Disheartened, Victoria flattened her lips. “Do they not believe you want to marry for love? How can you find yourvotre âme sœurif you are not allowed to court?”
“Aunt and Uncle had an arranged marriage,” Ellie replied. “They do not believe in soulmates or love. Their idea of a companionship is debating the merits of roasted pheasant over duck.”
“Sounds more delightful than these men and their blasé flirting,” Victoria replied. “It is still horrible, though. No one deserves to be trapped in a marriage of convenience.”
The afternoon sun streamed in through the windows, warming the solarium. Fresh flowers sprouted from vases, and watered ivory silk flowed over the walls. Through the large double doors, the scent of azaleas, tulips, and the cultivated wildflowers in the garden below wafted in.
“It is,” Ellie replied, her face falling with sadness. “I do not want to be sold off or traded as if I am a fattened calf to the butcher, but until I get to the age of majority, I have little say in what I can do.”
“Oh yes, yes, about that,” Victoria’s eyes went bright with excitement. “Your twenty-first birthday is in a week and two days. What shall we do for such a wonderful milestone? Shall wethrow a ball, or take a trip to Vauxhall, or—or use my father’s yacht to take a trip to America—”
“What?” Ellie’s mouth dropped. “No, goodness no, Victoria! We cannot do any of those.”
“Why not?” Victoria pouted. “I have always wanted to see New York.”
“I know, but I doubt we’ll see New York in a day,” Ellie replied. “Though I do thank you for the thought.”
Shaking her head, Victoria commiserated, “It is a pity that you shan’t know what it is to feel your heartbeat pound out of your chest, to feel your skin prickle with awareness and your head feel so light.”
“It sounds like you are describing a catalepsy,” Ellie’s lips twitched. “I would rather avoid that, thank you. But you are a bit mistaken, Ididfeel love once. It was calf-love, I suppose, but I did feel it.”
“Where did he go, by the by?” Victoria asked. “I know you said one day he was with you, and then when your uncle found you, he vanished.”
Shaking her head, Ellie corrected her, “Wevanished. Uncle moved us from St John’s Wood to Grosvenor Square, and we never set foot in that part of the countryside again.
“When I asked around, covertly, of course, no one had ever heard of or seen the boy I’d described to them. Ash was gone, too. I think Uncle made sure he was sent away. No, no, I am sure Uncle sent him away.”
Shifting the plates on the table, her friend tutted. “Such a shame. Do you think you would have been the love of his life if you had been allowed to stay?”
“Maybe,” Evelina replied. “But then, how long do first loves last? There are times I do think it was best that we were separated, but at other times, I mourn the fact that the opportunity to find out was stolen from me.”
Reaching over the small round tea table, Victoria held Ellie’s hand tightly. “I, too, wish you had.”
“Thank you.”
“Now,” Victoria’s lips pursed, “Back to the conundrum of what we shall do for your birthday. How does a trip to the pools of Bath sound?”
Stepping into the fore room of her uncle’s townhome, Evelina wanted nothing more than a hot cup of tea and to retire to her bed with the latest book from Temple of the Muses in hand.
“Miss,” Mr Radcliffe, the butler, bowed as she stepped into the room, “Your honored aunt and uncle requested to see you in the drawing room.”
Frowning, Evelina undid her coat. “Why?”
“I would not know, Miss,” he said candidly. “I am only told to make you aware that they need to see you as soon as you arrive. The only caveat I am told to give you is that, if you need to change your clothes, you may do so.”
A twist of frustration curled in her chest; what was this about?
It is probably something to do with Harriet, she grimaced inwardly.Maybe they want me to wear a plainer dress this season so the attention will be solely on her.
“Thank you, Radcliffe,” Evelina replied.
After inspecting her attire, an olive-green walking dress with minimal ornamentation and puff sleeves, she decided it was presentable enough for her difficult-to-please relatives, so she took off up the stairs—but it was only when Radcliffe twisted the handle to the drawing room, a dormant thought sparked in her mind.
Why did they specifically request I change clothes in the first place?
“Lord Carrington, Mr. and Mrs. Langford, Miss Frampton has arrived,” Radcliffe bowed.
Lord Carrington? Who in heavens is that?
