When she sat, her mother began a long spiel about how Lord Strathmore would be around for her engagement, which would be a quiet, private affair. Her mother groused about the three weeks it would take to publish the engagement. But it was the best option as she considered using a special license sinful.
“Those who use such a thing are mired in sin, I tell you,” Lady Mary sniffed scornfully. “They are hiding something, most likely a pregnancy.”
“Or they could be in love,” Rachel dared to interject.
“Nonsense,” her mother huffed while refreshing her cup. “Be quiet.”
Rachel wanted anything but to bite her tongue. She wouldn’t dare stand and walk out, but whatever else her parents were going to say to her next was fated to go in one ear and out the other. If they were going to dismiss her, she was free to ignore them. It did not matter anyhow. Even if they tried to say something, it would be brushed away.
She heard a few principal things, how to dress for the dinner they would be hosting Lord Strathmore, and that she should accept his proposal with enthusiasm.
Her mother rested her cup down. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” Rachel said emptily.
Lady Mary and her father shared a look. Then, her father turned to her. “What is that tone?”
“I’m tired,” Rachel infused her tone with fake tiredness. “I want to go rest.”
“Oh,” her father nodded. “You’re excused.”
Relieved, Rachel left the room, and went to her bedchambers and got on the bed facing away from the doorway. Staring blankly at the wall, she whispered. “What am I to do?”
***
The evening of the engagement dinner, a messenger came from Lord Strathmore, bearing a silk dress for her to wear that night. It was a pale silk slip with a blue net overdress. It was not half as fine as what the other ladies were wearing in the ton, but at least it was a far cry from the ones she had.
Once upon a time, Rachel would have loved a gift like this, but the silk strings came with iron shackles. After marrying the Lord, her life would be one of glamor, but not one that would soothe her soul.
Her mother’s face had soured upon seeing the dress, but Rachel knew Lady Mary would not stop her from wearing it as the Lord expected to see her in it.
“And wear the diadem he sent you,” she said acidly while turning away.
Jane shared a look with her, just before Rachel shrugged. “I have no choice, do I?”
After donning the dress, she briefly admired the fabric, the cut and fall of the dress, and how it fit her body, but knowing that the Lord was already starting to make a claim on her had her grimacing a little.
Jane fixed her hair into a lovely fall and set the diadem on her head. “There you go. You look beautiful.”
“If only I would feel that way,” Rachel said. “I feel like a present, wrapped up in a pretty silken bow and topped with jewels.”
She stood just in time as her mother came into the room. Rachel’s brows lifted high at the sight of her mother in a dark blue gown, stately and unembellished, with a thin gold necklace around her neck. She had never seen her mother in anymore jewelry than her plain gold wedding band.
“Are you ready?” Lady Mary asked.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Then come,” she turned to the door. “The Lord should be here soon.”
The foyer was laid with a new rug and twin blue and white Chinese porcelain vases, filled with flowers, stood sentinel at the doorway. Her father joined her and her mother at the foyer as the unmistakable crunch of a carriage’s wheels was heard.
When the footman let the Lord in, Rachel found him to be impeccable; combed hair, dark suit, crisp linen and embroidered waistcoat, a cravat in a flawless waterfall, jeweled cravat pins, and cufflinks. His gaze landed on her, and a smug grin tugged his lips up.
She was assured—the night was going to be a hard one.
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Chapter 19
