“What makes you think something is on my mind?”
“Perhaps the fact that I can see you thinking so hard it looks like you may combust at any moment.”
She glared. “If you must know, I was thinking that I may never forgive you.”
“Forgive me for what? Happening to be in the way of the war your feet have waged upon my shoes?”
She continued to glare but didn’t respond.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I will earn your forgiveness at some point. We have a lifetime for it after all.”
She grimaced. “Don’t remind me.”
“What’s the matter? I thought you’d be over the moon to wed a duke.”
“I’m sure my family is.”
“But not you?”
“I don’t see what there is to be excited about. We hardly know each other.”
“Then why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“Well what do you want to know?” The same as every gentleman, I’m sure.What kind of accomplishments I have and what connections I can bring to the marriage.
“Whatever you think is important.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because that alone tells me more about you than you just saying what you think I want to hear.”
“Then, I must admit, I hate dancing.”
He laughed, “And I must admit, I’m relieved to hear that.”
“Yes, this way I don’t need to worry about you tripping me again.”
“Its far better for both of our safety.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“But if you don’t like dancing, what do you like?”
She ducked her head with a small smile on her face. No one ever asked her that and meant it. “I like making lace. Mostly tatting, but I’ve done a little bobbin lace here and there. I actually made the trim on my own sleeves.”
“Truly?”
She nodded. “I know it isn’t the most usual hobby for someone to have. But I like how slow it is, and it’s nice to be able to add something to the gowns that someone else picks for me.”
He frowned, surprise on his face. “You don’t pick out your own gowns?”
She shook her head. The truth was her father had her mother order what they thought would make her seem the most appealing. They were always so worried about the family image, there was no room for her to express herself, but she couldn’t say that. She was a valued tool, but not a treasured daughter.
But her father would be deeply disappointed if he found out she said anything negative about her family.
Finally, she just said, “when you’re the oldest of four it’s just easier that way. After all, whatever’s bought for me is likely to work its way to one of their hands at some point. It’s better if whatever my parents choose is something the rest can be happy with.”
His frown deepened. “That doesn’t seem necessary.”
