“Did Mama know the Duke of Maxwell?” Meredith ventured, still hating how timid her voice sounded.
“What does that have to do with it? One duke is as good as the next. Maxwell’s finances are in order. And he’s willing to marry you. He doesn’t seem to care that you do unladylike things like wear breeches and ride horses astride.”
Meredith's cheeks burned. She’d spent her childhood knowing she wasn’t exactly a proper young woman. But she’d had no one to show her. Other than her governess, who had been more interested in gossiping with the other servants than doing her job. As a result, Meredith had spent much of her youth gallivanting about the countryside with her brother and Griffin. She’d never considered how it might affect her marriage prospects. And if Father had been concerned about that, why hadn’t he ever mentioned it?
She shook her head. There was no time to worry about that now. It took effort to breathe with the notion of marrying the elderly Duke of Maxwell encompassing her every thought. She had to think. Father had said one duke was as good as the next. Perhaps she should come at this a different way.
“I was hoping to catch the Duke of Grovemont’s eye,” she offered with a bright smile.
Her father scowled. “Grovemont’s still a pup. And his family’s holdings aren’t as vast as Maxwell’s.”
Meredith swallowed hard. This couldn’t be happening. Unwanted tears filled her eyes. “Yes, but?—”
“But nothing. Maxwell it is.” Father slammed his fist on the top of the desk, making the ominous stack of papers bounce.
Meredith folded her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. “But, Father, I don’t want?—”
Father leaned over the desk until his face was level with hers. Spittle flew from his lips. “What you want has nothing to do with this.” His voice was hard and cold. His face had become a frightening mask. “You’re my daughter and you’ll do as you’re told. The papers have already been signed.”
Meredith swallowed hard and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. She nodded slowly as the reality of the situationfiltered through her mind. Father was right. Her entire life, he’d only asked this one thing of her. And it was what Mama had wanted too. Hadn’t Meredith always wanted to please Father? Hadn’t she always wanted him to approve of her? To praise her for something? She would do as she was told.
“Very well,” she said stoically. It wasn’t as if she’d be the first or the last young woman to marry a man of her father’s choosing. She had to be brave. “I’ll marry Maxwell.”
Father’s face transformed into a wide, satisfied smile, and relief spread through Meredith’s veins. She’d finally done it. She’d finally made him happy. He’d never smiled at her before, she realized.
“Excellent,” Father said, straightening back to his full height. “We’ll have the banns read and put the announcement in the papers.”
Father left the room whistling.
Meredith cried herself to sleep.
Ash had madea jest of it. Griffin had first tried to talk her out of it, then he’dleft. But she’d gone through with the marriage, nonetheless. Of course, she’d gone on to be a colossal failure. She’d failed to do the one thing that was her sacred duty as a wife—produce an heir. Father had died a few years after her wedding. At least he hadn’t lived to witness her shame.
Meredith shook her head to clear it of the unsettling thoughts of the past. Tonight wasn’t about bad memories. Tonight was about Gemma’s debut…and Griffin’s impending betrothal. Her friends needed her help. Gemma was a dear, and she loved the girl as if she were her own sister. And Griffin, well, Griffin had been like a second brother to her for as long as she could remember.
Meredith was worried about Griff. She’d worried abouthim for years, actually. Even though they’d had a row the night before he left—the night she’d told him about her betrothal to Maxwell—she’d spent endless nights praying for Griffin’s safe return from the war.
He’d been different when he returned. There was no denying that. He’d had lines around the corners of his eyes, a permanent furrow to his brow, and he was far less quick to smile. But her dear friend was still there, and over the course of the past year, she’d been able to cajole him into laughing a bit more, enjoying himself a little…to remember the carefree, happy young man he’d once been.
Meredith had needed time too, of course. The years with Maxwell had taken their toll. To be sure, she hadn’t been sad when her husband died, and she hadn’t even felt guilty over her lack of grief. Awful of her, perhaps. But how could you mourn someone you barely knew? Someone who’d treated you like a stranger? Someone who harshly blamed you for failing to give him an heir?
No. She wouldn’t think of it. Wouldn’t think ofhim. That was all in the past, and it was high time both Meredith and Griffin stopped living in the past. They needed to enjoy themselves.
Griffin had an obligation to marry and produce an heir. He might not care about making his father proud, but his mother desperately wanted a grandchild. It was all she talked about. And Meredith and Griffin both loved the duchess very much.
As for Meredith enjoying herself…there was something else. Something she intended to do this Season. Something she hoped would clear away all the bad memories from her time with Maxwell. Something long overdue that she only planned to share with herclosestfriends. But first, she must see to Gemma and Griffin.
Meredith scanned the ballroom to find Gemma standingin a large group of young ladies near the wall. The eighteen-year-old was wearing a white satin gown with pearls at her neck and matching pearl earbobs. Gemma was tall and willowy with short, curly dark hair and large, kind eyes. Gemma liked to say that she was awkward. That she was too tall, her neck far too long, her eyes far too large for her face, and that her hair was an unruly mess. But she’d been assured repeatedly by her mother that the women in their family took a bit longer than others to come into their beauty. They all expected that once she blossomed, Gemma would be more beautiful than they could imagine. In the meantime, her lack of classical beauty didn’t bother Gemma in the least. Perpetually happy, the girl had decided to devote herself this Season to enjoying herself and helping her many friends find agreeable matches. It was so like Gemma to think of others before herself. She had the most fiercely loyal, kind heart of anyone Meredith had ever known, and that, of course, was far more important than physical beauty.
Gemma came galloping over and stopped in front of Meredith, tapping her foot on the parquet floor.
“You won’t believe what’s happened,” Gemma announced, crossing her arms over her chest. The girl had a fierce look in her eye that Meredith recognized immediately. The Southbury Stubborn Streak.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Meredith reached out to touch Gemma’s gloved elbow.
“Lady Mary Costner, that’s what’s wrong,” Gemma nearly growled.
Meredith narrowed her eyes. She’d heard that name before and it was never associated with anything good. “What did Lady Mary do?”
