“Whatisn’twrong with Eloise?” Lenora said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s mad that I invited an additional guest to Clarenmore Park for the house party.”
Bridget tilted her head. “Since when has she cared about the guest list?”
It was a well-known fact that Eloise didn’t give a fig about parties, balls, or social gatherings of any sort. She’d never tried to disguise her disdain, and for the vast majority of the Rosewood’s infamous summer house parties (an annual tradition heralding all the way back to their great-grandfather), she spent most of her time hiding upstairs or in a tree.
“Since I put Mr. St. Clair on it, apparently.”
“Who is Mr. St. Clair?”
“An entrepreneur. From America.” Lenora’s skirts swished between her ankles as she went to the front window overlooking the street and drummed her fingertips on the sill. “He and Eloise had some sort of altercation at the park earlier today, and I thought it best to extend an olive branch before she lit the entire tree on fire. If the gossip swirling about is to be believed, he is quite powerful and very influential in certain circles. Perth would like to start doing business with a shipping firm in Boston, and–”
“–and you haven’t given up on finding a husband for Eloise,” finished Bridget. “That explains why steam was pouring out of her ears when she passed me in the hall. A kettle on full boil wouldn’t have been as hot.”
Lenora’s fingers paused mid-drum. “I didn’t mention anything about a husband. I haven’t evenmetMr. St. Clair.”
Reading her eldest sister, Bridget surmised, wasn’t unlike reading a book by her favorite author, R.R. Cleghorn. The characters may have been different from story to story, but the basic plot remained the same. So, too, did Lenora’s desire to see all of her siblings happily married. With herself and Annabel checked off the list, and James nowhere to be found, it was only natural that Eloise would be next.
Whether Eloise wanted to be or not.
“Maybe you didn’t say anything outloud,” she acknowledged, “but it’s no mystery that Eloise has already thumbed her nose at every eligible bachelor in England and two from Spain. What choice left is there, but to branch out to another continent where hopefully no one has heard of her?”
“Italy,” Lenora sighed. “They were from Italy.”
“It’s hard to keep track.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
Sympathy flowed through Bridget; both for LenoraandEloise.
Her oldest sister had been raised on rules and etiquette. By nudging Eloise towards a courtship, she wasn’t trying to box her in, but rather give her the sort of happiness and security that she enjoyed as Perth’s wife. A union that had granted hermorefreedom, not less.
But Eloise did not view it that way.
Her youngest sister was already free to do as she pleased in any manner that she pleased it. To her, a husband wasn’t an offer of stability, but a dire threat to the independence that she held so dear. And whenever Lenora pushed the matter, however subtle she tried to be, she became a threat, too.
It was quite the conundrum.
Unfortunately, Bridget failed to see an easy or obvious answer.
“What if…what if Eloise just didn’t marry?” she suggested, combing her hair over her shoulder. Her coiffure had fallen from its pins while she was poking around in Lenora’s armoire, searching for a gown to borrow for the last ball of the Season.
The much-anticipated event would be held at the Edgemont Museum of Art and Histories, the former London residence of the late Duke of Edgemont, whom had bequeathed the palatial mansion to the Crown in defiance of his heir marrying a common born woman that he had not approved of.
Each year, the ball was given a different theme by the prestigious board of dowagers that had hosted it since its inception. This year, the theme wasShades of Midnight…to be interpreted by the guests at their own discretion.
Taking a rather literal approach, Bridget was planning to wear a dark blue dress. But as she’d already sent most of her belongings to Crofton Manor, the country estate that she shared with her husband and their two children, she was forced to rely upon Lenora’s vast array of gowns to satisfy the critical dowagers who had been known to have guests escorted out in shame if they failed to adhere to the theme.
“Not marry?” Lenora said blankly. “What do you mean?”
Bridget bit her lip. Here, she knew that she had to proceed with great caution…or risk turning her sister’s ire onto herself. “I mean…would it be such a terrible thing? If she didn’t have a husband? We’re not in the same dire straits that we were. Money is no longer a concern. Eloise could live out her days at Clarenmore Park if she wanted, or journey abroad, or even take up with a traveling group of acrobats.” She tried out a smile that Lenora did not return.
“Absolutely not,” said Lenora, her voice grimly flat. “Eloiseneedsa husband. Not for financial gain. You are correct in that regard. We shall always provide for her. But she requires someone other than me to give her boundaries. To hold her accountable for her actions. To present her with…with purpose. With focus. With responsibility. She cannot climb trees forever, Bridget.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Bridget said, but she didn’t feel–or sound–very convinced.
Lenora leaned her hip against the window, her breath fogging the glass as she resumed tapping her fingers on the sill. She stopped abruptly, dark brows pulling together as she cast her sister an abrupt glance. “Did we have afternoon plans that I’ve forgotten?”
“I don’t think so.”
