“Not so unusual? Why, look at my cousin Thea and her husband, Mr Grayling, whom you met when you first arrived. They are equally devoted. We all went out on a limb to marry for love. There was opposition, but it was worth all the effort and striving, believe me.”
Eliza would not be drawn, despite the fact Lady Fenton seemed quite passionate about the subject. She wanted to be kind, for clearly Lady Fenton had her best interests at heart. She wouldn’t know it was too late for Eliza; that her mind was made up.
“Lady Fenton,” she said, full of patience, levelling her warmest smile at her though it was brief. “It is delightful to hear a proponent of the love match wax lyrical on its merits so many years after your marriage was contracted. But what suits one person doesn’t necessarily suit another.”
Lady Fenton seemed lost for words, which was very unusual for her. Finally, she said, “You don’t wish to marry for love?”
Eliza frowned as she puzzled it out. “I would not see my fruitful years disappear in the hopes of finding a love that is perhaps not just elusive, but never forthcoming.”
Lady Fenton looked despairing. “Miss Montrose, I admit that when I first met you, I did not take to you at all. I thought you were cold and distant and could have nothing in common with me.
”
Eliza smiled again. “I am cold and distant, and I believe that, indeed, we do have nothing in common. Yet that doesn’t mean we can’t be civil, even friendly, as inevitably we grow more sociable. I am, after all, marrying into your family. Is that your objection?”
“Not at all! Indeed, you entirely misunderstand me if that’s what you believe.”
The sound of shoe leather ringing over the flagstones in the hall made her glance up and, in a rush, Lady Fenton whispered, “You don’t know Mr Bramley properly, and if you did you would certainly not wish to marry him. He is a self-centred, even a cruel man—”
“You will not put me off, Lady Fenton.”
“Afternoon, ladies.” Lord Fenton bowed with a flourish while Mr Bramley and Mr Patmore brought up the rear, also bowing as they arrived upon the threshold. Fanny smiled at her husband, and Eliza rose to allow him to sit beside his wife and went to another chair beside which she had her workbasket. Inclining her head at all three gentlemen, she picked up her tatting and absorbed herself in her creation.
Lady Fenton’s pleasure at seeing her husband reminded Eliza of emotions she’d once felt. But that had been a long time ago.
She no longer felt an interest in the opposite sex—and, no, Mr Patmore didn’t count. She’d come on this weekend visit to Quamby House as the guest of Mr Bramley, whose marriage offer she’d accepted at an Assembly Ball several months earlier.
Of course, her reason for accepting Mr Bramley had been because marriage offered her the chance to have children. Now, her life had been turned upside down. The discovery that Jack was a regular visitor to Quamby House where she’d be living as Mr Bramley’s wife made it imperative that she follow through.
She just wished her heart would stop making these silly little leaps every time Mr Patmore looked at her. No, love wasn’t going to visit her a second time, and it certainly wouldn’t stay around if the truth of her wicked past were made known.
As her fingers nimbly worked the stitches, she covertly watched the scene at the end of the room where Jack was playing with Nanny Brown and the other two children.
It took a moment before she realised she was being addressed. And by her own betrothed.
“I beg your pardon; what did you say, Mr Bramley?”
His mouth turned down, and his expression was sour as he lowered himself into a seat beside her. “I said, my dear, that you are quite the heroine of Quamby House. I do hope you haven’t caught a chill.”
Eliza stared at him and was disconcerted by the revulsion she felt. No, she certainly would not be marrying for love, but marriage to Mr Bramley was the price she would pay for her past sins and to ensure Jack had someone to watch over him.
Dutifully, she smiled. “I’m quite well, thank you.”
“A wonder, is it not, that we shall be married before three weeks is up?”
“Indeed it is, Mr Bramley.”
“I’m willing to be generous in the matter of wedding attire, my dear.” He put his hand on her knee. “I know your aunt has provided only the smallest clothing allowance, but I would not wish to be judged a cheeseparing husband for allowing you to walk up the aisle in something that is not in the first stare. Indeed, I would be severely judged.”
Eliza looked down at her evening gown, which had been fashionable three seasons ago before her cousin, Susana, had offered it to her.
“That is very generous of you, Mr Bramley.”
“Anything to bring happiness to the heroine of the day.”
Happiness? Eliza had squandered her brief chance at happiness seven years ago and no, she didn’t expect, or seek, a second chance at it.
But if she could do something to advance her boy’s happiness, no sacrifice would be too great.