Chapter Nine
“Good morning, my lady.”
Liberty groaned at Helen’s overly cheerful greeting. Then winced as she threw open the curtains and allowed the sun to stream in.
“Gah,” was all she could muster.
“Are you well, my lady? It is not often I have to rouse you from your bed,” Helen said.
Liberty forced herself upright and into a seated position. “Is there a reason you are waking me with the sun?”
Helen deliberately looked from Liberty to the window, where the sun had clearly risen.
“Oh, very well. I read late into the night as I could not put my book down,” Liberty said. “But in fairness that does not happen often.”
“Not anymore, but it used to,” her maid said.
The problem was she’d had to stay home due to the injury on her head, and that had allowed her time to think about Tobias, which she’d not wanted to do. Therefore, she’d read.
Liberty thought she’d dealt with her feelings toward Tobias Corbyn. Stomped down the anger and resentment over what he’d done to her, but spending time in his company once again had brought it back to the surface.
For years she’d seen him, but they’d not spoken a word to each other. She’d been more than happy with that. Now, however, that had changed. He’d carried her to his carriage and looked after her.
Perfidious man.
“Your family is at present sitting down for their morning meal, and your father wishes you to join them,” Helen added.
“Is my house confinement over, then?”
“It would appear so,” her maid added.
She washed and dressed. Helen looked at her head and declared it was a great deal better. Liberty left her room and went to see her family.
Elegant and stately, as befitted a duke’s household, her father’s townhouse was decorated in the subtle tones of celestial blues and soft creams with touches of gold. Her mother had commissioned the renowned decorator Ludlow last year to completely redecorate the entire house.
Passing the two tall windows that looked down to her favorite garden seat, Liberty saw the day was at least fine, even if her mood was not. Opening the door, she walked into the breakfast parlor.
“She’s frowning. Everyone, run for cover,” her brother Edward said by way of a greeting.
“Very amusing,” Liberty said, poking out her tongue.
“Manners if you please, children,” their mother said. “How is your head this morning?”
“Much better, thank you.” Liberty loaded her plate from the sideboard and sat next to Edward.
“Excellent. It is the Potter ball tonight. You can attend.”
Shorter than her daughter, the Duchess of Talbot had a sweet round face, and gentle nature unless she wanted something.
Then she was tenacious. She laughed often and was more than happy with her life exactly as it was.
And who wouldn’t be when you had pots of money and servants to run hither and yon for you?
“Wonderful, I can hardly wait,” Liberty said.
“Such enthusiasm, sister.”
Edward was younger than Liberty by eight years, and a surprise to the entire family when he’d arrived. Their father had been ecstatic, of course, that he had an heir.
He would be tall, like the man seated at the end of the table behind a newspaper. Dark-haired, with her eyes, he was turning out to be strong-willed, much to his father’s delight. Apparently it was acceptable to be strong willed if you were the heir, but not the daughter.
“I had a chat with Morris this morning, Liberty,” her father said lowering his newspaper. “You omitted a few pertinent facts about what happened that day when the carriage wheel broke and you were forced to stay at that inn.”
“What happened?” her mother demanded.
“It’s really nothing—”
“Two highwaymen attempted to pull over Liberty’s carriage, and she shot one, and Jasper the other, and the men fled. Then she fell out of the carriage, which appears to be the only truthful part of the story she told us.”
“Dear Lord,” her mother whispered.
“Nothing exciting like that ever happens to me,” Edward said.
“It seems Lord Corbyn stepped in to help you to an inn,” her father added, eyes narrowed with anger. “And stayed there with you over night to ensure your safety.”
Silence greeted those words. Liberty did not speak and simply picked up the crumpet on her plate and took a large bite.
She hadn’t wanted to worry them, and so had not told them the entire truth.
Liberty had hoped the staff who had accompanied her would not discuss the incident with her father. Clearly, they had.
“Tobias Corbyn?” her mother asked. “Our neighbor, and your old friend?”
“Are there other Lord Corbyns in society then?” Liberty asked.
“There is no need for that tone, daughter,” her father said.
“How terrifying for you, Liberty,” her mother added. “I’m sorry you went through that, darling, but how lovely you and Lord Corbyn have reconnected. I never understood why you were friends one day and not the next.”
“Not one day, mother. He went away, and we grew apart,” Liberty lied. No way was the truth ever coming out.
“Lord Corbyn took you in his carriage. What did you talk about?” her mother persisted. “You must have had much to catch up on.”
“Nothing. I had just hurt my head. Besides, we have been in society together for three years.”
“But I have yet to see you speak or dance together,” her mother persisted. She was good at that. Talking at a person continuously until they broke down and told her exactly what she wanted to know.
“We should have taken you with us, even ill,” her father said.
“It could have happened if I was in your carriage too,” Liberty said, reaching over to pat the hand that was clenched around his newspaper.
He was a good man, and life in their family during the early years had been wonderful.
Things changed when Liberty came to London for her first season with the expectation that her focus was now on marrying, and marrying well.
The carefree life she’d once lived was over.
Now she had to always dress perfectly, and must at all times behave like a lady.
Pushing her glasses up her nose, Liberty wondered who she could get to tighten them, as they had definitely loosened since that tumble she took out the carriage.
“It will not happen again,” her father said ominously. “And I will thank Lord Corbyn when I next see him.”
“Oh, there is no need—”
“There is every need. You will also not be traveling alone again, Liberty, and that is my final word on the matter.”
“I was not alone. I had three of your staff with me.”
“Yes, well, it is done, and you are safe. Now our focus this year is finding you a husband,” her mother said.
As it was every year, but Liberty didn’t mention that.
She’d been a failure from the first society event she walked into.
Her mother had refused to let her wear her eyeglasses, so she had to squint a lot, and when you coupled that with nerves it had not gone well.
By the end of the first evening she’d hurled the entire contents of a glass of champagne over Miss Hamley and walked into a butler bearing a tray laden with glasses, sending him, and it, flying all over some guests.
It had been an inauspicious beginning. But she was a duke’s daughter, and with time, Liberty had learned to play the society game.
She’d subdued her personality, raised her chin, and carried on.
“We are to host a ball,” her father said suddenly.
“What? Why?” Liberty asked.
“We have not hosted one for a while, and it is time,” her mother said, not meeting her eyes.
“You told me that hosting a ball takes so much effort, and there are others in society who seem to enjoy it, so let them,” Liberty added.
Her mother waved a hand about. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” Liberty asked her father.
He was still a handsome man. In fact, she’d overheard Lady Gulliver say a few weeks ago, that it was deucedly unfair that the man did not appear to age a jot.
His hair was black and shot through with gray, and he used his dark brows to maximum effect when scowling, which he usually was at her and Edward at least once in every day.
“Nothing at all,” he said also not meeting Liberty’s eyes.
Something was off here, but what?
“What are you not telling me?” Liberty said again more slowly.
“Nothing, dear,” her mother said far too quickly. She then laughed nervously.
“Definitely something.”
“Your mother and I have been talking—”
“Seven words that never go well for either of us,” she said to Edward, who snorted.
“It’s time, Liberty, to prepare yourself for the future before it is too late,” her father said.
“Future?” Liberty asked, feeling her stomach sink.
“Marriage, of course, dear,” her mother said.
“Our fear is you are not putting your heart into securing a match,” her father added. “I’ve had some offers, but foolishly discussed them with you—”
“Foolishly?” Liberty’s voice rose.
“I am your father and know what is best for you. Your mother convinced me you would not marry without first finding love. I agreed with her, but clearly that is not going to happen so things must change.”
Edward was applying himself to vigorously buttering a crumpet now and not making eye contact.
“I don’t want to marry, and after my time in society thought you understood that,” Liberty said with a calm she wasn’t feeling. “I was on the back foot from the day I entered, older than every other debutante, and already on the shelf,” she added.
“We want you to be happy, Liberty. We want you to have a family and—”
“I can be happy looking after Edward’s children,” she cut her father off.
“It would be an honor to have you living with us, sister,” he said, nodding his head regally, like he already had a wife and six children.
“You need to marry, Liberty; it is for the best,” her mother said. “I know you will be a wonderful mother.”
“I understand your need to find the right man, but this is your fourth season, daughter, and of the four offers you’ve received thus far, none have been suitable as far as you were concerned,” her father said.