Beth takes another swallow, letting the wine warm away her discomfort. “Don’t bother. If they’re all like him, I’m not interested.”
“They’re not all like Clyson.”
“Then why aren’t you out there, dancing with them?” Beth asks, surprised by the bite in her voice. It’s just that she thought the younger ones would be better, not their own horrible shades of awful.
Gwen gently takes the wine from her hand and places it on a side table before stepping closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. Beth forces herself to take a deep breath. Where Lord Clyson’s grip was possessive, Gwen’s touch is calming and lovely, and she lets her shoulders come down.
“Just because I think they’re all arses doesn’t mean you have to, and some of themarenice.”
“‘Nice’ doesn’t seem good enough to marry.”
Gwen blows out a breath and Beth wilts. She doesn’t mean to be a downer, but she thought—what did she think, she’d meet a pretty boy and suddenly she’d want to be married for the first time in her life?
“You’re right. Most of them are horrible, and even marrying the nice ones is still giving up a hell of a lot.”
“My mother always seemed so unhappy,” Beth admits, notinghow her mother laughs across the floor, looking free and confident. Something she never seemed at home. “I’d rather be single and penniless than stuck in a marriage like that.”
Gwen sighs. “Agreed. Though penniless looks different when you’re really in it.”
“I know,” Beth says shortly.
Gwen squeezes her waist. “I don’t want to be married any more than you do. Stuck with some boring man the rest of my life?”
“Would it be worse being stuck with your father your whole life?” Beth wonders.
At least Gwen has the choice to remain unwed. She’ll have somewhere to live when the season’s over.
“Oh, Father’s hardly boring. He’s fun, and funny, and I enjoy our house. You would too. I’m telling you, you should come stay sometime. You can’t have my father—” Beth giggles, wrinkling her nose. Gwen grins, squeezing her hip. “But he could convince you some men are worth it.”
Beth rolls her eyes, laughing as Gwen snickers. “Sure.”
They stand for a moment, watching the dancing. It is pretty, even if it’s the core of a ritual she wants no part in. Gwen nudges Beth and she follows her gaze, noticing Lord Havenfort standing across from them, his eyes tracking her mother as she dances with one of the elderly members of the House of Lords.
Lord Havenfort is full-on glaring at them. And when Mother spots him over the Lord’s shoulder, she blushes and turns her look away.
Gwen stiffens beside her.
“What?”
“...Nothing,” Gwen says, shaking her head.
“What?” Beth insists, noting the calculating look in her eye and her rigid posture.
“It’s stupid.”
“Tell me, I could use a laugh,” Beth presses.
Gwen sighs and looks back at her. “This is going to sound ludicrous,” she cautions.
“Hit me.”
“What if we got them together instead?”
Beth stares at her. “What?”
“Our parents. Clearly there’s history there. Your mother is available, my father is available. He’d be very good to her, and kind, and clearly he already likes her.”
Beth gapes at her new friend. Get their parents—“My mother hates him!”
