Had she imagined his vulnerability? Most likely.
Furthermore, being needed by such a prominent theatrical person had been a powerful inducement. Or was it something about the man himself? Carter Dodd, although formidable in the theater world, was also a human being.
Regardless, at the end of her first day, she’d barely arrived home in time to clean up and dress for dinner, an eight-course meal served in the familiarity of the grand dining room on gilded dishes.
Her father sat at the head of the twenty-foot table, while her mother sat to his right and Elle to his left. Although they dined formally, it would have been ridiculously impractical for her mother to sit at the foot.
“I do hope those poor children are grateful for your dedication.” Her mother’s expression was proud and encouraging.
Elle flinched. If she wasn’t famished from working all day, her lie might have caused her to lose her appetite.
The most troubling aspect of her plan to achieve independence by establishing herself as a playwright was the deception involved. To her parents. To Coachman Pete. To Mrs. Grey. Not to mention Mr. Dodd…
So much deception!
Unfortunately, telling the truth would ruin everything.
Elle nearly jumped out of her skin when her father spoke.
“Ashwood was impressed that my oldest daughter possesses such a charitable nature. He’s determined to marry off his youngest son.” He frowned and turned to Elle’s mother. “How did a devil like him manage to have three male children and I have none? I love all my girls, but I would think that the good lord would have seen fit to bless me with at least one son.”
As Elle listened to her father's lament, her heart sank, dragged down by the weight of unyielding tradition. The expectations placed upon her, as a daughter in a world that valued sons above all else, threatened to suffocate her aspirations.
“I’m sorry, darling,” her mother spoke softly.
“I’m not blaming you, Dora.” Her father reached a hand across to her mother’s. Elle had sat through this conversation more times than she could count—the failure to sire a male child being her father’s greatest regret.
It meant that, eventually, his cousin’s son, Lord Elmer—a despicable man who was not above gloating—would take over the title. But her father remained hearty and whole. They needn’t worry about any of that for years to come.
Even so, mention of her distant cousin sent a tremor down her spine.
The year of her come-out, Lord Elmer had asked Elle’s father for her hand, and although her mother considered the match a viable contingency, her father had adamantly refused the request.
And she’d been utterly grateful for that.
Regardless of their family’s precarious circumstances, Elle refused to consider her father’s mortality. Coming up on his seventh decade, her father, much like her mother, appeared at least a decade younger than his actual years.
“Has the marquess’s eldest wed already?” Her mother deftly turned the conversation away from that depressing subject.
“Five years. Unfortunately, the future marchioness seems to be barren.”
“What of the second son?”
“On the peninsula. Unfortunately, missing in action.”
Her mother’s brows shot up. “How very interesting. That makes the youngest a promising prospect for Elle.”
“I agree.”
“There’s also the Duke of Herschel’s younger brother, Lord Damien—he seemed a kind enough fellow. Or perhaps the Viscount Wade. He appeared briefly at the Willoughby Ball last spring.” Her mother’s stare swung back over to Elle. “And don’t forget, I expect you will be fitted for no less than half a dozen new dresses before the season kicks off. I can join you tomorrow morning.”
Elle was shaking her head. “I can’t. I’ll need to go back to the hospital tomorrow. Besides, I told you I don’t want to marry—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Giselle.” Elle’s mother scowled. “Your father’s been too lenient with you, child, and this spring you will marry the man of his choosing.”
“I think you’ll like Lord Ed—”
“But I can write. I’ve told you—”
