“What? Why?” Liberty asked.
“We have not hosted one for a while, and it is time,” her mother said, not meeting her eyes.
“You told me that hosting a ball takes so much effort, and there are others in society who seem to enjoy it, so let them,” Liberty added.
Her mother waved a hand about. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Liberty asked her father.
He was still a handsome man. In fact, she’d overheard Lady Gulliver say a few weeks ago, that it was deucedly unfair that the man did not appear to age a jot. His hair was black and shot through with gray, and he used his dark brows to maximum effect when scowling, which he usually was at her and Edward at least once in every day.
“Nothing at all,” he said also not meeting Liberty’s eyes.
Something was off here,but what?
“What are you not telling me?” Liberty said again more slowly.
“Nothing, dear,” her mother said far too quickly. She then laughed nervously.
“Definitely something.”
“Your mother and I have been talking—”
“Seven words that never go well for either of us,” she said to Edward, who snorted.
“It’s time, Liberty, to prepare yourself for the future before it is too late,” her father said.
“Future?” Liberty asked, feeling her stomach sink.
“Marriage, of course, dear,” her mother said.
“Our fear is you are not putting your heart into securing a match,” her father added. “I’ve had some offers, but foolishly discussed them with you—”
“Foolishly?” Liberty’s voice rose.
“I am your father and know what is best for you. Your mother convinced me you would not marry without first finding love. I agreed with her, but clearly that is not going to happen so things must change.”
Edward was applying himself to vigorously buttering a crumpet now and not making eye contact.
“I don’t want to marry, and after my time in society thought you understood that,” Liberty said with a calm she wasn’t feeling. “I was on the back foot from the day I entered, older than every other debutante, and already on the shelf,” she added.
“We want you to be happy, Liberty. We want you to have a family and—”
“I can be happy looking after Edward’s children,” she cut her father off.
“It would be an honor to have you living with us, sister,” he said, nodding his head regally, like he already had a wife and six children.
“You need to marry, Liberty; it is for the best,” her mother said. “I know you will be a wonderful mother.”
“I understand your need to find the right man, but this is your fourth season, daughter, and of the four offers you’ve received thus far, none have been suitable as far as you were concerned,” her father said.
“They were all fools, and older than you, father.”
“There is nothing wrong with marrying a man older than you, surely?” her mother said. “Your father is older than me.”
“By six years,” he drawled.
“I know I wished love for you,” her mother said, ignoring him, “but if you have respect and tolerance, that will come.”
