Marriage to a Mister (A Daughters of Regency #1) (4 page)

Julia sighed and walked further into the room, her blue muslin swaying, matching the light hue of her eyes, her dark chestnut hair shining. She settled on the arm of the wingback situated next to the window. "Shouldn't you give me up for lost?" she asked, leaning towards the window and moving the curtain slightly so she could look out onto the busy streets of Mayfair.
 

"No doubt I should, and stop staring out of the window. What if someone sees you?" Fleur asked as she leaned down and picked her matted wool up off of the floor.

"Oh, it's Mr. Trentham. Look at him, standing in the streets smiling like the world's biggest fool." Fleur watched in horror as Julia raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, acknowledging him from the window.

Speechless, Fleur opened and closed her mouth trying to form words that would not come. She stood, her forgotten knitting crashing to the floor once more and rushed over to her sister's side. "Come away from the window at once. What will he think of us?" She hissed, trying to not look out of the window herself.

Julia turned towards he sister. "What is there to think? He saw me, nodded, and I greeted him cordially."

Fleur laughed, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. "Julia, you cannot casually wave at young men from windows. Do you want people to think you're acting in a flirtatious manner?" She asked, running her hands down her dress, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her embarrassment.

Julia shook her head, removing her hand from the curtains, allowing the sheer fabric to fall closed. "Fleur, you can be such a goose sometimes. Nothing I did was even a little flirtatious."

Fleur, frowned, unable to understand how Julia could think waving at men from second story windows was not flirtatious. "Well, at the very least staring at people is impertinent. What is Mr. Trentham to think of us?"

"He wouldn't think anything — all he ever does is smile like he has not one thought in his pretty little head. Besides if it's rude of me to stare out of the window, wouldn't it be doubly rude of him to stare in?"

"You're unimaginable sometimes, Julia. You really are," said Fleur, refusing to argue further. "Did you come here for a reason? Or did you just want to pester me?" She walked back to her chair, woefully eyeing her knitting. When she bent once more to pick it up, she tried in dismay to make sense of the emerald tangle. "Oh, dear."

"Why do you insist on doing something that frustrates you so?"
 

"Because I find it relaxing ..." Fleur pulled a random string, only to make the knot tighter, "... usually."

Julia laughed. "Did you hear the commotion this morning? He's done it again."

"By the sound of it," said Fleur. "I've just left Lord Blackburn with him in the library. Perhaps he will soothe Papa's nerves."

Julia snorted. "Unlikely. How many does that make this season?"

Fleur counted in her head, surprised by the number. "Four? No, five."

 
"Six, between the pair of us. We'll be laughed at again." Julia sighed, resigned to the situation, so common it had become. "No matter, since we're leaving soon. Prudence and I are making one last trip to Hatchard's before we are to away. Are you sure you wouldn't rather join us?"
 

"You know I agreed to accompany Mr. Hamilton on the row this afternoon." Fleur's fingers caught in the knotted mass. "This is impossible."

Julia frowned. "I can't imagine a more tedious activity then riding about with Mr. Hamilton as he goes on and on about the virtues of his new phaeton. I'd rather untangle that wool you're holding."

Fleur grinned before she could stop herself. "Julia, that is very rude."

"Although very true," she countered. "Well, then, I must be off. Since I can't convince you to come with us, enjoy your afternoon of conversation, if you can squeeze in a word edgewise."

Julia slid off the side of the arm chair and floated from the room. Fleur wondered if her sister would ever mature, though she knew she would miss Julia's vitality and free spirit if she did, having helped raise her after the death of their mother.

When Julia was born it was true she had lost something that day, something precious, her beloved mother, but she had gained something infinitely more dear. First a sister she was able to love and spoil, then almost a daughter she could dote upon, and last a best friend and companion.
 

Fleur set down her wool and reached for her tea. Raising it to her lips she frowned into it as she tasted the dregs that signaled the end of her cup. Just as she was about to rise to ring for another pot, she heard a slight knock, and when she looked up she saw her father hovering in the doorway looking uncertain ... and quite ill.

She rushed to him. "Papa? You look positively green," she said as she ushered him into a chair for fear he would fall over. "Is your head still bothering you? Should I send for the doctor?"

"No, no, nothing is the matter with me, my dear, it's just your father is an old fool," he said as his eyes darted around. "Where is Julia? I haven't seen her all morning."

"She's in her room readying herself for an outing with Prudence. Why? Are you hiding from her?" She asked, a smile slowly forming on her face.

"Hiding? I'm doing nothing of the sort. I was merely inquiring."

"Of course, Papa," she agreed, much too readily.

 
Julian cleared his throat and took Fleur's hand in his own, leading her down into the chair next to him. He did not let go. "Fleur, I must speak with you about a matter quite serious. You see the earl and I ... that is to say ... we were hoping that you might feel inclined ..."
 

He trailed off, and Fleur worried, for she had never seen her father so uncertain. "Papa, whatever it is you have to say it can't be so unpleasant as all that," she said, her smile gentle. "Now, what is it?"

"Tell me, my dear, what are your feelings for Lord Blackburn's son?"
 

Fleur stiffened and held her breath — her heart came to an abrupt stop before it thumped in her chest again, reminding her of the need for air. She took a slow, steadying breath.

"Which son, Papa? Lord Blackburn has two, if you recall."

Julian grimaced. "Of course I meant the elder boy, Edward."

Fleur tried to calm her racing suspicions, though she had an inkling of where the conversation was headed. "How I feel about the viscount?"
 

Julian nodded and rubbed her hand. "Yes, my dear, go on."

"I don't know that I can rightly say. We don't move in the same circles, as you know."

"Just in general then," Julian waved his hand around. "We spent nearly every summer and Christmas at Blackburn Hall until you were sixteen. You must have some sense of your feelings."
 

"I ... of course I remember him from when we were children, but he would always sit away from the rest of us while we played together, watching over us. He was so much older — practically a man even then. We must have seemed awfully silly to him while we played our childish games."
 

Fleur remembered thinking how lonely she felt when she would see him, sitting off all by himself, usually with his nose stuck in a book, removed but always observing them from afar, making sure they didn't breed too much mischief. The only time he would join them was when he would read aloud to them, or when Evan would beg him to be the bowler in a game of cricket. He doted on his younger brother terribly and nearly always gave into him, the same as she did with Julia.

"I've seen him on several occasions but we never converse." Fleur couldn't help but think that he still looked like that quiet little boy when she saw him at parties. "He seems almost ... unaltered," she stated, uncertain. "I haven't spoken to him properly in years, Papa."

Julian nodded, agreeing with her appraisal. "Lord Ravenbrook is a bit bookish and he takes his responsibilities as Ravenbrook very seriously, but he is not grim, not like ... well, that is neither here nor there."

Fleur knew to whom he was comparing Edward. She remembered the younger brother – she always would. Evan had been there her entire life, until one day he was just ... gone, his comforting and constant presence in her life unexpectedly ripped away from her.

Fleur shook her head, determined to clear the painful thoughts away. That was the past, and Evan was no longer a part of her life.

Julian reached up slowly and gently tapped her on the forehead. "Fleur, you're frowning."

She looked into her father's dark eyes, brow furrowed as much as her own. "Perhaps you should tell me what this is about."

Julian cleared his throat. "Last night ... no, I should go further back. For so long Charles and I have dreamed of intimately connecting our families. We had hope that you and Edward would come to care for one another, come to an understanding."

Fleur nodded. She had always known — she'd have been a fool not to — she just had expectations of her own. Expectations that were somehow the same, but very different.

"It was our hope that perhaps this would happen naturally as time passed, but you never grew close in the way we had hoped."
 

Julian cleared his throat again. "Last night, Lord Blackburn and I discussed the matter of you and Ravenbrook and how wonderful a match you would make. We discussed the matter fully, even foolishly making plans. A few of the other fellows may have overheard us,"

"May have?" Fleur asked, skeptically.

"We were a bit loud in our enthusiasm."

"I see," she said. And she did.

Julian ran his hands thru his hair, ruining the neat part. "This morning, Lady Blackburn was out in town and people started congratulating her on the upcoming nuptials and pressing for details."

Fleur pulled her hands from her fathers and grasped them tightly together. "That must have come as quite the shock. What did she say?"

"Only that it was to be a surprise and the families would make an announcement soon."

Fleur leaned back into her chair. "Oh."

"Forgive me, Fleur. I don't know how things got so out of hand. You know as well as I how tongues will wag. I have no defense ... I ... the earl and I do feel it's best that you marry straightaway, but you must know this. I need for you to understand this above all else. You don't have to marry him. You don't have to marry anybody. I will tell the entire British Empire to jump off The Tower if it would please you."

Fleur tried to muster a small smile, shaky and watery as it was. "And seal Julia's fate as spinster along with my own? You know they always blame the woman in these matters. It would somehow be my fault and then poor Viscount Ravenbrook would be humiliated and I would be a jilt."

"Edward could use some excitement in his life. The boy is too predictable by half."

Fleur laughed and shook her head. "Is this how you intend to convince me to marry him? By saying he's dull?"

Julian grinned and shrugged his shoulders, unable to say more.

"I have been doing some thinking of my own, Papa, and please believe my sincerity when I say I am a bit weary of the whole thing. The dances, the parties, and being on the 'marriage mart'. I'm three and twenty and have no real marriage prospects, not one person who has come to you for my hand would I have accepted, and I thank you for turning them away, but I do want children and a life of my own. And yes, I have always known you wished I would come to care for Edward in that way. He is a good man."

Julian anxiously bit his lip. "What are you saying, Fleur? Are you saying yes? That you will have him?"

She looked downward to her hands. They were red from her own grip, but she released them and blood seemed to flow once more, small tingles running through her fingers. She could not stop herself from thinking of Evan, of that moment when all her hopes of a future with love came crashing down around her, when the man she'd come to care for more than anyone had told her he hoped she never stood in his line of sight again.

She looked up into her father's eyes, he patiently waiting for her response, and she hesitating. She always hesitated, and in that moment it irritated her. She knew it was time to let that part of her life go – she had to, if she was ever to move on. She thought it was time to take her life into her own hands, and take a chance.

"I will do it, Papa, I will marry him," she said. A small shiver ran down her spine at the finality of her agreement. "I assume this is to be rushed?"

Julian's shoulders relaxed slightly, and she knew he was relieved. "Yes, my dear, but do set your mind at ease. Once you accept him you will have time. Lady Blackburn has arranged for a house party at Blackburn Hall to begin in a few days' time. The banns will give you weeks to familiarize yourselves with one another."

Fleur breathed a sigh of relief of her own. "And when am I to expect him?"
 

"Well, actually, I was hoping... that is to say —"

"Please don't start that again, Papa."

"He is here, right at this very moment. He is waiting in my library with his father and expects to wait upon you down in the drawing room any minute."

Fleur stiffened and stared at her Father with wide eyes, "Oh ... oh my ... you ... he's here? Now? I'm not even dressed to receive —"
 

"Nonsense. He will think you are lovely, my dear," said Julian, saying the only thing he could in such a situation.

She pressed her hands down her skirts, her nervous habit revealing itself once more. "But what am I to say to him?"

"You say yes."

Exasperated, Fleur gave him a quelling look and he at least had the decency to look cowed before standing to leave.

He walked towards the door but stopped halfway, turning to look at her. "Fleur, I just need to say this once more, and then I'll leave it. You know you can refuse him and I will not be angry, don't you? This situation is entirely of my own making, and I only hope one day you can forgive me."

Fleur rushed forward and hugged him, laying her head on his chest, comfort rushing through her as he wrapped his strong arms about her shoulders. "There is nothing to forgive, Papa, honestly. I know you want only what is best for me." She looked up at him and tried to smile but her lip trembled a little. "I just need a moment to gather myself and then I'll be down."