“Jenna. Jenna! Are you awake?”
Jenna groaned and dug her head under the pillow. “Go away, Quinn.”
The door opened and she heard muffled footsteps approach her bed. “Come on, sleepy head. Stu is here to see you.”
She sat up yanking the pillow off her head. “Already?” She blinked and rubbed her eyes. The few hours of sleep since her return from Mr. Douglas’s home still left her feeling groggy and disoriented.
Quinn nodded regretfully. “Afraid so. Sebastian is entertaining him in the drawing room until you go rescue him.”
“Why should I go rescue him?” she grumbled. “He likes Stuart so much, let him marry him.”
Sympathy softened her brother’s face, and brown eyes, so much like her own, darkened in sadness. “I wish there was another way.”
She instantly felt remorse. Of her two brothers, she was closest to Quinn, and she had no desire to make him feel badly for her. “But there isn’t another way,” she said lightly, as she threw back the bed covers. “Stuart may not be the man I would have chosen to marry, but Mamma and Papa are counting on me, and I won’t let them down.”
“It doesn’t seem fair though,” he said softly. “Sebastian isn’t being pressured to marry, and he is the heir.”
“Hand me my wrap,” she directed, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. He retrieved it from a nearby chair and handed it over. Rapidly pulling it on, she rose and walked to the vanity. As she brushed the long locks of her hair, she gazed at her brother in the mirror. “Sebastian isn’t being pressured to marry because Papa isn’t feeling his mortality yet. Just you wait. Let him have one bout of illness, and he will be after Sebastian to marry and produce an heir.”
She turned around in her chair, shaking her brush at Quinn. “You, on the other hand, brother dear, are in an enviable position. No one cares if you marry straight away, and you will most assuredly be free to choose your own wife.”
He grinned back at her. “I guess being a middle child does have its advantages.”
“What is Stuart wearing today?” she asked with an exasperated sigh.
Quinn chuckled. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh, but I do,” she persisted. “I’ve no wish to clash with him as I did the last time he paid call.” She winced as she recalled the garish ensemble Stuart had arrived in, and how truly awful it looked against her green print muslin.
“Hmmm, let’s see. Pink waistcoat with a lovely jewel-encrusted lapel, gold breeches, and the daintiest pair of tasseled boots I think I’ve ever laid eyes on. If ever a man needed Beau Brummell’s guidance, it is he.”
“No! Surely you jest.Pink?”
“I only wish I was jesting.”
“Dear heavens, Quinn. Whatever shall I wear againstthat? Stop laughing and help me!”
Oh, he was useless. She threw a pillow at herdearsibling who was literally howling in laughter. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, tried to don a more serious expression, and fell off his chair laughing again.
She rolled her eyes and strode over to her wardrobe, yanking open the doors and rifling through her selection of dresses. A mischievous giggle overtook her as she pulled a gown out and turned to Quinn. She held it up against her chest. “How about this one?”
He took one look at the deep pink gown with purple ribbons and clutched his side in laughter once again. “Wherever did you get such a horrid gown?” he gasped.
“It was a gift from my intended,” she said dryly.
“Stop! You are killing me over here,” he said weakly.
“All right. It seems my best defense is white. After all, white compliments everything, right?”
“I can’t imagine anything complimenting Stu’s get up,” he said, chuckling still.
“Go on now,” she said, shooing him from her room. “I must get dressed and go face the popinjay.”
“I’ll see you downstairs.” He gave a smart salute.
She shook her head as he closed the door behind him. At least she could jest about Stuart with him. Sebastian would be horrified if he knew how she really felt. And he would never know if she could help it.
Ringing for her maid, she settled into her chair to begin her toilette.
