“But...”
But Ariana remembered being stared at, and being the butt of remarks and even jokes, when all she’d wanted was to be overlooked. Given her height, hardly anyone ever overlooked her. It was no wonder that she’d failed to “take,” as they said. There’d certainly been no offer of marriage.
“Don’t let your previous experience color the present, dear. You were too young. I should never have agreed, but it was another piece of advice from your grandmother, and your father generally paid heed to her. She advised us to get you wed before you grew any taller.”
That had been the most miserable period of her life, and some parts of it she’d never forget. The overheard comments, and the sudden silence when she’d entered a ladies’ convenience room.
The awkwardness of dancing with men shorter than herself.
The cartoon displayed in shopwindows, which played upon the family name, Boxstall, showing an overdressed young lady crammed into a tall box, surrounded by people small enough to be midgets.
Then there’d been the cruelty of a man she’d begun to spin fantasies around—the handsome young Earl of Kynaston, the godlike darling of the beau monde. His looks and easy charm had been fodder for impossible dreams, but when he’d played on a lute, singing an Elizabethan love song, he’d stolen her heart.
And then he’d crushed it, sending her fleeing back to Hampshire.
Lady Langton sighed. “Perhaps Bath, then.”
Ariana dragged herself out of the painful past. “Bath is full of ancients.”
“Brighton?”
“In November? With the Regent in residence in his Pavilion, drowning in grief?”
Death and grief reminded Ariana of why she must marry, and soon. She wasn’t seventeen anymore. She was twenty-five and had come to terms with her height. She joined in the society of this area and had many friends. She had received offers.
Despite quivering nerves, she said, “You’re correct. There’s nothing for it but London.”
At least mourning would mean there’d be no dancing. Being partnered with a short man was so very awkward, and it was almost impossible to refuse an offer to dance.
Her mother smiled. “Wonderful! I’m sure you’ll attract many gentlemen from whom to choose.”
Ariana drained her coffee to fight a dry mouth. “One reasonable specimen will suffice. If we must do this, we can leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“There’s no time to waste.”
“There’s enough time to make proper preparations. We’ll leave in three days and no sooner.”
When Lady Langton made a clear statement, she was to be obeyed.
They were settling some details of the preparations when Norris came in, glowing from a morning ride. Perhaps he’d been planning a campaign of his own. He tried a smile as he said, “Let’s forget about our silly challenge, Ariana. It’s not fair on you. It’s plain that you don’t wish to marry.”
“Is it?”
“As you said, you’ve had offers and turned the men down.”
“I’m now ready to be less particular. Of course, if you remove the condition and marry soon...”
His smile slid into a glare. “Tell you what: your resolution is unwomanly. I doubt any man would take you, even if you weren’t a giantess.”
“Norris!” Lady Langton objected. “Apologize.”
“No,” Ariana said. “It’s true that I’m too tall for a lady, and finding a husband will be a challenge. ButIknow my duty and don’t intend to be too particular.”
Norris growled, actually growled. “I’m leaving for Town. Now.”
He stormed on his way, slamming the door, leaving Ariana shaking again. They’d not had such fights for ages, and it had been different when they were children and there’d been nursemaids to pull them apart.
