Chapter 21 #2
Her sister bumped shoulders with her. “Most of the time, you were. Giving unsolicited advice is what sisters do best. That, and ignoring said advice.”
Despite the feelings of guilt that were threatening to drown her, Mantheria laughed.
Frederica linked her free arm with Mantheria’s. “And it wasn’t such a bad thing that Norwich had to work harder for our Becca. She’s the best of us.”
Mantheria’s eyes searched the ballroom for her youngest sister, and she did look radiant and happy in the arms of her fiancé. “I shouldn’t have tried to change one thing about her.”
“Tell her that,” Frederica said, tightening her hold on Mantheria’s arm. “And maybe tell yourself the same thing; you’re perfect just the way you are.”
Unbidden and unwanted, tears sprang to Mantheria’s eyes. She was so far from perfect that it was laughable.
“And let yourself eat cake for goodness’ sake. Life is too short not to be tasty.”
A loud laugh broke from Mantheria’s lips, and she felt several censorious eyes upon her.
Her sister didn’t seem to notice them at all and merely bowed her head in acknowledgement whenever she made eye contact with another guest as they weaved through the ballroom to the supper room.
Typically, one ate with their dance partner.
But since she was in mourning, Mantheria would not have any dance partners that evening.
Not that she wanted one. And it was very nice to sit with her sister and eat cake.
She’d almost forgotten how lovely the light texture felt on her tongue.
Frederica bumped shoulders with her again. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
Holding up her fork, Mantheria said, “It’s delicious.”
Mantheria learned as the night went on that Frederica had been right about more than just the cake. As soon as she left the supper room, she was accosted by her mother and father. “We only want you to be happy, Mantheria. That is all your papa and I have ever wanted.”
Papa slouched next to her and harrumphed. “Norwich is prettier than a peacock. I quite prefer Sunny’s more manly looks. I daresay that he would make an excellent son-in-law.”
“You’re both so sly, Papa. I cannot possibly fathom your or Mama’s meaning,” Mantheria said drily.
There could be no greater difference between two men: Becca’s dandy fiancé, the Earl of Norwich, with his beautiful face and flawless clothes, and Sunny’s crooked nose and flyaway light hair.
In personality as well. Norwich was ruthlessly precise in everything that he did, and Sunny was like his nickname, easy-going with a carefree attitude.
Her father laughed loudly. “You’re too clever by half.”
Mama pinched her lips. “You are very clever and very lovable, my dear. That is all we are saying. We know that you will do the right thing.”
“And that you should marry Sunny,” Papa added. Her mother shot him a sharp look, and her father merely shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind some more grandchildren either.”
Happily, at that precise moment, an old acquaintance hailed her parents, and Mantheria made good her escape to the conservatory at the back of the house. It was full of plants and a few exotic birds. Exhaling, she sat down amongst the flowers. At least no guests would find her here.
Only brothers.
Matthew strode in carrying a candle. “There you are, Mantheria. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
She did not stand up from her wicker chair at his entrance to acknowledge him. Nor did she intend to be civil. “Please say that you are not here to give me well-meaning and unwanted advice.”
Her brother grinned and tapped the side of his nose.
“Both! I just wanted you to know, as Sunny’s financial advisor, that he is no longer in debt, and his estate is more prosperous than it’s ever been.
His fortune is nothing to yours, my clever sister, but he’s hardly hanging out for a wealthy wife. ”
Getting to her feet, Mantheria would rather be surrounded by foolish suitors than meddlesome family members. “I am not interested in marriage, and that is final. Stop pestering me about Sunny.”
“What about a new railroad scheme in Manchester? I can offer you family pricing on the stock shares. I won’t even charge you the snobbery fee.”
She huffed and brushed past him, leaving the conservatory.
She wandered back to the ballroom and saw Helen standing close to her husband.
Her younger sister was holding her small belly with both of her hands, making no attempt to hide her condition from society.
Mantheria nearly staggered from the longing that went through her for another baby of her own.
She’d loved growing up in a large family, and she’d always wanted several children.
But it was not meant to be, and she’d accepted that.
Recovering her composure, Mantheria managed to walk toward her sister with a fake smile. “How are you feeling?”
Helen didn’t smile back. She merely raised one eyebrow. “Don’t give me envious looks, Mantheria. If you want a babe of your own, I am certain that Sunny would happily provide one for you.”
Mantheria was mortified. Helen had always been blunt to a fault.
She glanced at Helen’s husband, Mark, who appeared to be losing the battle with his mirth.
His lips were tight, but his shoulders shook, and his handsome face was turning a bit red.
She swallowed. Her throat was uncomfortably thick. “I don’t want a baby.”
“Liar,” Helen retorted softly. She was never one to keep an opinion to herself.
Nor to follow the rules of what was acceptable conversation between society members.
Mark began making choking noises, and Mantheria feared that if she stayed much longer, the poor man would die from asphyxiation trying not to laugh in her face.
As she walked away from the couple, Mantheria felt her cheeks turning red.
How she longed to disappear! However, she wasn’t at this ball for herself.
It was for Becca. Pushing her shoulders back and trying for a more convincing smile, she walked up to some of her acquaintances, a mother and a chaperone who had no intention of dancing either.
“Lady March, how lovely you look this evening. That color of blue matches your eyes perfectly,” Mantheria said. “And Mrs. Stokes, is that a new diamond necklace? It appears to be priceless.”
Mrs. Stokes touched the ornate jewels that adorned her throat. “A gift from my husband. He is always showering me with gifts and trinkets.”
Husbands were the last thing that Mantheria wished to talk about, but she managed to respond politely, “Well, your husband has exquisite taste.”
“You know who else has exquisite taste?” Lady March said, glancing around the room as if trying to find someone. “Lord Sunderland, but I do not see him in attendance this evening. Usually, I can always find him at your side, Lady Glastonbury.”
If blood could boil, Mantheria was certain that hers was boiling at this very moment. Her face felt hot as she gave a breathless, artificial laugh. “Lord Sunderland is certainly a dear friend of our entire family. He’s been thick as thieves with Lord Cheswick since Eton.”
Mrs. Stokes fanned her pale face. “And he’s been thick as thieves with you since you separated from your husband eight years ago. How long do you plan on making the poor duke wait until you accept his hand in marriage?”
Mantheria opened her mouth and then closed it. These women were acquaintances, not friends, and she had no intention of spilling her soul or secrets to either of them.
Lady March winked at her. “My husband says that they’re already taking bets at Whites if you’ll accept the Duke of Sunderland. He says that half the gentlemen of the ton have wagered on it.”
Finding it hard to breathe and even harder to be civil, Mantheria bowed her head. “I am rather thirsty, if you’ll excuse me, ladies.”
She turned abruptly and walked away so that she didn’t have to hear them speak once again or ask any more embarrassing questions.
Mantheria walked to the punch table and accepted a glass from one of the footmen.
She drained it in one gulp. There was a strange tingling in her chest, and she found it difficult to get enough air when she breathed.
“I am nearly as thirsty as you,” Becca said, coming to her side and taking a glass of punch.
She sipped it daintily. Her cheeks were rosy, and her blue eyes sparkled with happiness.
Her gown was celestial blue and flattered her fuller figure.
Mantheria felt another pang of regret, for she had tried to steal this moment from her sister—or rather, tried to push a different suitor than whom Becca wanted.
Mantheria handed the empty cup back to the servant and turned to look at her happy little sister. “You are truly the belle of the ball, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier or more beautiful. You are perfect just as you are.”
Her little sister set down her own glass and surprised Mantheria by pulling her into a tight hug. “So are you. Maybe it’s time for you to leave the chrysalis and fly, sister. You weren’t meant to crawl on the ground, but to be a butterfly. The entire sky is waiting for you.”
Mantheria could only be relieved that at least Becca hadn’t mentioned Sunny by name. She returned the embrace and then stepped back. “You’re right.”
Becca winked at her. “It’s a family failing.”
* * *
Mantheria left the ball early that morning without bothering to say goodbye to any of the members of her family.
She didn’t wish to hear any more lectures about Sunny.
She would send them all a note explaining that she and Andrew were off to Avalon Palace.
Mantheria would see her family soon enough at Hampford Castle for her sister’s wedding.
It was not quite six o’clock in the morning, but Mantheria asked for her newly repaired traveling carriage to be ready within an hour with the two outriders and a second carriage for the servants.
Then, still in her black silk ball gown, she went up the stairs to the nursery and woke up Andrew.
Sitting up in his bed, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Is something wrong, Mama?”
“Roman soldiers do not sleep in,” Mantheria said, trying hard not to smile and failing miserably. “We must begin our training at once.”
He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Does this mean we are going home today?”
Mantheria’s heart filled with rare joy. “It does. As soon as we both change our clothes and eat our breakfast.”
Andrew hopped out of bed and moved toward his wardrobe, then stopped abruptly. “I liked visiting Cressy yesterday. I’ve missed her a lot. Can we ask her to come visit us at Avalon Palace?”
This time, Mantheria did not hesitate. “Of course. You can write her a letter, and I will formally issue the invitation. Hopefully, by the time she arrives, we will have improved our fencing skills.”
Her son grinned up at her. The top of his head was already at her shoulders, and soon, he would be taller than her. Perhaps too old to play anymore. She would not waste another day being proper.