"What a delightful surprise," the lady said. She waved away Percy's curtsy and arranged herself upon a chaise longue of emerald velvet. "You'll have to excuse mydishabille. I was not expecting company at this hour."
"I know it is rag-mannered of me to barge in on you like this," Percy said in a rush. "I should have sent a note around or at least waited until a more fashionable hour to call—"
"No need between friends." Smiling, Marianne reached over to the tea tray and plucked a ripe strawberry. "Though I am curious at what brings you here at this ungodly hour."
On the carriage ride over, Percy had rehearsed what she planned to say to Marianne. She could not in good conscience reveal Paul's problems, nor could she disclose her arrangement with Hunt. Marianne was a sophisticated lady, but Percy guessed even she had limits. Besides, Marianne was Helena's best friend, and the last thing Percy needed was for the Hartefords to find out about the wager.
It was a tricky business: to ask for advice yet remain discreet at the same time.
"I have a problem," Percy said earnestly. "One I am hoping you can help me with, Marianne. It has to do with... a man."
"Most problems do. This is about Portland?"
"Well, yes... and no."
Marianne's brows climbed. "How intriguing." Finishing her berry, she reclined with languid grace against the rolled squabs. "Do go on."
Percy took a deep breath. "I have been thinking about what you said to me that night at Lady Stanhope's ball. About Lord Portland being too staid for me. Now that I've actually spent time with him,"—she gave a rueful shrug—"I'm wondering if you weren't rather on the mark."
"I usually am," Marianne said.
Yesterday, Percy had gone for another drive with the viscount; she'd felt ill-at-ease the entire time. 'Twas as if the night at Vauxhall had stripped away her rose-colored spectacles, and she saw unfiltered reality for the first time. Around Lord Charles, she was constantly treading on eggshells, fearful of offending his delicate sensibilities. She'd also discovered that his favorite topic seemed to be...himself.
Chewing her lip, she searched for the right question to ask her wise friend. "Marianne, how do you know when you've met therightgentleman?"
"Ah, the age old question. I thought that was the way the wind was blowing." The other lady smiled. "Now do you want to hear the socially sanctioned response... or what I believe to be true?"
Percy thought it over. "What is the difference?"
"Shall I tell you both, and you can decide which version you prefer?"
"Yes, please."
"If one is to believe the wisdom of Society, then finding the proper match has everything to do with breeding and money. Attraction can figure into the equation, if one has the luxury. But in the end, the right spouse is undoubtedly the one whose status and pocketbook enhances one's own."
"From that perspective, I suppose there's no arguing that Lord Charles is the right choice," Percy said. Why did the fact make her feel resigned? "He is titled and wealthy, not to mention very handsome. He's everything my papa wanted for me."
"Be that as it may, there is my own view on the matter."
Percy leaned forward.
"It falls simply to this: the right gentleman is the one who values you for who you are. Who sees your flaws and cares not a jot. When you are together, you love not only him," Marianne said, "but yourself."
Silence spun into the golden light of the drawing room. The hairs prickled on Percy's skin as she contemplated the words. She recalled how alive and free she'd felt dancing with Hunt at Vauxhall. And during their lively back-and-forth bantering matches and their kisses...Lud.It hit her like the first icy splash of morning ablutions.
Could she be developing feelings for Hunt? Her sworn adversary?
"Have you ever been in love, Marianne?" she blurted.
There was an uncharacteristic flicker in the other's clear eyes, and Percy immediately regretted the impulsive and altogether intrusive question. "I beg your pardon—"
"Once. Long ago, before my marriage," Marianne said quietly. "I was too young to know what I was doing. Being older and wiser now, I must add a caveat to my answer about love."
"Yes?"
"Choosing the right man—the lover your heart and soul demands—is not without risk. Indeed, it often leads to more pain than simply going along with society's rules." Marianne gave her a level look. "I do not want you to misunderstand my earlier comment. Portland may be a staid choice, but he is also a sensible one. I have a feeling the same cannot be said of your other gentleman, whoever he is."
Percy's cheeks grew hot. There was no point in dissembling before that perceptive emerald gaze. "How did you know?"
