“Right,” Seraphina added, quickly, “Widowhood would be right around the corner!”
The five of them burst into giggles; something Ophelia realized she desperately needed. There had not been much laughter in her life since her father’s episode.
“Well what are you looking for in a husband?” Theo asked.
Ophelia thought for a moment.
“Someone older than me, but not decrepit. Financially responsible. Sensible. However not too stern or old-fashioned. Well-educated, but not boorish. Kind, but not a dandy. I do not want someone I can walk all over. Yet I do not want someone who would force me down either. I would not mind a husband that travels often. I do find comfort in my alone time. Taller, too. I am sure I shall have to kiss him at some point and I do not want to bend down to do so.”
Her friends burst into laughter, and Ophelia whirled away from the dress with a curious brow.
“For someone who has never wanted a husband you certainly have a detailed list of requirements for one,” Amelia pointed out.
“Oh,” Ophelia said, then laughed as she turned back to the dresses.
She wasn’t sure what to say. Her friends were right. In fact she was not at all sure where such a list had come from. It seemed to just form in her mind on the spot.
A midnight blue dress caught her attention then, and her thoughts suddenly shifted to a startling possibility.Had she just listed off Tristan’s attributes?
“That one?”
Ophelia shook herself from her thoughts and found Theo looking at her.
“What?” She asked.
“The dress you are staring at,” Theo said, nodding toward it. “Do you like it?”
“Oh,” Ophelia sighed. She stepped toward the dress to take a better look at it, not wanting to admit that it was simply the color that had caught her attention.
It was a beautiful color, the exact shade as the one Tristan had made for her to wear to the Masquerade, and made of silk brocade. The design of the bodice bared the shoulders, but had long, fitted sleeves that drew down to a point at the hands. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and had none of the attributes that Ophelia abhorred.
“Yes,” she said, reaching out to stroke her fingertips along the bodice, “Yes, I suppose I do. Perhaps add a fur trim around the neckline.”
“That is what I was thinking as well!” Theo said excitedly.
An hour later, with her fitting and request for a matching dyed fur trim noted down by Mrs. Tate, the five of them left the modiste and strolled contently down the street. Ophelia knew she needed to get home. Needed to make sure her father was comfortable and was eating, but she was welcoming the brief distraction.
It had been four days since her last summoning to the Masquerade, and she had been going a bit mad with worry as she either kept to her father’s side or continued on organizing his files on her own.
She wondered, suddenly, why it had been so long since she had heard from Tristan. Had the assailant come back? Had there been trouble? Or had she pushed her luck with Tristan? They were not usually in the business of telling each other their lives and perhaps her questions had pushed him a bit too far.
“You need not worry so much,” Rose said, pulling her from her thoughts.
Ophelia looked over to her friend, forcing a smile.
“Oh, I am not sure about that,” she replied, “I am old now. Every man in our society wants a fresh daisy. I am an old, thorn-filled rose bush.”
“While I normally appreciate your blunt tongue, my darling, I simply must protest that statement,” Rose said, her tone lacking of any amusement.
“Yes, when did you start agreeing to society’s standard?,” Theo added.
“Seven and twenty is still very young,” Seraphina noted.
“And you have never looked more beautiful,” Amelia chimed in.
“You are all lovely and kind and I thank you for your words,” Ophelia replied, “but I am not some foolish young girl. I have a mirror. I know I look ages older than those on the marriage mart.”
It wasn’t just her physical age she spoke of. The responsibility of taking over her father’s estate had aged her spirit. She’d once spoken often of her spinster home in the country, but every year her father slid their family further and further into debt, a part of that dream faded. Now that dream truly was gone, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
