“They can do whatever they want, I’m afraid; they are free to invite anyone they choose,” Lady Constance said. “But it is a shame. I will do my best to try and change a few minds. Perhaps some of those who do not have marriageable daughters might be persuaded. Also…and I think this is a delicate question, so please forgive me for asking…but I have heard a few rumors about the evening of the ball.”
“Rumors? About me?”
Lady Constance hesitated. “Yes, my dear. It’s come to my knowledge that supposedly dear Lord Deveraux asked you to marry him.”
“And? So?”
“Well, my child, it can’t possibly be true, but the wags say you turned him down.”
“That’s because I did.”
“Oh!” Lady Constance looked scandalized. “I was certain it was a joke. I told everyone not to believe such vicious lies. Can I ask why you rejected dear Marcus?”
“I did not accept him, as I hardly knew him from the footman,” she said, even though she had come to London for the express purpose of marrying a rich stranger. Lady Constance’s handkerchief quivered. “Ah. I see. Well, dear, then there is very little I can do for you. Lady Julia was quite insulted when the news got out, and now the rest of the town’s hostesses are worried that because you are so beautiful to merit a proposal on the first night of the season, they would rather keep you out than risk losing a chance for one of their girls.”
“Are you saying I should have accepted him?”
Lady Constance put down her cup of tea. She looked as if she meant business. “That is what you are here for, is it not? To make a match? I was told by your mother that you could not return to New York without an engagement. I am only trying to help.”
Ronan flushed. “But I don’t love him.”
“What is love?” Lady Constance asked serenely, adding a few more spoonfuls of sugar to her tea.
Later that morning, Ronan received a letter from her mother. She reread it again when she was alone. The situation at home was direr than they had earlier believed. The bank was threatening to foreclose on the house in a month, or take their debts public, which would put the governorship at risk. Was there any news Ronan could share that might alleviate their misfortune? her mother asked.
We hope you are enjoying London and making many good friends. Let us know if there is any news.
With love, Mother
She put the letter away. She was to meet Archie and Perry at the vernissage at the Royal Academy that evening. The boys weren’t any help with any of the London hostesses, but Archie was an artist, and was entitled to invite whoever he liked to his exhibit. She was too proud to tell them her troubles anyway, and worried that they would not understand. They were both fabulously wealthy, and in Ronan’s experience, those who did not think about money preferred to keep it that way. They would surely think Ronan’s impending poverty something of a lark, and wouldn’t take it seriously.
Lady Constance’s visit had upset her, but it was not Marcus’s proposal she was regretting right then. It was the other one: Wolf’s. Was she cursed? To have come so close to winning, only to lose in the final round. She had been so confident at the ball, flippant and glib with Wolf—but what if her confidence was misplaced? What if she had played her hand wrong? She would not return to New York without a proposal. She could not.
Ronan decided to take Lady Constance’s advice and try to make peace with Lady Julia, Marcus’s mother. She paid a call to their house on the square. Lady Julia was out—supposedly on her way back soon—so Ronan waited for the better part of an hour in the hope that she would return. Finally, the butler allowed that perhaps the madam was not returning any time soon. Ronan left her card with him and hurried over to the Royal Academy, annoyed that she was running late. She hoped she wouldn’t miss the boys. The Academy was thinning out as guests left the exhibit, and Ronan was one of the few entering. “Oh, excuse me,” she said, bumping into a gentleman staring at a portrait of the royal cat.
“Miss Astor,” the gent nodded.
“Lord Audley,” she said. She recognized him from the ball and remembered him as an eager dance partner, and one who of
ten stepped on her foot. Robert Tuchet, Baron Audley, was a portly gentleman of some years.
“So pleased to see you. May I show you around? Have you only just arrived?” He smiled broadly.
“Yes, and yes please,” she said. She allowed herself to be led around the exhibit, and properly oohed and ahhed at his every observation. She craned her neck to see if she could catch a glimpse of Archie and Perry anywhere, but they were nowhere to be found. Neither was there a familiar dark head in the crowd, for that matter.
As Ronan strolled through the exhibit, she mused on her current state of social decline—had she truly made such a big blunder in turning down two proposals? If she had accepted Wolf on the boat, she would be married already; and if she had accepted Marcus, she would be picking out china patterns with the Warwick crest. She would not be walking through this dull exhibition of atrocious paintings with the boring baron.
If only she had the courage of her convictions. It would be so easy to make the baron propose, she could tell—all she’d have to do would be crook a finger in his direction, and he would fall to his knees. No matter. Marcus had promised to court her, and somehow she sensed she had not seen the last of Wolf. She was looking forward to it. She hoped the next time they saw each other, they would make themselves understood, and perhaps find a way forward.
Her mother was already waiting for her in the open-air carriage. Marie took the footman’s hand and climbed aboard, sitting across from her so they could converse easily. The driver clicked his reins and they rolled toward the Row for their morning ride, a practice they took up every so often for the benefit of their subjects. It was why Eleanor never wore a large hat, or one that obscured her face, when she went on these morning drives. She knew there were people who had waited hours to see their monarch, and she did not want to disappoint them. Now that Marie knew that only she could see her mother as she really was, she was fascinated by her mother’s glamour. She could catch a glimpse of it if she looked at Eleanor sideways. The streets were lined ten deep with pedestrians who clapped and cheered as the royal procession made the rounds.
“You were not at the vernissage last night,” Eleanor said.
“I was not feeling well, Mother.” Marie waved at a child holding flowers in the air. She had planned to go, but decided to stay inside at the last minute. She had yet to see Leopold since Aelwyn had charmed him and danced with him at the ball, and Marie thought it best not to break the spell that had been cast. Aelwyn had looked every bit as in love with him that evening, and Marie was worried Leo might suspect something was different. She couldn’t quite bring herself to moon over him like Aelwyn had. The two friends had agreed last night that it was best that Aelwyn not use the glamour again until Marie was safely gone from the palace. It was much too dangerous.
“You looked very well at the ball,” Eleanor said. “The living dress was a thrilling idea.”
Marie nodded. “It was Aelwyn’s idea.”