away on his extraordinary adventures.”
“Indeed I do but someday I shall wear down his resistance and he shall take me with him.”
“But you’re a woman.”
“How clever of you to notice, Henry.”
“My apologies, I didn’t mean—”
“No apology needed.” She waved off his comment. “Even in these modern times, the idea of a woman traveling anywhere not considered completely civilized is unthinkable. I do hope that will change one day but I am not overly optimistic. It is universally accepted that a woman’s place is to be safely left behind to tend to house and home.”
“And you disagree with that?” Caution edged his voice.
“Not entirely but even the most content among us can occasionally long for something a little more exciting. For now, I suppose we need to console ourselves with adventures of a less extraordinary nature.” She smiled. “Walking down the path of life hand in hand with the right person is something of an adventure in and of itself. When one’s heart is engaged—” she glanced down the table at Katherine “—it can be the most extraordinary adventure of all.”
“No doubt,” Henry said faintly.
It was bad enough to realize one wasn’t in love with the woman one was committed to marry, but to accept the awful growing conviction that one didn’t especially like her was much worse. But even that paled in the face of the horrible truth of the matter.
Henry Saunders had indeed found the love of his life and there was nothing he could do about it.
WHAT AN ABSURD SITUATION. What a ridiculous thing to have happened.
Celia Bromley paced the width of the room allotted her in Danby Manor. She wasn’t sure how it had happened—it certainly wasn’t intentional. Fate was no doubt to blame. Of course, if one believed in fate, then this was even worse as—
A knock sounded at her door.
“Come in,” she said with relief. A distraction from her own thoughts would be most welcome.
The door opened and Aunt Guinevere popped her head in. “Are you busy, Celia? Might I join you for a chat?”
“Of course, Aunt Guinevere.” She could think of nothing better to take her mind off Henry Saunders’s brown eyes and engaging smile. “Please come in.”
Aunt Guinevere stepped into the room, closed the door behind her and looked around. “My, this is lovely.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Celia smiled.
She’d never in her life had a bedchamber this nice. Of course, she’d never had one quite so large, either. No, the rooms at home at Bromwick Abbey were neither as gracious nor as beautifully appointed as those here. Danby Manor was most impressive and the abbey had seen better days. But then that was the price one paid when one’s home was more than five hundred years old, had started life as a humble monastery and had never had an owner interested in more than a modest expansion.
“No wonder Katherine and Miss Quince had insisted on arriving well in advance of the wedding,” Aunt Guinevere said, still surveying the room.
Katherine and Aunt Frances had thought it best to take up residence at Danby a full month before the wedding with the excuse that there was a great deal to be done. There was indeed but Celia was certain the lure of elegance and comfort to be found at the manor was ultimately responsible for the family’s lengthy stay.
It would have been much better for all concerned if they just sent the bride and her aunt. But of course that would never do. There were questions of propriety about two unmarried women residing in the same house with two unmarried gentlemen—no matter how grand the house. Regardless of his other failings, Father was a stickler for propriety when it came to the reputations of his daughters. Pity he hadn’t been a bit more concerned about his own reputation—especially when it came to matters of finance. But Father had never quite grasped the idea that once his inherited funds were expended, there would be no more without some sort of effort on his part. Nor did he seem to understand gambling was perhaps not the best method for acquiring an income—especially if one was not particularly skilled or lucky. Fortunately, her grandfather had recognized this flaw in his heir and had set aside funding—managed by inflexible solicitors—to provide for schooling and minimal dowries for his granddaughters as well a small, untouchable trust that provided an extremely modest yearly income. Not large enough to claim their place in society but sufficient to keep a roof over their heads.
“I am sorry I didn’t see more of you when you were in London.” Aunt Guinevere settled in one of two matching lady’s chairs positioned by the window that overlooked the back garden.
“As am I but it couldn’t be helped,” Celia said with a smile. “We were only in London for a few months and we did manage to see each other twice.” Even that had been difficult to arrange. Neither Father nor Aunt Frances had ever liked Aunt Guinevere but then Celia was fairly certain the feelings were mutual. But she and Aunt Guinevere wrote frequently and that was nearly as good as seeing one another in person.
“And did you enjoy your stay?”
“Oh, Aunt Guinevere, it was truly wonderful.” Celia leaned toward the older woman. “I went to the Tower and the Zoological Gardens, and the Society of Antiquaries museum, and Madame Tussaud’s, and Soane’s Museum and, well, everywhere. I spent a great deal of time at the National Gallery and the British Museum.”
The older woman bit back a smile. “I believe you mentioned some of that when we met in London.”
“Probably, but it’s worth repeating.” Celia grinned. “I think I could quite happily spend every day for the rest of my life going back and forth between the National Gallery and the British Museum.”
“There are worse ways to spend your life.” Aunt Guinevere smiled. “The British Museum is where I met your uncle Charles, you know. We were both attending a lecture on Etruscan artifacts.”
“I intend to live in London one day,” Celia said firmly.
That she had managed to visit London at all was something of a miracle and due entirely to Aunt Frances. Unbeknownst to anyone else in the family, Aunt Frances had received a small inheritance. She had wisely kept her windfall to herself as Father would have insisted she contribute to the family coffers given he provided a home for her. Regardless, at the beginning of the new year, Aunt Frances had decreed they would reside in London for several months in an effort to find a wealthy, well-connected husband for Katherine—who was not getting any younger—and hopefully Louise and Celia as well before all three girls became spinsters and remained their father’s responsibility for the rest of their lives. Father agreed without hesitation. The idea of three less people demanding he give up his foolish ways and do something of worth with his life was irresistible to him. And, as Frances had the money to pay for letting a London residence, it seemed an excellent plan.
Unfortunately, London society was not overly interested in sisters aged twenty-four, twenty-three and nineteen no matter how lovely or accomplished they were. Still, Aunt Frances was determined to see at least one—if not all three girls—wed
