Someone to Wed

Courage. Was that what had impelled her? Had that one little word spelled her doom? Next you will be telling me you wish to attend a grand ton ball, Alexander had said in the carriage by way of a jest. And she had spoken that other little word—yes. It had been spoken on a whim, in a burst of stubborn determination not to allow her mother to destroy the rest of her life, not to allow her any further influence at all upon it, in fact.

She would remain in London a while longer because duty was important to her husband. And she would become better acquainted with his family and her brother Colin while she was still here. She would not be driven away to Brambledean just because of a need to hide and heal. She would go there when it was time to go. She would be busy there, and she would reach out to get to know their neighbors better, her first acquaintance with some of them at Alexander’s tea not having been an auspicious start.

She was going to be as normal as it was possible for her to be.

But a ton ball?

At Archer House?

Colin, she realized suddenly, was holding her hand tightly on the table between them. Alexander, at the head of the table, was looking at her with that expression of his she loved best—apparently grave but with smiling eyes.

“You may choose the assembly for a limited few here, as Netherby describes it, if you wish, Wren,” he said. “And if anyone has anything to say about your courage, the remark may be addressed to me.”

Avery, Wren noticed, raised his quizzing glass all the way to his eye and examined Alexander through it while Anna laughed and set a hand on his arm.

“A hit, Avery, you must confess,” Elizabeth said, a laugh in her voice.

“If you had the courage to call upon our mother, Roe,” Colin said quietly, for her ears only, “you can do anything.”

“I want to waltz,” she said to the whole table. “And to waltz properly, I have heard, one needs space. I daresay the ballroom at Archer House offers a great deal of that. Thank you, Avery and Anna—and Cousin Louise. Mama and Lizzie and I will help with the planning. Is it proper for a lady to ask a gentleman to dance with her? I know the answer, of course. My governess would have had heart palpitations at the very idea. I am doing it anyway. I want to waltz with Alexander.”

“You are a woman of discernment, Wren,” Cousin Mildred said, clapping her hands. “Alex is the best dancer among us—oh, with the possible exception of Thomas and Avery. And Mr. Radley and Mr. Sidney Radley, I daresay, and Mr. Cole. And perhaps Lord Hodges.”

“You may take your foot out of your mouth now, Mil,” Cousin Thomas said to general laughter.

The smile in Alexander’s eyes had deepened and spread to the rest of his face as he held Wren’s gaze. “I will teach you,” he said. “And yes, Wren, we will waltz together at your coming-out ball. I will insist upon it. A husband really must assert his authority occasionally.”

* * *

Wren would have been in her element during the following two weeks planning the ball. However, her mother-in-law and Cousin Louise assumed happy ownership of that task while Mr. Goddard, Avery’s secretary, quietly and efficiently did all that needed to be done. If he ever wished to leave the duke’s employ, Wren thought privately, though it was extremely unlikely, she had a job to offer him in Staffordshire.

Meanwhile she was not idle. There was a modiste to be visited with Elizabeth, for despite being in possession of several evening gowns she had thought suitable for any occasion, apparently she was wrong. And if she was to have a new gown to wear, then she must have everything else new to go with it—undergarments, stays, slippers, silk stockings, gloves, a fan, and a jeweled headband with feathered plumes, though she was not at all sure she would actually wear that last purchase.

There were two families with whom to become more fully acquainted. She called upon them all, usually in company with Elizabeth. She went strolling in Hyde Park with various combinations of relatives. She wrote to Viola. She even wrote a letter to introduce herself to Camille and Joel. She hoped, she said in it, to go to Bath soon with Alexander to meet them and their daughters and the baby due in the near future.

Colin came to the house almost daily. Sometimes they sat in the library, just the two of them, talking about all the missing years, getting to know each other, coming to feel like brother and sister. Sometimes he sat with her in the drawing room or dining room with Alexander and her mother-in-law and Elizabeth. Once, he took her in his curricle for a drive in Hyde Park, though he avoided the areas where they were most likely to meet crowds of people. Always he took his leave of her by kissing her left cheek better while they both laughed.

During one of their private talks in the library she broached a topic she had discussed with Alexander the night before. “Colin,” she said, “you told me you live here in London all year. I suppose that means you do not feel comfortable going home to Roxingly even though it is yours. Would you consider living at Withington House in Wiltshire? It is just eight miles or so from Brambledean. I have thought of selling it, but I do love it. It holds fond memories for me. I would far prefer to see a family member there.”

He looked consideringly at her. “I have thought of purchasing a place of my own in the country,” he admitted. “Maybe I will buy it from you, Roe. I like the idea of having a place close to you.”

“No.” She held up one finger. “You do not need to buy it. I will give it to you. Alexander will approve.”

But he was adamant, of course. If he was going to move to Withington, he was not going to do it on her charity.

“Then let us compromise,” she said. “Come there this summer if you will and stay as long as you like. Pay the servants’ wages and the other expenses. After a year, decide if it is somewhere you wish to make your home and then purchase it if it is. But only if it is, Colin. No obligations.”

He grinned at her and held out his hand to shake on the deal.

“Oh, I do love you, Colin,” she said.

“Roe,” he said, her hand still clasped in his, “will you write to Ruby? I think it will please her to discover that you are alive and that you are willing to hold out an olive branch. I recall her telling me just before she married Sean Murphy and went off to Ireland that the biggest regret of her life was never having stood up for you while you were still alive.”

Wren looked down at their clasped hands and heaved an audible sigh. She hesitated for a long time. “Very well,” she said at last. “Because you ask it of me, Colin. The worst she can do is ignore the letter. Or answer it.”

“Were they very nasty to you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I will write to Ruby,” she said.

“Thank you.” He raised her hand to his lips.

During those weeks she dealt with all the reports that came from the glassworks. Her suggestion of one minor color change to the new design had been well received, and soon she would have samples of the finished product before it was put on the market.

And she learned to dance. It was quickly apparent that the skills she thought she had were woefully inadequate, but she set to with a will. Uncle Richard on the pianoforte showed a great deal of patience. So did all the other dancers who had volunteered their time to come to Westcott House almost every afternoon to help her. And learn she did, to the accompaniment of a great deal of laughter and some serious work. The relatives who were not actually dancing often turned up to watch and give their advice and encouragement. Alexander’s mother was always there, smiling and laughing and nodding her head in time to the music. Cousin Matilda announced that she was coming around to the waltz on the afternoon when Wren finally got it as she performed the steps with Alexander. Elizabeth was dancing with Sidney, Anna with Avery, Susan with Alvin, and Colin with Jessica.