Chapter Two
Inmarsh House, Berkeley Square, London
Ten in the morning
“No! This cannot be true! It is a disgusting idea. I do not want to marry. You both knew this. We have discussed it many times. I do not want a husband. At all. Ever!”
Elspeth stomped her foot, even though it was a useless gesture on the thick carpet of the drawing room.
The thump barely reached her own ears, but her irritation with her parents had boiled over once again.
It had done so a lot over the past year, as they had restricted her activities and curtailed her expenditures a bit more every month.
In the last week, they had turned down four invitations for her to social events or scientific lectures.
It was already April, yet no appointments had been made for the modiste or milliner.
What remained of her dowry—which seemed to have dwindled each year since her debut—had been even more reduced to what her father referred to as “a mere pittance.” And new reasons that escalated the conflict seemed to rear up almost every day, ever since her last sister had married and moved away the previous autumn.
But this—this—was the final straw.
“No. I cannot, no, I will not marry that man, and you cannot have thought I would agree to this. He is far too old. And he wants more children, for pity’s sake. At his age. It is appalling.”
Her mother peered at her over the top of her spectacles. “El, darling, your prospects are dwindling by the day, and we merely asked that you consider—”
“I did consider him, even though you knew I did not want to marry. I did. I looked him up. I talked to people who know us all. No one else thinks this would be a good match. Not a single, solitary soul.”
Her father stiffened in his chair, a low growl in his throat. “I do not care what your bluestocking friends might think. They are no better judges about this than you are.”
“The answer is still no.”
“You are thirty. It is the first offer for you in more than two years.”
“Because you do not let me attend events.”
Her father stood. “What good would come from you attending events—which costs us a great deal of money—when you will not listen to reason or even consider marriage?”
“At least I meet some men, even if they are not explorers.”
Her mother stood and moved next to her father. “British exploration has passed its prime, El. There are few areas left undiscovered. It is not a profession men seek these days.”
Her father’s voice tightened. “Your obsession with exploration is a fantasy that has warped your understanding of the way our world, our Society works. This is possibly your last opportunity. It is a position and a fortune, both of which this family needs. Which you will need once your mother and I are gone.”
“Peter—”
“You should not be your brother’s responsibility!
” The earl moved to the mantel, which he gripped hard with one hand as he faced Elspeth.
“Peter has been overly kind to you, and you should not want to be under his roof for the rest of your life. He will have enough issues to deal with regarding the estate. I will not saddle him with you as well. Viscount Godwin is an honorable man—”
“He is seven and sixty! More than twice my age! He is in his dotage! That cane he uses is not an affectation. He can barely move without it. He has children from his first marriage. And his second! And his third! He buries wives faster than most men lose at cards!”
“And if he wants children from you, you will provide them.”
“His wives all died in childbirth. Is that what you want for me? To die for some illusion of respectability?”
Her father glared at her mother. “You are to blame for this.”
“Liam.”
This time the scold in her mother’s voice did not work.
He turned to Elspeth again, pointing at her.
“You have been on the shelf so long, you have forgotten how this works.” He paused, staring at her a moment, then he lowered his arm and went on.
“This argument is all for naught. The contract has already been drawn up and evaluated by both our solicitors.”
Elspeth stared at him, a chill moving down her spine. “Meaning I do not have a say in this. No say at all?”
“You never did! Do you not hear me? This is what I meant when I say that you have forgotten. We have obviously been too lax with you in that we did not take this step years ago. Letting you flutter off, wasting time and money with your plants, your astronomy, all those useless lectures—”
“Liam—”
The earl shook his hand at his wife. “No, Anna. Not this time. We have coddled her and let her indulge her wants and her interests and her bluestocking friends far too long. Look at her! She thinks she is independent of the family. It is time to stop this . . . lenience that we can no longer afford.”
Elspeth’s chest tightened to the point of pain. “You said consider marriage to him, not that it was a completed transaction.”
Her mother lay aside her spectacles. “We had hoped you would see the wisdom of it before the contracts were signed.”
“The wis—” Elspeth stopped, her eyes stinging with tears.
She stared down at her hands, acutely aware they had begun to quiver.
Dirt had created black half-moons beneath her nails, and two of her fingers were stained blue from petals she had been crushing to make a medicinal tea.
Soil had left smears across her face and down the apron that protected her simple day gown from her work in the conservatory at the rear of the home.
Her throat tightened as she looked from her mother to her father. “Do I look like a viscountess to you?”
Her father shook his head. “This is exactly what I mean. You should be dressed and in here with us, needlework or a book in your lap. Playing the pianoforte. Painting watercolors. Expecting callers. Instead, you look like the gardener’s daughter rather than a proper lady.
A servant. The time has come. You must marry.
” He took a deep breath. “No. You will marry. Now. There is no choice.”
“And do you think he realizes this is what I look like when I am not all pampered and prepared? We have only met once.” She swallowed hard. “I do not want children. I have never wanted children. And if I am to marry, he must be an explo—”
“You will change your mind.” Her father’s severe tone sounded like a warning.
“But, Father, I do not think—”
“Enough! You will change your mind because it is what your husband will want!” He turned to face the mantel, now gripping it with both hands.
Even her mother gasped, staring at her husband’s back. “Liam—”
He did not turn, speaking to the flames in the grate.
“Anna. Enough. Both of you. It is done. It is settled. The viscount is out of town at his country estate. He will return next Friday, and we will meet to sign the contracts on Saturday. The first bann will be read Sunday.” He sniffed. “You should get your things in order.”
Her mother picked up her glasses again and perched them on her nose. “I-I will make an appointment at the modiste for the trousseau—”
“There is no need,” Elspeth snapped. “He is marrying an old bride. She will have old clothes.”
“El, darling—”
Elspeth could not keep the despair or the tears out of her voice. “Why does it matter? My life is over. Because he will crush me the same way Father has crushed you.”
A palpable silence fell in the room.
“El—”
Elspeth’s words almost choked her. “You . . . you could have been a queen in the world of botanists. I hear your name at the meetings, among my friends—the friends you apparently hate so much—” A sob broke through, and Elspeth pivoted on her toes and strode from the room, slamming the door behind her.
She rushed to the stairs, bounding up them, tripping twice as her vision blurred and her toes caught the hem of her apron.
Her knees banged against the tread, and she gasped but forced herself up.
She found her bedchamber door and fell hard against it, her tears becoming heaves as she pushed inside.
And stopped, her breath catching in her throat.
Before her stood a gleaming copper tub filled with steaming, fragrant, and foamy water.
On the bed lay a soft, yellow gown of light wool, along with clean cotton stockings and a fresh muslin chemise.
Although the gown had been made three seasons ago, it had always been one of her favorites, lightening Elspeth’s spirit whenever she wore it.
Light-brown kid boots stood near the bench at the end of the bed, and a straw bonnet with yellow ribbons, as well as yellow cotton gloves, waited on the bench seat.
On the other side of the tub, her maid, Sinclair, straightened items on the dressing table.
“What have you—How ever did you—” Elspeth swallowed hard, trying to regain some of her composure.
Sinclair turned to her, pushing a wayward black curl behind her ear. “A hot bath is always good for what ails you, my lady.” She paused, her voice lowering. “I knew you would need a bath after your work, then they said your father had summoned you. I suspected what it might be about.”
“You knew about Godwin?” Elspeth took a shaking breath and closed the door, collapsing against it. “Do they all know downstairs?”
Inhaling deeply, Sinclair squared her shoulders.
“We knew his lordship had been meeting often with the viscount, so there was speculation. It’s also why I took the liberty—” She pulled an envelope from the pocket of her apron.
“I remembered this being in your papers, amidst all the letters from Lady Eleanor, so I searched it out. I thought you might wish to send a missive before you bathe, as I understand there is little time to waste.”