Chapter 7
“Why would you wait to discuss terms?” Evelina asked, swirling her glass of brandy. “I thought that was why you went to visit His Grace.”
Maria’s face heated, as she remembered with shameful clarity, the sight of the duke in a state of undress. Her eyes had hungrily roamed over his broad, muscular chest, and for just the briefest of moments, Maria thought that she might expire on the spot from how magnificent he was.
“His attention was otherwise occupied,” Maria replied, taking a sip of her own brandy to avoid elaborating further.
“Unfortunate,” Anna said.
“Indeed,” Theodora said. “I had hoped that the matter would be already settled.”
“Regrettably, no.” Maria sighed. “But he did not refuse my terms. I can take comfort in that, at least.”
“That is true,” Evelina said.
“But how do we know that he will listen to the terms in good faith?” Anna asked. “Perhaps, he only agreed to give Maria false hope.”
They were all seated together in the drawing room: Theodora, thrown over the settee like the love-worn heroine in some novel; Anna in a chair by the fire, the decanter close at hand; and Evelina in the remaining chair, across from Anna.
Maria had chosen to sit by the window, and she turned her face away from her friends, feigning as though she was deep in thought.
In truth, her thoughts had turned to the duke and how his strong arms had caught her before she could fall to the ground.
Desire curled perilously inside her. Perilous, because she was a strong woman.
Independent. Or so she had always thought.
What did it say about her if a few chance encounters made her so weak-kneed and desirous?
“Why would the duke want to give Maria false hope?” Theodora asked. “He was the one who posed the question of marriage, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” Evelina conceded.
“He truly was occupied with another matter,” Maria said. “I have no reason to believe that he was lying to be rid of me.”
She had seen that his attention was otherwise occupied. Maria considered telling them, so they would not worry. But she feared that she would be unable to reveal the truth without becoming awkward and flustered.
And she wanted to work through her thoughts just a little more before she released them into the world.
Francesca, the parlor maid, entered the room. “I beg pardon for the interruption,” she said.
Evelina tilted her head towards the maid. “Nonsense! You could never be an interruption.”
Francesca smiled tentatively. She was a comely, young woman with green eyes and blonde curls, but something about her lovely face was pinched.
“What is the matter?” asked Theodora, seeming to observe precisely what Maria had.
“You have a guest. It is the Earl of Sunspire,” Francesca said. “He says that he must speak to Lady Maria at once. It is allegedly a matter of great urgency.”
“I see,” Evelina said.
Maria bit the inside of her cheek. “I suppose I should not be surprised. He has probably come to…”
To do what? In truth, she did not know. Maria had been gone for days, though. Of course, he would have received word that she had not done as she had promised.
“He will do nothing that we do not allow,” Evelina said firmly.
“That is right,” Anna said. “The Corset Chronicles is our refuge, and if your father has come to cause you some difficulty or harm, we will not allow it.”
“Should we send him away?” Theodora asked.
Maria shook her head. “If we do, he will only seek me out later. No, it is best for me to hear what he has to say right away.”
Then, she would—at least—be safe with the other three standing nearby and able to support her. That situation would be far preferable to being left alone to face her father and his fury.
“As you wish,” Francesca said, curtseying.
The maid hurried from the room, and Maria uncurled from where she sat. She straightened her spine and clasped her hands in her lap.
“You look as though you are awaiting the gallows,” Evelina said.
“Do I? Well, I should like to think that my father has contemplated his misdeeds and found redemption, but I have my doubts.”
“We shall hope for the best,” Anna said, although she sounded equally uncertain.
After a moment, soft footfalls sounded in the other room. Maria inwardly braced herself for the coming confrontation. She curled her fingers into her skirts, trying to keep herself steady.
“Lord Sunspire,” Francesca declared, curtseying.
The ladies rose from where they sat. Maria’s stomach lurched, for her father’s sharp gaze landed at once on her. His thin lips curled into a cruel smile.
“I knew that you would be here,” he said, “hiding away with other degenerate women.”
“How dare you?” cried Theodora.
Evelina raised her brandy with a smirk. “Indeed, my lord. But why are you among us?”
“You know very well why!” he snapped.
“What do you want?” Maria asked.
“I told you what would happen if you defied my wishes,” her father sneered. “You clearly did not believe me.”
A lump rose in Maria’s throat, and a cold wash of terror crept over her. She thought of Gilbert, sick with fever, and the other children in the orphanage. Her thoughts threatened to flee from her, to go some place dreadful and dark, but she forced herself to be calm. She had a plan.
She did not need to worry. As long as His Grace accepted her terms, everything would be well.
“So,” her father continued. “I am here to take you back home, as you clearly refuse to leave.”
“Maria will go only if she desires to,” Evelina said, tipping her chin defiantly up. “You have no right to take her by force.”
He laughed mockingly. “Don’t I? Maria is my daughter! She will obey me.”
“I shall not,” Maria said.
“You shall!” he argued. “What other options do you have? Do you intend on being a spinster and living here with them forever?”
“Maria is going to marry a duke!” Theodora declared.
For a moment, Maria’s father seemed genuinely taken aback. The man even stumbled a half-step back, as if the words had been a physical blow.
“A duke?” he asked. “As if any duke would have her!”
“It is true,” Maria said. “The Duke of Winterleigh wishes to marry me, and I intend to accept his gracious proposal.”
Unless he did not accept her terms. Maria dug her nails into her palms. If her father was still willing to carry through with his threat, she would have to marry His Grace, even if he refused to accept her terms.
“The Duke of Winterleigh?” her father scoffed.
“Yes,” Evelina said. “Maria is going to be the Duchess of Winterleigh.”
“And I will not leave,” Maria said. “I will remain here until our wedding.”
Her father shook his head. “No,” he said. “Even a duke cannot keep you safe from me! You will abide by my wishes, whether you want to or not!”
He took a threatening step forward, and Maria’s breath hitched. Evelina boldly stepped between them before he could come any closer. “She will not!”
“And you have overstayed your welcome, my lord,” Anna said. “I think it is time for you to depart.”
Her father’s jaw clenched, his face reddening. His eyes locked with Maria’s, and she held his gaze, strengthened and emboldened with the support of her sisters.
“I will stay here,” Maria said, making certain that every word was delivered deliberately and bravely. “I will return home only when—and if—I wish it.”
“We shall see about that!” he snapped.
The man’s eyes darted wildly about the room, as though he was searching for some escape or way of reaching Maria, but he could not without physically pushing aside Evelina.
With a final scowl, he stormed from the room. Maria strained her ears, listening for his retreating footsteps until they vanished entirely. She scarcely dared to breathe for a heartbeat after, struck with fear that he might return.
“Well,” Evelina said, sinking tiredly into her chair. “The man is gone, at last.”
“Yes,” Anna said, her face softening. “Oh, dear Maria! How are you?”
Anna grasped Maria’s forearms and gazed at her with such tenderness that Maria thought that she might melt beneath the warmth she saw in that gaze.
“I am fine,” Maria said, forcing a smile. “It is true, after all. I am to marry a duke, and he will purchase the orphanage. Then, Gilbert and the rest of the children will be safe.”
“Yes,” Theodora said.
Evelina furrowed her brow and exchanged a quick glance with Anna. Maria surmised that they had realized the flaw in her plan, which was that she did not know if His Grace—no, he had asked that she call him Damien—would agree.
“Damien.” She tested the name on her tongue, finding that it fell differently when she was speaking it before her friends, rather than mockingly to him.
“Yes?” Evelina asked, sounding confused.
“Damien—His Grace—will agree. He must. If he requires some persuasion, so be it!” Maria declared. “I will convince him to agree to my terms.”
For a long time, no one spoke. Evelina finished her brandy and filled it once again. Then, she offered the decanter to the other ladies. Maria considered it a moment before nodding, and Evelina offered poured her a glass.
“You must take care,” Evelina said. “You do not want His Grace to realize how dire your situation is. If he knows how desperate you truly are, he may realize that you have no choice but to marry him, and he may refuse to agree to your terms.”
“I know,” Maria said, curling her hands around the glass. “I will be very careful. Thus far, I have done nothing that indicates I am especially desperate.”
At least, she could think of nothing. The closest she had come to appearing desperate had been when she saw him in a state of undress, fencing with Doctor Hale.
Then, she had been less desperate and more desirous.
“Good,” Anna said, sighing in relief. “I agree with Evelina. If anything, you must try to make it seem as though you are performing a service for him.”
“Agreed,” Evelina said.
“Although…” Theodora trailed off. “A man who is willing to agree to terms for a marriage, especially terms dictated by a woman, may well be worth marrying.”
“It would certainly be an unusual situation,” Evelina conceded, lifting her glass in a mock toast. “We shall see.”
“Indeed,” Maria said.
She considered her interactions with Damien, trying to decide if he had seemed desperate in their interactions. Perhaps, he had, but he had not been desperate to wed. He had been desperate to…
To what? To touch, perhaps. Maria recalled his heated gazes and the strength of his arm wrapped around her waist.
“To you,” Anna said, raising her glass of brandy. “May you succeed in all your endeavors at dinner, Maria!”
“Yes,” Evelina said. “May the duke agree to all your terms!”
“And may your marriage be a long and happy one,” Theodora added.
Maria raised her glass, a warm and fond sensation overcoming her. “As dire as the situation might be,” she said, “no woman in Britain—no, in all the world—could ask for better sisters. To the Corset Chronicles!”
“To the Corset Chronicles!” the others echoed.
Maria tossed her head back and finished the brandy in a single swallow. The spirit burned down the back of her throat, and she grimaced, regretting her decision.
But she had always found the spirit to be fortifying, and she would need an iron resolve if she was going to survive what was to come.
“All will be well,” Maria said. “I am certain of it.”
“Indeed,” Evelina said. “And we will be with you always.”
“Until the end of time,” Anna added.
“Thank you,” Maria replied. “Thank you so very much.”
The words did not seem nearly enough to encompass all the gratitude that she felt at that moment, knowing thatdespite any obstacles, she and these lovely, brilliant women were united.