Imogen interrupted her thoughts. ‘He behaved badly at dinner because he is distraught,’ she said fiercely. ‘He doesn’t wish to marry Miss Pythian-Adams, no matter how cultivated she is. I think he is beginning to love me.’
‘One would have to suppose that he’s hiding his emotion, if that’s the case,’ Josie said, in her usual blunt fashion. ‘What on earth did Maitland do at supper?’
‘He was overcome with emotion and left the table,’ Imogen said. Her eyes were teary now. ‘Obviously his mother has chosen his bride. It’s just like Romeo and Juliet when Lady Capulet was determined Juliet should marry Paris. And Pyramus and Thisbe too. Wasn’t Pyramus’s father determined to marry him to someone he abhorred?’
‘That must have been before Thisbe was eaten by a lion,’ Annabel said. ‘I’m so glad that I’m not the type to be overtaken by passion. I have the greatest wish not to be munched by a wild animal. The whole business of love seems not at all in my style.’
‘I wish I were like you,’ Imogen said. She stared up at the canopy, her eyes a little teary.
‘It’s much more comfortable this way,’ Annabel said, patting Imogen’s foot as if to encourage her in the pursuit of logic. ‘I have no expectation of love and every expectation of making a worthy marriage. I assure you that life is truly relaxing when there is no expectation of heartbreak.’
‘I suppose I shall just have to – to resign myself to a loveless life.’ Imogen said in a rather choked voice.
They were all silent for a moment. Imogen had been so long possessed by the idea of marrying Draven Maitland that it was hard to imagine her no longer in love. No longer scribbling Imogen Maitland on every piece of discarded foolscap she could find. No longer studying etiquette books so that she would know the proper precedence of all the Maitland relatives.
‘I’m sorry that we nurtured the hope,’ Tess said, stroking Imogen’s hair. ‘We shouldn’t have let you dream for so long.’
‘I do feel as if I’ve been living in a dream,’ Imogen said, her voice a little choked. ‘Why did he kiss me, that time? Why did he — does he — look at me, in such a fashion? He must know that he cannot excuse himself from his engagement.’
Tess cleared her throat, trying to find a way to answer, but Imogen leaped in before she could formulate a thought.
‘And don’t tell me that he merely wanted to dally with me in an improper fashion, because he didn’t! He didn’t! He never once tried unseemly behaviour. And yet — and yet, all last winter, and the winter before, when he was in England, he must have known full well that his mother would never allow him to marry a penniless Scot. He could not help but be aware of her – her enthrallment with his future bride!’
‘ ‘Twas wrong of him,’ Annabel ventured.
‘Perhaps he couldn’t help flirting with you,’ Josie put in. ‘Romeo was beside himself with passion, even though his family would never have agreed to the match.’
But Imogen pushed herself higher up against the pillows. ‘If Draven loved me as much as Romeo loved Juliet, he would declare himself,’ she said flatly. ‘He may be miserable affianced to Miss Pythian-Adams, but he isn’t truly fighting his mother on the issue. He – he let Lady Clarice rattle on and on about Miss Pythian-Adams through the meal. Any fool could tell that she was warning me off. In truth, I think he may have reacted with anger not to his mother’s assault on me but because he was irritated with her for other reasons.’
‘True enough,’ Tess said, putting her arm around Imogen.
‘At first I was happy when he was so rude to his mother,’ Imogen continued. ‘But then I realised that he was just baiting her. He didn’t really mean to defend me, did he?’
‘There will be someone else, someday,’ Tess said after a moment, rocking her against her shoulder.
‘No, there won’t,’ Imogen said, wiping tears away with the linen sheet. ‘There won’t be, not for me. If I don’t marry Draven, I’ll marry no one.’
Imogen hadn’t braided her hair for bed yet, and it tumbled past her shoulders, sleek blue-black as a raven’s feather, her eyes a stormy blue slanting under perfect eye-brows. She was too beautiful and too dear to spend her life grieving over an irresponsible, uncaring boy.
‘Then you’ll come and live with me and my fabulously wealthy spouse,’ Annabel said, smiling at her. ‘We’ll spend all our days dressing in silks and dancing all night. Who needs a husband?’
‘I’ll marry no one,’ Imogen repeated, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s just the sort of person I am.’
‘Then that’s settled,’ Annabel said briskly. ‘I know you all think that I am jesting about the earl, but I am not. Frankly, I’m concerned that Holbrook may be ill prepared to bring us into society. I doubt he has ever been to Almack’s in his life. I would be surprised if our guardian knew the names of a tenth of the society matrons in London. How are we to depend on him to launch us properly on the season?’
There was a moment of silence. For all Tess’s new-found fondness for Rafe, she felt the truth of Annabel’s assessment.
‘My maid reports that Mayne is quite unattached,’ Annabel continued. ‘He is clearly a man of taste and breeding. He does not drink to excess. He can bring us into fashion, allowing the rest of you to find appropriate husbands.’
‘What of plain Mr Felton?’ Tess asked.
‘Not good enough for any of us,’ Annabel said. ‘Just listen to all those things that Lady Clarice said about the importance of titles. I do believe she indicated that not one of us should look below the level of a baron.’
Josie said the very thing that Tess was thinking. ‘Now who’s the naive one?’ she asked jeeringly. ‘A title will not keep the house warm, or so you said yourself. I’m guessing that plain Mr Felton is worth more than the duke and the earl put together. Do you know who he has in his stable?’ Her voice hushed. ‘He bought Pantaloon last year. And he has Royal Oak.’
‘Pish-posh,’ Annabel said. ‘That’s enough to convince me to pass him by, were he the Golden Ball himself. I’ve no wish to marry a horse-mad man and watch him liquidate his estate to buy a poor, swaybacked mare that couldn’t win the Derby if she tried.’
Josie’s voice was needle-sharp. ‘I hope that is not an interpretation of Papa’s buying practices, Annabel.’
But Annabel was off to bed. ‘It’s merely a statement of fact,’ she said, pausing at the door. ‘I want a man who will think about buying me rubies, not about paying a thousand pounds for a horse. And I do believe that the Earl of Mayne is just the man for the purpose.’
‘Did you like him, then?’ Tess asked curiously, hugging her knees. Sometimes her younger sister seemed so much older and more worldly than she herself was. The earl rather frightened her, to be honest. It was something about how polished he was: polished and large and exquisitely dressed.
But Annabel grinned wickedly, and there wasn’t a shadow in her eyes. ‘I looked him over quite closely,’ she said demurely. ‘Before and behind. He will do.’
‘Annabel!’
