Chapter 21
Despite wearing a black gown and gloves, it seemed that every gentleman, of good birth and small funds, was still trying to fix his interest with Mantheria.
Although she’d only returned to town yesterday, she had already received no less than a dozen nosegays for the ball with cards assuring her that the gentleman or lord had long admired her and desired nothing more than to comfort her at this time of grief.
In the end, she did not wear any flowers to Becca’s engagement ball.
But once she entered her parents’ home, that didn’t stop her from being swarmed by every single gentleman, from age twenty-five to Lord Flemings, who was sixty-nine.
Mantheria couldn’t dance in her blacks, so there was no way to avoid or escape her would-be admirers.
She felt like Queen Penelope, besotted by suitors that she did not want and who cared nothing for her feelings and were pressing their suits anyway.
At least Sunny had listened to her and respected her wishes. But she shouldn’t think of him now. Her heart was still too tender, and she might cry. She loved him, but marrying Sunny would make them both so very unhappy. Although not marrying him had certainly not made her happy thus far.
Mr. Mills joined the group of single gentlemen that surrounded her and started droning on about the economy.
Mantheria couldn’t help but search the room for Sunny.
She wasn’t sure if he would be coming tonight; the gossip was that he hadn’t returned to town.
She didn’t know where he was and tried not to think of who he could be with.
“Since my sister is in mourning,” Wick said in a loud voice as he broke into the circle of suitors that surrounded her, “I find it in poor taste to attempt to monopolize her company. I suggest all of you go and find partners who have signaled their interest in dancing and socializing by the colors of their gowns.”
Chagrined and perhaps a bit embarrassed, seven gentlemen left the circle that had surrounded her. A few remained, as if assuming Wick’s words did not refer to themselves.
“I am merely trying to support Lady Glastonbury in her grief,” Lord Stapleton said.
He was a baron, near the age of forty, who had buried his first two wives and was the father of thirteen children.
He was openly seeking a mother for them, as well as a healthy bank account, if rumors were to be believed.
Wick’s hands clenched into fists, and the last thing that Mantheria wanted was for her eldest brother to show off his boxing skills at Becca’s ball.
She stepped between the two men. She was a duchess, after all, and used to taking care of herself.
“I appreciate your kind sentiments, my lord and sirs, but my brother is right. I am in mourning and would prefer to spend this ball with members of my family.” Mantheria knew that it was bad manners, but she couldn’t help but add, “Nor do I seek a second husband. If you are picturing yourself in such a role, I can assure you that you are wasting your time.”
Mantheria took Wick’s arm and pulled him away from the last three suitors, who all appeared stunned by her blunt words. When they were out of earshot, she said quietly, “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“Sunny went to Sunderland House to work on his home estate.”
His estate. Mantheria was eager to know how her friend got on, but she was too embarrassed to ask. Wick was not in her confidence, at least not for matters of the heart, but he was Sunny’s best friend, and she wondered how frank he’d been with her brother.
“I told him to go.”
Mantheria stopped walking and looked up into her brother’s face. “You did what?”
Wick smiled at her expense. “I told him to go and prove he’s worthy of you.
Matthew helped him pull his estate out of debt over the last dozen years, but Sunny’s always left the daily running to his steward.
As estate owners, we both know that all estates requires regular oversight.
And he needed to stand up to his mother. ”
The Duchess of Sunderland had worn mourning clothes for her husband for over thirty years.
She even wore a black veil over her face.
It was as if time itself had stopped when the late duke had died in a horse-riding accident.
The duchess also hated Mantheria and had for the last dozen years.
She was always trying to persuade Sunny to marry any number of heiresses to recover the family fortune. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Sunny had always let her rule the roost at home, and he is now asserting himself as the master of the house. The clocks are once again wound and running—no longer stopped at the time of the late duke’s death.
And Sunny has rid the entire house of all black crepe—from the windows to the mantles.
I confess, I will miss the spooky feel it used to have.
I was certain every time that I stayed that it was haunted, whether by his late father or any number of his ancient relatives.
Still, the furniture is outdated, and it will cost a great deal to bring the house up to the current standard.
Not that Sunny knows much about fashion or style. Or housekeeping, for that matter.”
“Neither do you,” Mantheria said pertly.
Wick threw back his head and laughed. “Touché, sister. Truer words have never been spoken. I leave such things to my capable wife . . . but in all things, we are equal partners. I ask for her insight in all my major estate decisions, and Louisa is kind enough to solicit my opinion on family and household matters. I find that she always sees something that I haven’t—and hopefully I’m occasionally useful to her as well. In more than the bedroom, I mean.”
Mantheria let go of Wick’s arm to give it a push. “That is hardly a respectable topic to discuss with your little sister.”
“It was just a joke,” Wick said, smiling and unrepentant.
“You used to laugh at my jokes before you became so serious and respectable and sad. I must confess that I miss the old you. Now I worry that if I were to clobber you with a pillow, you wouldn’t hit me back and send me running.
It’s quite unnatural for a Stringham to be so well-behaved.
It makes me wonder if you might be in a decline. ”
She missed her old self, too, but how could she possibly go back to who she had been? Time and experiences had made Mantheria who she was now. She’d learned to keep herself both small and safe. The less she felt, the less what anyone said or did in society could hurt her.
Wick continued. “I asked Papa if he believed in fairy changelings, but he assured me that you weren’t one. I suppose any naturalist would say the same thing. I do have my doubts though.”
Mantheria couldn’t help herself. She gave Wick another shove on the shoulder. “I am not a fairy changeling. I am merely a grown woman and mother. I could not be a wild child forever.”
“You could be happy again though. I don’t think you are now.”
“My happiness is none of your business, brother.”
“I suppose not,” Wick said, no longer smiling at her. “But Sunny’s is. He’s like a brother to me, and I know more about his faults than anyone, but there’s no one else I would turn to in a bind than him. I know that he will come through for me. He’s more responsible than you realize.”
Mantheria breathed in deeply. There was a gulf of difference between a friend and a husband.
She knew that Sunny was a wonderful friend, but that didn’t make him wonderful husband material, even if she wished to marry again, which she didn’t.
“Unless it was financial, and then you would go to Matthew or me.”
Her brother placed a hand on her shoulder, and she could feel the weight of his size and strength pressing down on her.
“I’ve bungled it. But what I wanted to tell you is that everything is better with the right person by your side.
Even the bad is more endurable with Louisa next to me. Just think about that.”
Wick moved his hand from her shoulder, and Mantheria brought her own palm there and massaged away the pressure she felt from his words.
She’d seen firsthand how much happier Wick had become since he married Louisa eight years before.
He had changed almost beyond recognition for the better.
But Louisa was a wonderful wife, and Mantheria was not.
She was better at leading than at partnership.
She liked to be in control at all times.
Of herself. Her finances. And her son. To marry would mean the loss of her hard-fought rights to be economically independent.
She could not go back to being a pawn, once she’d played chess as a queen.
Her eldest brother walked away from Mantheria, and her sister Frederica came up, holding two glasses of pink lemonade. There was a slight round bump signifying her growing pregnancy. She handed a tumbler to Mantheria. “I thought you might be thirsty after your lecture.”
Mantheria took a sip. “My lecture?”
“From Wick,” Frederica said with a chortle. “He is sure that he knows better than you how to live your life. In fact, every member of the family is ready to give you unsolicited advice at this ball. All of them wish for you to marry Sunny and live happily ever after like in a fairy tale.”
She held up her glass as if to toast her sister. “Even you?”
“Yes,” Frederica said with another sardonic smile.
“But I am going to wait for the opportune moment, something I learned from you. Despite what you may think, I did listen to you every time you got on your high horse and gave me a lecture. And occasionally, I even took your good advice. Although most of the time, I had to learn the hard lessons for myself. We all do.”
Mantheria felt her cheeks grow hot. “I am sorry if I hurt your feelings as I did Becca’s. I didn’t—I wanted to—I thought I was helping.”