Marianne stiffened as she took up her cup. “So it is to settle for someone who cares nothing for me, but is willing to overlook my…spinsterhood…or to accept that for the next perhaps fifty years my life will play out just as it is at this moment?”
Her aunt blinked in confusion at the question. “There are no other choices, are there?”
Once again Marianne’s thoughts returned to that list. She could almost see each item in her mind. Taunting her with another choice. A choice tolive!
After all, if her ultimate existence was to be one of loneliness, why shouldn’t she experience something first? What was the worst that could happen? Societal shunning? She was hardly accepted in society as it was. The loss would not be a great one…
“Oh dear.” Her aunt reached out and covered her hand. “I do not say this to hurt you. Only that you asked me my thoughts. And I believe that the sooner we simply accept what we are and what our place is, the more content we will eventually be with that place. Over time, the sting eases, I assure you.”
Marianne smiled at her aunt, for she knew Beulah truly didn’t mean to hurt her. But as they each returned to their breakfast, Marianne couldn’t help but steal a glance at her. What she described as quiet acceptance of a circumstance she could not change, Marianne presently saw as surrender to despair.
And worse, when she looked at her aunt, she saw her own future ten, twenty, thirty years down the road. There was no reason to think her life would end any differently than Beulah’s would…or Claudia’s had.
And that left her once again with thoughts of her friend’s unfinished list. Her unfinished dreams of something more interesting than surrender. Of experiencing life.
Marianne’s expression did not change. She made certain of it, for she didn’t want to face questions in case her aunt noticed. But deep within her, she felt thatshehad changed. Because Great-Aunt Beulah might not have meant to do so, but she had driven Marianne to a choice.
She was going to complete as many of the items on Claudia’s abandoned list as she could, no matter how utterly terrifying she found them. For her friend.
And for herself.
CHAPTER 3
When Marianne and Delacourt arrived at his home for a drink before they all left for a ball, Sebastian could see that Marianne was distracted. Thankfully, she had not worn another unflattering black gown, but she still had a band of black around her upper arm, rather like one would see a man wear after a loss.
If he hadn’t known his friend so well, he might have simply dismissed her unease as a reaction to Lady Claudia’s death and left it at that. But hedidknow Marianne and he was certain that there was more to the way her gaze went distant and her attempts to add to the conversation were so few. More strangely, he actually found himself curious about the cause of her distress. An odd and unexpected sensation, indeed, for a man who always did his level best to stay out of anything that required emotion or a deeper connection.
“Tonight’s fete at Lady Simpson’s should be a laugh, don’t you think?” he asked, keeping his eye on Marianne for her reaction.
She only blinked, her expression still distant, but her brother answered instead.
“Why a laugh? I’ve always found her gatherings to be so boring.” Delacourt shuddered. “If her husband was not an important member of parliament, I doubt anyone would go and drink her watered-down spirits and listen to those horrible orchestras she has hired over the years. The woman must be completely unable to discern one note from another. Dear Lord, the last one practically picked their way through the waltz.”
“Andthatis why it is a laugh, Delacourt,” Sebastian chuckled. “Don’t you think, Marianne?”
She shook her head and turned toward him. She was pale and for the first time he noted just the faintest of shadows beneath her eyes. Yes, something was definitely troubling her.
“I’m sorry, I was woolgathering. What are we discussing?” she asked with a deep blush.
Sebastian arched a playful brow. “The fact that the disastrous qualities of poor Lady Simpson’s balls are the reason they are so entertaining. Would you not agree?”
For the first time that night, Marianne smiled. It was a faint shadow of her usual expression, but it was there and a swell of pride filled Sebastian. “I do agree.”
“You two are clearly troubled if you think standing through her wretched gatherings is an entertainment,” Delacourt said as he set his empty drink aside with a shake of his head. “Come, let’s go to the carriage.”
Sebastian offered Marianne an arm before her brother could, and though Delacourt’s posture stiffened, he said nothing as he led them from the room to the waiting vehicle. They would travel together, but Sebastian’s own driver would follow shortly so that he could leave when…and with whom…he desired.
He helped Marianne into the rig and after they were all settled and the carriage began to roll the short distance to Lord and Lady Simpson’s residence, he tilted his head. “Your brother may not share our amusement at the massive failure of poor Lady Simpson’s gatherings, but perhaps if we made it into a game that would change his mind.”
Delacourt looked at him with suspicion. “A game?”
Marianne was also staring across the expanse between them, but her eyes had gone a bit wider with interest. “Yes, Sebastian, what kind of game could we possibly play?”
He lifted a finger to his lips. “Each time Lady Simpson introduces two people who despise each other, we must tilt our glasses in salute. And when she boasts too loudly about the cost of the gathering, we must take a sip.”
Marianne laughed. “Oh, I like this. What about when the orchestra plays poorly? Or goes off time and makes the dancers nearly crash headlong into each other?”
“A drink full-on, my dear,” Sebastian laughed. “What else would it be?”
