“It was... lovely,” Gwen manages when she can take in air, wiping at her crumby mouth.
“We’ll have to gussy you up for that dinner tomorrow, see if you can’t get a repeat performance.”
Gwen blushes even as she winces. She doesn’t know how they could lie together with the specter of Lord Montson’s proposal over them. But she also wouldn’t want to give up the opportunity.
“She’s awfully short,” Mrs. Gilpe says.
Gwen blinks at her. “What?”
“She’s very short, and small. Just saying.”
“So it doesn’t matter if it’s a man or a woman, you’re going to judge them either way, hmm?” Gwen says.
Mrs. Gilpe grins. “Of course, dear. It’s our right.”
“Yes, we don’t care who you’re kissing. It’s the kissing we must tease about,” Mrs. Stelm adds.
Gwen groans.
“And you did quite a lot of that,” Mrs. Gilpe says, reaching out to turn Gwen’s cheek, exposing the love bite she hid withmakeup this morning. “My goodness, you’re grown women. Keep those where they can’t be seen.”
Gwen laughs and pushes her away, blushing up to her ears. Mrs. Stelm and Mrs. Gilpe start going on about the mess from last night and how cute Gwen and Beth do look together.
And even as she knows it cannot last, and even as the grief of tomorrow looms ahead of her, Gwen lets herself be briefly lost in their lighthearted teasing—in the idea that Beth could be someone they tease and toy about, who they can embarrass her about, like aunts crowing over a man. She should take her happinesses as she can, for she knows they’ll be forever fleeting. But at least she’ll have them.
Chapter Seventeen
Beth
Beth stares out at London, watching the distant carriages rumble along the city outskirts and the smoke rise from untold numbers of chimneys. The city stretches out before them like a winding industrial labyrinth and Beth finds herself wishing she could simply escape into it and never return.
Because the Ashmond lands are gorgeous. Apparently the estate by the Peak District is five times as large, with its own lake and farmland and orchard. But the estate just outside of London is splendid enough. Miles of riding trails both on and off the property they’re given leave to use, and with the trees in full bloom and the greenery, it’s absolutely stunning. She’ll admit she’s entirely taken by the land.
Lord Montson’s been gentlemanly to a fault all afternoon, accommodating and cheerful. She’s listened as he details the land, the value, their normal schedules, and everything to do with his family. Part of her mind has dutifully noted down the various aunts and uncles and relations she should know, kept track of every detail. But the larger part of her has been off in a daydream, wishing it was her and Gwen out riding instead.
Wishing she’s simply fallen asleep in Gwen’s arms and this is all just a nightmare. For though the berm on which they’vestopped provides a wonderful view, and though Lord Montson is a lovely man, and though she’d be richer than God and have every luxury, Beth wants nothing to do with any of it.
She can hear their chaperones behind them, a pair of stable hands tasked with following at a discreet distance. They’re chatting about crop yields, she thinks. She’d rather discuss that than continue to discuss the Ashmond family as if it’s about to be her own.
Because it is. Their parents are at the house, and his father is discussing the terms of the arrangement with Mother now. Taking tea in the vaulted library with its massive shelves—two months ago, Beth would have happily said yes based on the books alone. Lord Montsonisa kind man with land, and titles, and status, and security. He is everything—thisis everything they wanted, and more than she and her mother could ever have hoped to get.
“What do you think?”
Beth looks over and finds Lord Montson waiting eagerly, arms outstretched at the view. “It’s amazing,” she says honestly.
He grins, so pleased by her approval. He’s charming and kind and seems genuinely interested and invested in her opinion. He’s perfect, and she still feels thoroughly empty inside about him.
“When I can see it like this, it always makes me long for the country, with nothing around for miles.”
“But then you can’t see the hustle and bustle and be glad you’re not in it,” she returns, watching as he chuckles.
“Entirely fair. Do you think you’d miss it?”
“The city?”
“Of course, I have to spend some of the year here, but I doprefer the country. Would you miss the city, staying north for most of the year?”
“Not at all,” she says quickly. “I don’t enjoy London, much less the season. But I would miss my friends,” she says, her chest aching at the thought of calling Gwen something as mundane asfriend.
