“I … I understood enough to know that you are not happy. And I am sorry for it.”
An unexpected light shone in Susan’s eyes and she gave a half laugh. “Why, I believe you are the first person who has ever voiced such a sentiment. I am so beneath my mother’s regard that my happiness is of no account, even to her.” Stiffening, she added, “And you must know that your happiness is of no account to her, either.”
“Oh, I know that. But…I do think that Mr Dalgleish is a fine gentleman. Certainly, he seems kind and to consider my happiness.” Comparing smiling, charming Mr Dalgleish with cold and contemptuous Sir Richard could not be more different.
Susan stared at her dancing slippers. Her shoulders were slumped, and she seemed to be only half attending. “Has he asked you yet to marry him?”
“I expect it will happen during the Yuletide Ball.” Lizzy thought of the snatches of conversation they’d had that evening and went on, “He began to say something during the last dance. You know, I stood up with him three times, so it is tantamount to declaring myself. However, I said I wanted to feel I knew him a little better before I considered any proposal.”
“Very wise.” Susan nodded. With a sigh, she rose. “And now it is late, and you need your beauty sleep.”
Lizzy pressed her lips together, took a deep breath, then asked in a rush, “Susan, can I ask you something?”
The other young woman looked at the door as if she’d rather leave but gave a slight nod.
“Your talk on…children. I didn’t understand…” She trailed off.
“What, exactly, did you not understand?”
Lizzy frowned. “I…I don’t know what question to begin with. It is just that, as I heard what I couldn’t help hearing, it put all sorts of questions into my head. So many, that I don’t know where to start.”
Susan gave a short laugh. “Since my mother has clearly given you as much elucidation as she did me on the subject, I suppose the least I can do is answer your questions with as much frankness as will be helpful to you when you consider what will be required of you by your husband.”
“Children are a natural consequence of marriage; I know that,” Lizzy said slowly.
Susan nodded.
“But…they don’t magically appear. It is the woman’s responsibility to bear children, I do know that, now, though it wasn’t too long ago that I believed that they were collected from the cabbage patch.”
The moonlight that slanted through a chink in the curtains illuminated Susan’s face. Five years ago, she had been all bones and angles, but maturity had softened her. Perhaps not her character, but her looks, certainly. Her ghost of a smile was swept away by a look that was pained and occasioned
clearly by distaste.
“A man and a woman beget a child when the man lies with the woman and…certain intimacies take place, which creates the child who will emerge nine months later.”
Lizzy put her hand to her mouth. “Intimacies like kissing?”
“That can be the prelude.”
Now Lizzy truly gasped. “Oh Susan, I let Harry kiss me under the mistletoe earlier tonight. Now I will have to marry him.”
“Kissing on its own is perfectly acceptable and does not mean you will either beget a child or be required to accept a marriage proposal if you decide against it at the end of these few days. Now it is late, and we both must go to our beds.” Susan started to walk towards the door. Her face looked pale and drawn. “Richard does not like to be kept waiting and will consider he’s been patient long enough.” With her hand on the doorknob, she turned, then unexpectedly caressed Lizzy’s cheek. “Good night, Lizzy. Sleep well and do think hard on what I’ve said. I don’t know Mr Dalgleish, but I do know my mother, and if she’s so taken with this union between you both, then that is enough for me to caution you. You must act according to your own inclination—not hers.”
Chapter 12
Theodore tried to convince himself that it had not been too bad an evening as he considered whether or not to go to bed once Amelia had left the entertainment and he’d found himself bereft of company.
Of course, he was well used to a chilly reception. The events of the past year had cemented his determination to eschew reckless gambling and low society. However, in the absence of invitations from polite society, that seemed his only recourse.
Well, it had in the beginning before he had exhausted his financial resources and been forced to retire to the country.
And then Amelia had contacted him quite unexpectedly, and his life was suddenly on quite another trajectory. One that offered salvation.
If only he could see it that way.
“Mr McAlister, you’re looking very lonely.”
He glanced up from contemplating the fine cognac in his glass, his eyes lingering on Lady Quamby’s shapely bosom a moment too long before he jerked himself back into the gentleman he was, not the one society perceived him to be.