Her aunt’s voice sounded in her ear:You should have thought of that earlier, Veronica.
She didn’t feel well. What she wanted most to do was to go to bed, Perhaps draw the covers up around her and stay there for the next year or so. Just then, however, she didn’t have a bed. Or a roof over her head.
If dreams were pennies, we’d all be rich—one of her father’s sayings.
She was not going to cry.
Really, she wasn’t.
Tears are foolish.How many times had Aunt Lilly said that to her?
She turned her head as the carriage began to move, watching the fog-shrouded scenery. The square was quite orderly and lovely in its way. Everything was regulated and precise. The iron gate was never allowed to sag or rust. The trees were trimmed so they had a pleasing appearance.
Nothing was ever amiss in Dorchester Square.
Except for her.
She was the only odd creature in Dorchester Square.
People did not come in one shape or size. People had different colors of eyes, different shades of hair. Some people were tall, while others were short. Some were rotund, while others were scrawny.
Very well, she wasn’t like her cousins. She didn’t have their blond prettiness. Her hair was an unremarkable brown. Her eyes were the same color as her mother’s, a soft green that on some days faded to a brownish color. They had an odd dark ring around them, so they were arresting, whatever color they chose to be for that day. She was not possessed of many social graces, having been reared in an isolated part of Scotland. She was truly amazed by the life she saw around her and wanted to know the answers to a thousand mysteries.
Surely that wasn’t considered odd.
Despite being four years older than Amanda, the oldest cousin, she sometimes felt young and naïve compared to all of them. She knew nothing of the London season, according to Amanda. Nor, according to Alice, could she dance well enough to comport herself properly in a ballroom. She was not, as she’d kindly been told by Algernon, the type of girl who’d attract the attention of the right kind of suitor.
She’d responded she didn’t want to attract anyone.
Adam had countered with a reassuring smile, but most of the time Adam had his nose in a book and couldn’t be bothered with what was going on around him.
Anne was the nicest of the girls, and only because she was engaged to be married soon and consumed with her own affairs. In the last seven months, Anne had undergone a transformation. She was no longer as flighty, and had taken to having an almost matronly air. Alice said it was because she felt superior to them because she was due to be married and move to Cornwall with her baronet.
One day, Anne had confided to her that she was already planning the names of her children.
“I shall not name them all names that begin with A,” she said. “Instead, I think good, biblical names would be best.”
Veronica hadn’t an answer. Nor did she have any explanation for what she sensed in Anne: a growing dismay, a certain kind of dread like black ink dissolving in water. The longer it remained, the more it spread, until the whole surface of the water itself was gray and no longer clear.
On that day, only weeks ago, she’d wanted to lean over, place her hand on top of Anne’s, and ask her what was wrong.
Anne would no more have confided in her than any of her cousins. Instead, she would’ve laughed gaily and made some cutting remark, such as, “You’re being fey again, aren’t you? Is it a Scottish thing?”
Sometimes, the impressions she got were so strong she had to make a concerted effort to block everyone out. Otherwise, she couldn’t even hear herself think for all the conflicting feelings. The worst part of it was that sometimes she felt as if those feelings—anguish, joy, and fear—belonged to her. When it got to be too much, the only remedy was to close the door on her chamber and seek out the silence.
She was not odd.
Was it wrong of her to want to know what learned men thought?
And even if she were, surely such a quest for knowledge wasn’t deserving of banishment.
Dear God, what was to happen to her?
She glanced at Montgomery Fairfax.
He was taking her to his home.
She’d escaped the Mercaii only to find herself in a worse predicament.
