not liking the odds.
‘Slim for others, perhaps. But no one’s bank account can match yours and your daughter is beautiful,’ her mother responded smoothly. ‘Besides, Wenderly was no challenge for a man like yourself. Aren’t you always saying never take the first offer? Catching a husband isn’t much different than selling tea.’
Her father glanced at her mother who gave a small, imperceptible nod of encouragement. ‘All right,’ he said with an infrequent smile. ‘We shall go fishing, one last time. Draw up a list of the eligible men and we’ll see what can be done. We’ll need an invite to the Banfields’ ball in a couple weeks. It’s the most lavish entertainment this early in the Season. Pavia will need a gown that is equal to it. Get it ordered early so it will be done.’
Pavia smiled, careful not to betray her sense of victory. It wouldn’t be her fault if those gentlemen her mother spoke of didn’t come up to scratch. She had won. But she was acutely aware she’d only won time. Still, anything could happen in those precious weeks.
* * *
‘You betrayed me.’ Her mother glided into her room without so much as a knock and shut the door behind her, dismissing the maid with a flick of her hand. She could be imperious when she wanted to be. Once a princess, always a princess.
‘He’s the one who has betrayed us,’ Pavia argued. She’d been expecting this conversation and she was ready. ‘He wants to sell me to the highest bidder. Are you willing to let him do that? Wenderly is an old man with perverse tastes.’
‘A woman must marry, Pavia,’ her mother snapped. ‘Whether she likes it or not, she is nothing without a man. She has no money, no shelter, no status. Nothing with which she can protect herself. It’s not right, but it’s reality. What do you think happens to you without a husband if your father withdraws his protection?’ Her mother was furious.
‘This is not the Middle Ages,’ Pavia protested, hurt that her mother hadn’t sided with her immediately. Surely her mother saw the injustice of the situation?
Her mother sat at the edge of her bed, her voice quiet. ‘Your actions do not endear me to him. I had one job and that was to raise his child—a beautiful, obedient girl who would be a credit to him and help him advance his position in the world. I have failed.’ That silenced Pavia. She hadn’t thought of it like that. She’d thought only of what the arrangement with Wenderly meant to her.
‘I wish we were in India, with Uncle, like it used to be. I don’t know how you bear it.’ Pavia huffed. ‘Why don’t we go? Surely Father wouldn’t care if we went? We mean nothing to him, just chess pieces to move around his board.’ She searched her mother’s face for guidance. ‘How do you stand it? So far from home, so far from your family?’
‘Your father and I complete each other, Pavia. Dher aham prithvi tvam. If I am the sky, you are the earth. People change over time. Perhaps he is not the same man I married, but he is still the man I am married to. A wife stands by her husband. My brother made this marriage for me in good faith that I would be provided for and I have been. I want for nothing. I would not shame my brother by returning to his palace.’
‘But what about love?’
‘Love is only one thing to build a marriage on and sometimes love alone is not enough. There are other things that matter, too. Surely you don’t believe in fairy tales, Pavia?’ Her mother was unrelenting.
‘No, not fairy tales, but marriage should be reasonable, mutual, at least.’ How could she believe in fairy tales when her mother had left her home to follow a husband halfway around the world who had no time for her? Who was always gone, leaving her alone in a strange country?
‘It can start that way, but things do not always go as planned.’ She reached for Pavia’s hand. ‘You blame your father for too much. He didn’t understand how difficult it would be for us here.’ She smiled softly.
‘We had so much hope. When we came to England, he had already made his first fortune. You were twelve and we were naïve. We thought we could throw money at our obstacles and they would dissolve. He bought this house, then the estate in the country. He sent you to Mrs Finlay’s. He gave us all the trappings of nobility. When that was not greeted with acceptance, he worked harder, made another fortune and then another. But nothing changed. I was not invited anywhere. I have not become the great hostess he wanted. He wanted London at our feet and he didn’t get it. I failed him, but he has another chance through you.’ She paused. ‘I just want you to understand why he pushes so hard.’
‘You shouldn’t have to justify his failings to me.’ Pavia rose from the bed. She would never be as tolerant, as forgiving, as her mother, nor would she be as accepting. ‘I’m not like you. I don’t want a marriage of convenience to a man I have to make excuses for. I want to be free. I want to go places and see things. Women can do that now, Mother. The railway is opening up travel like never before. The world is changing.’
‘Not really, it isn’t. Have you not heard a word I’ve said?’ Her mother sighed. ‘I love you and I want you to be safe and cared for. What about the Marquis of Chatham? He seems like a tolerant man. Perhaps Wenderly was not the best choice, but you are safe from him only if you can bring another lord up to scratch. Don’t waste this chance, Pavia. And for heaven’s sake, don’t fall for the lie these modern women portray in their pamphlets. Don’t believe for a minute that you are free. A woman alone is never free. She is in constant danger. The sooner you understand that, the better. Now, let’s talk about a gown for the Banfields’ ball.’
The Banfields’ ball went down better with champagne. Cam grabbed another flute from a passing tray, adeptly trading his empty one for a full. It was a move he’d perfected over the last two weeks—weeks filled with entertainments like this one, each event grander than the previous as the official opening of the Season drew closer. That opening was so close now, the Banfields’ ball might be considered a soft open for the festivities that would soon be underway. Everyone who was considered anyone of importance for this Season was here tonight, doing one last dress rehearsal, the diamonds brighter, the dresses whiter, the smiles wider. Even the ballroom itself seemed to glitter with a sense of its own self-importance: chandeliers from the Venetian masters, the slim Ionic-styled columns framing the ballroom wrapped in elegant swathes of shimmering pale rose silk and white roses everywhere. Out on the dance floor, Caroline swirled by in a froth of ivory and pink skirts on the arm of a young, but financially disadvantaged viscount’s heir. She flashed Cam a smile. He raised his glass in salute and drained it, his eyes already roving the room, searching out a footman with a tray. Ah, there was one! He moved to swap flutes, a low, familiar chuckle erupting behind him.
‘Easy there, soldier, don’t you think you’ve had enough? You’ll be too foxed by midnight to take the lovely Miss Beaufort in for supper.’
‘That’s the point.’ Cam laughed, turning to shake hands with an old friend. ‘Sutton Keynes, what brings you to town? I thought you never left Newmarket these days.’
Tall and immaculately turned out, Sutton looked far more like a gentleman tonight than the dairyman he aspired to be. One would never guess he spent his days mucking around in camel stalls. Sutton shrugged evasively. ‘I had business in town. Uncle is at it again, another one of his crazy schemes to see me wed. Best to nip that in the bud before the Season heats up.’ It was said jovially, but Sutton’s eyes were tired and his mouth was tight. Cam wondered if there was something more
