In other words, now that the man she’d loved since before she’d come out was no longer dead, she could wear brighter shades. Though Joanna didn’t say it, it was clear in her face. “You do not think the dark greens and maroons of my wardrobe fitting?”
Joanna scrunched up her nose. “I suppose they are fine, but you may wish for Amelia’s input as she is much better with such aesthetics. I do believe you would be quite fetching in whatever she recommends.”
“Joanna.” She used her stern tone, which she rarely used with anyone but her horses. “I am not looking to be courted, so whatever plot you have simmering in that smart head of yours, you must burn. I am not marrying again. I am a widow and theton—Oh, no.” She pushed her chair back and rose. “I can’t go to London, ever.” Dread, anger, and a deep ache filled her.
Joanna rose as well. “Mariel, what is it?”
She could see the women whispering behind her back even as the circumstances filled her head. “Theton.”
“Yes, what about them?” Joanna moved closer and grasped her hand. “Why would they stop you from coming to London with us?”
“Marcus.” She swallowed hard. “He’s alive. Everyone will expect that he would seek me out, ask me to honor our betrothal.”
Joanna hesitantly shook her head. “That was four years ago. I’m sure they have forgotten.”
She cocked her head and raised her brows.
“Very well, they haven’t.”
She stepped away from her sister. “Can’t you see it? The pitying looks, the whispers, and if Marcus were to court a young woman?”
Joanna frowned as she started to pace again. “I see what you mean. And what if you both are at the same recital or ball? It would be awkward.”
“Awkward?” Her eyes began to sting. “It would be heartbreaking. Even if I could hide all my anger and hurt, they’d know.”
“Or make up a story.”
She took two more steps back at the thought, bumping into the sideboard as the pain of his betrayal washed through her again. “I couldn’t. I just…” Though she tried to hold it in, the ache was too new and two tears tracked down her cheeks.
Joanna stopped, her hands curling into fists. “He should be horsewhipped for what he’s done to you.”
A part of her agreed, and for a brief moment, the thought of lashing out at the man she’d loved with her whole heart had her tears stopping. But she was and would ever be a lady. “I’m afraid no such punishment will be visited upon him.”
“It’s just wrong that you must suffer while he continues with his life as if nothing untoward has occurred.”
For the first time, she agreed with Joanna’s sentiment about the state of society. It did seem unfair that she must fade from society at the age of a score and six as if she were a matron like her mother. The feeling of resentment that bubbled up was so foreign that it made her uncomfortable. Despite having two sisters who had stretched society’s patience and even secretly went beyond the pale, it had never been her way. “I need to ride.”
“That is an excellent idea.” Joanna strode around the table toward her. “And I need to confer with James on our trip to Town. There must be a way to protect you.”
Before she could object, her sister left the room. Too off-balance to focus on her sister’s plans, she ascended the staircase, anxious to don her riding habit and be on Xeres’ back. He always wanted to go his way and at his pace, the perfect horse for riding right now.
For some reason, she wanted to fight for control.
Chapter Three
“Dratted design.” Marielreleased the thread for the fifth time in less than an hour and pulled it out. She’d barely completed one peony on her embroidery loop, her lack of attention frustrating her. Setting the loop on the settee next to her, she stood. Perhaps being alone wasn’t in her best interest.
She’d thought her ride early in the morning with Xeres would have settled her nerves. But her agitation had not decreased. Turning to the portrait of her sister, she looked into the happy and contented gaze of Belinda. That was what she needed to find again, and she was well aware of why she’d lost it. “It’s time I searched out Joanna to discover what plans she has surely made.”
Giving the portrait a wave, she headed for the old ballroom. It had not surprised her that Joanna and James had had the massive room changed into a large library and lecture area. Only they would need the largest room in a home for learning. Then again, their aunt’s old home was now a school, which she had no doubt had the quality of Oxford, only its students were women of the aristocracy.
Upon entering the cavernous space with a multitude of sectioned spaces for various subjects, she halted. “Joanna, are you about?”
“I am.” Joanna’s voice came from the left as did her footsteps once she stepped off whatever rug she trod upon. “I was just researching a constellation that one of our students was interested in.” Her sister came around a set of mahogany book presses, a book in her hand. “One problem with running a school is that all my students expect me to know all the answers.” Though she rolled her eyes, she grinned happily.
“I imagine it would also be enjoyable to learn from your students, would it not?”
Her sister halted in midstride. “You are correct. Why didn’t I think of that? I can allow them the research and have them teachme. It would give them a confidence I know some of them do not possess.” She strode up and hugged her. “You, dear sister, are as smart as Socrates.”
