Page 21 of Marrying Bluebeard

“Marguerite!” I let out a startled laugh. “You never swear.”

“I’m a lady of many layers.” She leans into my side, smiling at our reflections. “And despite what society thinks, I don’t need you or any of our brothers to take care of me. I already have a cottage in the country, and I’m not so high in the instep that I can’t labor for a living. If the business fails, Julia and I can sew, garden, wash clothes, clean houses, or whatever else we need to do to stay afloat. I’d rather spend my days working hard, than tie my nights to someone I didn’t love. So don’t let Julien pressure you into something you don’t want for my sake. I only pushed you toward Lord Harrison because I thought he might make you happy. It wasn’t to please myself or anyone else in the family.”

I take her hand in mine, resting them both on my lap. “I’m eternally grateful I was blessed with you as my sister, Margie. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me all these years.”

“Patience.” A mischievous twinkle lights her eyes. “Lots and lots of patience.”

“Very funny. And here I thought we were having a special, sisterly moment.” I fake a pout as I turn on the bench, lifting my nose in the air. All while eyeing the closest pillow.

“Aw, I was just teasing.” Marguerite twists around just as I leap up and snatch the pillow off the bed. I land a solid hit to the chest before she has time to react.

“How’s that patience now?” I crow.

“Why you—” She’s up and grabbing her own pillow within seconds. The war wages through a battlefield of feathers and doesn’t cease until we’re both lying breathless on the bed, matching grins on our faces. Marguerite rolls her head to the side with an expectant look. “Well? Are you going to do as Julien wishes and accept Lord Harrison’s proposal tomorrow night? Or are you going to stand your ground and hold out for a man of your choosing?”

But what if the man of my choosing doesn’t choose me?

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “Miles seems kind, and he makes me laugh. He wouldn’t be the worst choice in the world.”

“Do you think he’d understand your… special abilities?”

“The ones you think I’m faking?”

She frowns. “I’m willing to consent that you believe they’re real.”

“How generous.”

Marguerite purses her lips. “Do you think you could love him?”

I roll over, giving her my back. Whisper appears, and butts her head against mine before curling into my side. “Perhaps,” I murmur, and it’s not entirely untrue. What do I really know of love anyway? What I feel for Bertrand is violent and impulsive, not soft and sweet like the looks I see Marguerite give Julia when she’s not looking. The hollow feeling in my gut, the ache in my chest when I think of him marrying Miss Dellum aren’t symptoms of love. I simply want what I can’t have. It’s a foolish, childish feeling, and I’ll have none of it.

I am not in love with Bertrand de Montragoux.

No matter how much my heart tries to tell me otherwise.

The following day passes in a blur, with everyone retiring early to rest before the closing ball that evening. Aunt Charlotte invited the locals to join us, so there’s already a buzz of mingling voices as Julien leads me to the ballroom. I press my hands against the cinched bodice of my silk dress, willing the nerves away. It’s just a dance. A dance that could determine the direction of my future. I blanch, glancing about for a nearby vase should I need to cast up my accounts.

Julien draws my hand into the crook of his arm and layers his atop it. “Lord Harrison is a good man. He’ll make you happy, I promise.”

I think I hate my brother just a little.

A footman opens the door, and Julien ushers us into the room. A string quartet plays softly as people of varying ranks sip champagne and make idle conversation. The dancing won’t begin until everyone has arrived. And Bertrand and I will open. I can’t decide if the thought excites or terrifies me more. My gaze automatically seeks him out. I expect to find him beside Miss Dellum, but to my surprise, I see her speaking with Miles. It takes a moment, but I finally spy Bertrand half-hidden behind a column—watching me.

My stays suddenly feel much too tight.

“Adelaide, darling, you look absolutely stunning this evening.” Aunt Charlotte sweeps over, blocking my view, and I reluctantly give her my attention. She winks at Julien. “You don’t mind if I steal her away, do you?”

“Not at all.” He gives her a short bow, and before I know it, I’m being ushered to the other side of the room. At some point a flute of champagne appears in my hand, but I don’t attempt to sip it until Aunt Charlotte stops moving.

“This ought to do.” She looks around the secluded corner she’s whisked us into before giving me a bright smile. “I feel as if I’ve hardly had time to say two words to you this entire visit. Not that I blame you for keeping busy—I did handpick the guest list after all.”

“I’ve had a lovely time, and everyone has been quite amiable.” I hesitate. “You know them all well, then?”

Her lips curve into a knowing smile. “Well enough to invite them into my home. Why? Was there anyone in particular you wished to know about?”

I blush. “Oh, no, not… not particularly.”

“Hmm.” She glances out over the ballroom. “There is one gentleman I invited with you in mind, actually. Although your brother seems to favor the young Lord Harrison.” She gives me a shrewd look. “I wonder which you prefer?”