“Your father,” Beth corrects. “Or Bobby, or Albie. I didn’t—why did you involve them in this?” she asks, part shock, part indignation.
“It wasn’t intentional,” Gwen cuts back.
“It’s not as if you were being particularly subtle about it,” Meredith adds. “The two of you glancing at each other every minute. It was clear something was afoot.”
Gwen winces and Beth sighs. Meredith laughs at them both.
“Do you think our parents knew?” Beth asks.
“Oh, no,” Meredith says quickly. “They’re shockingly oblivious to everything but the politics right now, and though it wasn’t agoodplan, your mother did look halfway to a fainting spell for a while there before the fight.”
“At least I can stop forcing drinks on her,” Beth says, shaking her head as she takes a sip of champagne.
“She seemed remarkably together after the fight,” Gwen notes, glancing over at the Ashmond tent. No sign of the Ashmonds or their parents.
“Oh, she’s good in a crisis,” Beth says, waving it off. “I do wish we could see where they went. Hard to know our next steps with them out of sight.”
“Hard to know how they’re avoiding the Ashmonds. I can’t imagine this will make the earl any more inclined to let thetwo of you see each other,” Meredith says, looking between them.
Gwen cocks her head. Beth glances at her and then looks back at Meredith. “What... exactly do you think we’re trying to do?”
Meredith considers them and then looks back at the cluster of boys. Gwen notes that all of the Lords have disappeared as well. She wonders if the two camps are elsewhere, planning political machinations in light of the Havenfort/Ashmond brawl, as she’s sure it will come to be known.
“Based on the little I’ve heard from Albie, you’re trying to match up your parents. I’m entirely unclear on the motivation.”
Gwen glances at Beth, who’s simply staring at Meredith.
“That’s... yes. We just think they could be happy together,” Gwen offers.
“And provide you some leeway in finding marriages yourselves, I expect, though you’ve left it a little late, Beth, to get out of this one.”
“I know,” Beth says softly.
“Do you really want to? I know Lord Ashmond is an unmitigated arse, but Lord Montson seems sweet enough, and he does like you very much.”
“I know,” Beth repeats. Gwen swallows hard as Beth raises their hands for Meredith to see. “But Lord Montson isn’t who I’d like to spend my life with. And my mother will be miserable, much as she keeps insisting it’s best for us both.”
“Oh,” Meredith says softly before glancing around the tent again.
But no one’s paying them any mind. All of the men are eagerly watching the races. Beth should probably be cheering forMontson, but Gwen won’t give her up. Won’t pull her away. Won’t shy away from the look Meredith gives them as she returns her gaze, soft and understanding.
“I see.”
“If our parents marry, it will mean we can... do away with charades and the marriage market. And they’ll be happy,” Beth adds desperately. “If we thought they were going to be miserable, we wouldn’t try.”
“We almost didn’t,” Gwen says, squeezing Beth’s hand. “But they’ve both been nearly as heartbroken as we have, and if there’s a chance for everyone to have...” She trails off, can’t quite articulate it.
“For everyone to get a happily-ever-after, I understand,” Meredith says, her smile growing. “Well. I think we’re going to have to meet about my wedding much more often.”
“What?” Gwen says, inelegant. She’d rather have an ice pick to the eye.
“Beth and I are just going to have to meet to compare notes. And her mother will have to come. And the Mason house has been having terrible mold issues, haven’t you heard? So we’ll have to meet at mine. And as your father is providing some of the funding and working with Albie’s uncle to shore up the vote, I imagine he’ll have to come along. And we’ll simply need to picnic, won’t we?” Meredith says.
“You really ought to have consulted Mere from the outset,” Albie says as he steps up behind them. “She’s the most devious of all of us, and that’s saying something.”
He glances at their hands and Gwen slowly tugs Beth’s tangled fingers down between their skirts, smiling at her and then at Albie. She never said it plain, but they’ve both just known.He’s been her companion for nearly a decade through all of this nonsense. She should have just told them.
“Are you all right?” Beth asks as Albie steps around them to stand beside Meredith, taking her hand the way Beth has Gwen’s.
