“I do think that we might take a daring jaunt to the east, the wild lands of India where the majestic Maharaja’s rule, and further into the territory of the Chinese,” Lord Strathmore added. “We could travel the world. The East, New Holland even, and when the continent is calmer from Napoleon’s madness, we can take a journey to France.”
The hint about travelling did make Rachel’s heart leap. For years she had imagined what it would be to travel to different places and possibly overseas lands, but since her parents had crushed those dreams, she had given up on it. But now that she about the marry, the dream sprung up.
“A sea voyage,” she sighed dreamily. “I have always wanted to sail away to hidden lands.”
“I would love to take you anywhere you want to go,” the Lord promised.
Rachel paused as a maid came in with a tray of foods to nibble on. When she left the room, she asked, “Have you courted before?”
“Twice,” he said while she poured out two glasses of lemonade. “Both ladies were too…erm, tenacious and spirited for me to handle. I do not know what featherbrained idea Mary Wollstonecraft, Elizabeth Fry, and Jeanne Baré have given these women, but I will not stand for it.”
While familiar with the first two women he had mentioned, Rachel knew nothing about the last. “Pardon me, who is Miss Baré?
“A trickster calling herself Jean Baret, who disguised herself a man to sail with other men in France’s colonial expedition,” he almost sneered. “How could one think of such a thing?”
From what she knew about the first two - women who were activists and who pushed women’s rights - she assumed that the last lady had broken another rule that men believed their gender should not. He was a traditionalist then, believing that women only had their place in the home. Just like her father.
Another point why her parents favored him was the very same point that made her begin to draw away. Was that why he wanted her in silks? To dress her up as the paragon of a London socialite woman and make her into the diamond of the first water? To have her and parade her around as an ornament on his arm? Did he want only a decoration or a woman of substance?
She sipped her drink just to give her some time to think. “Would you tell me about your family? Father, Mother, any siblings?”
He launched into a spiel about his family, about his grandfather and father who were academics and brilliant lords, and diverted to his uncle who was a member of the Royal Society. It took him a long while to get to his mother and his sister, who he briefly mentioned were good quiet women. His mother, the daughter of a late Earl, and a sister, who was off at finishing school somewhere in Manchester.
She nibbled on a buttered crouton while he went back to his father and uncle, expressing how he wanted to not only match them in wealth and prosperity but to surpass them.
Rachel sighed and began to half-listen to him with her mind flitting to an image of William’s burning emerald eyes just before he had kissed with more passion than she had ever imagined existed.
“Lady Hampton?”
She snapped out of her daze and instantly reddened at the searching look the Lord was giving her. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to stray off. I was—was just thinking about a sermon at the church the other day. Very strange, I know.”
“No, it is not,” he said. “Not to me. Tell me, what was the sermon about?”
“How women should defer to their husbands at all times,” Rachel said while closely watching the Lord. “It was about humility and obedience.”
His chin notched up. “Ah, yes, a sermon about the proper way. Women should heed to their superiors, yes.”
Rachel sat stunned. She reached for her glass to mask her shock. He wanted her to be a submissive wife, a lady he could dress up and put on display at his whim. Knowing the family she came from, she would not be one to disobey him or object to him. He did not want to know her, he did not want to love her, and he did not want to listen to any concerns she would have. She would not be tenacious or spirited but rather a marionette.
A part of her wanted to cry, but another part of her was relieved. Now she knew why he had picked her from the rest of the ladies in the ball and why he was so ardent in pursuing her.
If only I could tell him to leave.
But she could not; her parents would never let her hear the end of it. They wanted her to marry him and would never let her reject him because, as she had asked for, he was younger. They would allow her that, but they would never let her reject him for his archaic beliefs and his connection to the capital. Which was what they wanted.
“I see,” she muttered, and before he could ask her about her tone, she pressed. “Do you appreciate art, My Lord?”
***
Rachel escaped to the garden at twilight as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. She needed William—his warm embrace, his kind words, and his caring eyes. She scanned the first section of the garden and did not find him, and her body spun, trying to find him anywhere.
She nearly teetered on her feet—only to have strong arms grab her and lift her. She smelled the familiar scent of William’s skin and buried her head under his chin as he carried her away. She was not sure where he had taken her, but when she spotted the eaves of the gazebo she realized where she was.
He sat and resting on his lap, Rachel nearly cried. “He does not want me, William. Not for me as myself. He wants a puppet who he can order around, pull my strings, and make me dance to his will. And the worst thing is, my parents will force me to marry him because he is exactly what they need. I—I cannot. I cannot go on, William. He will choke the little life I have struggled so hard to keep alive.”
Softly, William murmured comforting words in her ears while he dropped tender kisses on her hairline. “I am sorry, sweetheart.”
The floodgates Rachel had held back burst, and the tears flowed down her cheeks. “T-they never gave me a chance, William. Th-they never put me in a place where I—I could choose for myself. They n-never put me on even footing with the others, and n-now they have trapped me in a box.”
