.”
No longer would the lift of Artemis’s eyebrows be suppressed. “That is unexpected.”
It was as neutral an answer as she was capable of.
Bran was working to move heaven and earth in service to this dream, and Lady Gwyneth didn’t want it?
Some of what Artemis was feeling must have shown on her face, for Lady Gwyneth said hastily, “Really, it’s gone too far.” She exhaled a delicate sigh. “I only made a fuss over not having a season because Stoke deserves it. When he finished squandering what little fortune Papa had, he set to work on my dowry. Probably took him all of the roll of a pair of dice.” Earnestly, she continued, “I never intended for Bran to become involved and take the responsibility on himself, for he is not to blame for our family’s reversal of fortune. Far from it, in fact. Without the monies he sent home over the years, I likely would have starved, for all the care Stoke showed me.”
“Forgive me, Lady Gwyneth, but I don’t understand.” Artemis shook her head. “Given those circumstances, why wouldn’t you want a season?”
A light blush pinked Lady Gwyneth’s cheeks. “There is a baron—Sir Charles Hadley—whose lands adjoin Stoke’s, and he’s offered for me.”
As Artemis was trying her best to appear impartial, she adopted a light, teasing tone. “According to Stoke, every eligible gentleman within fifty miles has offered for you.”
Lady Gwyneth’s blush deepened. “Unlike those other gentlemen, Charlie is of an age with me—fewer than ten years older—and I like him enormously.”
“Like?”
Lady Gwyneth’s gaze lowered as the blush crept down her neck. “We are in love, Lady Artemis.”
Now Artemis felt she could draw breath again. Merelikingwas a little too pragmatic a reason for marriage for her comfort. Lady Gwyneth was young and vivacious and sensible. Why couldn’t she be both Marianne and Elinor?
“How wonderful for you, Lady Gwyneth,” said Artemis, sincerely. “I offer you my heartfelt congratulations.”
Lady Gwyneth smiled with the happiness of a young woman in love. “I’ll be telling Bran as soon as I find the right moment.”
Artemis couldn’t help but be impressed by how sweet and sensible Bran’s sister was.
Lady Gwyneth’s head tipped to the side. “You and Bran have a past, correct?”
Artemis startled, nearly spilling the tea she’d just lifted. “What gives you that idea?”
“You don’t speak to one another like the recently acquainted.”
Well.
Before Artemis could formulate a reply—neitherrecentlynoracquaintedcorrectly characterized her dealings with Bran—Lady Gwyneth continued. “The way you defended him against Stoke this morning?—”
“Oh, that was less defense than me speaking my mind,” interrupted Artemis. “I can get carried away.”
