Effie looked up from her hand. “Goodness, Poppy, if they both have feelings for one another, what on earth is the problem?”
“The problem is neither of them have made their feelings known. Dulcie is a spirited young woman yet the thought of approaching Mr. Shepard seems to sap her courage.” Poppy shook her head. “And I suspect he thinks an entanglement would be difficult as he is soon to join a new expedition.”
“The one to the Amazon?” Gwen asked.
Poppy nodded and played a card, biting back a smile. Depending on the next card played, she might well win this hand. “I believe so.”
“I’m not sure I would encourage anything between them,” Effie muttered.
“Why not?”
“Oh, for goodness sakes.” Effie smacked down her card and glared at Poppy. “Would you really want any young woman to enter into the life we’ve had?”
Gwen stared. “I don’t see why not.”
Poppy quietly collected the trick and tried not to look smug. Three more tricks and Gwen would win? Not bloody likely.
“Because we have spent most of our married years with our husbands off risking their lives in the most dangerous places on earth in the name of military duty or scientific advancement. Why, we are worse than widows. We have husbands—they simply aren’t in evidence.” Effie huffed. “I, for one, am quite tired of it.”
It wasn’t the first time Effie had expressed dismay at the state of their existence. All three ladies were married to men of daring and adventure who were far more likely to be found in some remote area of the world than in London. Gwen’s husband, Sir Charles, was currently leading an expedition in the jungles of Africa. Poppy wasn’t entirely sure what the purpose of it was other than Sir Charles did hope to locate the missing Dr. Livingstone, although most people assumed he was dead as he had not been heard from for several years. Poppy’s dear Malcolm was somewhere in Turkey on a quest to find the lost city of Troy. Effie’s husband was a military man. Colonel William Higginbotham was even now part of a mission to rescue British citizens and government officials in Abyssinia. From what they’d read in the papers and the infrequent letters Effie received, it did seem that he was safe and all had gone well.
Poppy dealt the cards. It was pointless to argue with Effie when she was in this mood and one really couldn’t blame her if on occasion the state of their existence annoyed her. Of the three friends, Effie’s husband was usually the one in the most obvious danger—the lot of a military man of course. Still, one couldn’t discount the threat of malaria or other tropical diseases, accidental injury in some uncivilized and probably uncharted location, native uprising or any number of other possibilities that could claim the life of any explorer. Poppy would never disparage Effie’s fears for her husband aloud but Poppy did think of the three friends, Effie’s lot was a tiny bit better than Poppy or Gwen’s. At least if something happened to the Colonel, Effie would be informed of his demise. Sir Charles and Malcolm could bid their wives farewell one day and head off into the unknown never to be heard from again. Not knowing what fate had befallen the man you loved was surely a unique kind of hell on earth.
“We do have each other.” Gwen picked up her cards.
“Thank God.” Effie blew a frustrated breath then mustered a reluctant smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“There is much to be said for family.” Poppy nodded and played a card.
Effie and Gwen were indeed her family. While they were originally connected only by circumstance, they were now bound together as tightly as if by blood. They had met some twenty years ago at a meeting of the Ladies Committee of the Explorers Club and had found they had absolutely nothing in common save the lack of a husband within sight. Still—and not one of them today could say exactly how it had happened—from mere acquaintances they had become friends and now were as close as sisters. None of them had much in the way of family and none had been blessed with children. At this point, in their mid to late fifties, they had shared much of their lives together through good times and bad, tears and laughter. They counted on each other for companionship and comfort and support. And would until they day they breathed their last.
“Let me ask you this, Effie.” Gwen set her cards on the table and folded her hands on top of them. “When you met William, all those years ago, and someone older and wiser had warned against marrying him as you would probably spend much of your life with him off somewhere in the service of Her Majesty, would you have listened?”
Effie stared at her cards. “William has always looked exceptionally dashing in his uniform.”
“Excellent answer,” Poppy murmured.
Gwen ignored her. “Would you have given up the handsome officer on the advice of another wife of a military man?”
Effie frowned. “I don’t think that question is at all fair. I fell in love with William very nearly the first moment we met.” She paused. “I did, however, give due consideration to his life and the future we might have together.”
“And you married him anyway,” Gwen said pointedly.
“How could I do otherwise?” Effie shrugged. “The man laid claim to my heart.”
“And even now, after all these years spent more alone than with him, you would marry him again. As I would marry Charles, and Poppy would marry Malcolm.”
“Yes, I suppose I would.” Effie heaved a resigned sigh. “Blast it all, of course I would.”
“My point exactly,” Poppy said firmly. “Dulcie and Mr. Shepard were meant for each other. We just need to make them see what is so obvious to anyone who looks at them.”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean we?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Poppy chose her words with care. “But I thought the three of us together might come up with something. We can be quite clever when we join forces.”
Effie groaned.
“Your claim that they belong together is based on nothing more than an odd lack of conversation, the fact that they occasionally gaze at each other, something in the air and your own assessment of the situation,” Gwen said in that mildly patronizing way she employed when she thought Poppy’s ideas absurd. “I really don’t think—”
“See for yourself.” Poppy’s gaze shifted from one friend to the other. “Come to the library tomorrow. If you don’t see what I see, then I shall drop this matter altogether.”
“Will Mrs. Lithgow be there?” Effie asked.
Mrs. Lithgow was the head of the Ladies Committee, on her third husband, superior, sanctimonious and one of those people who thinks she knows everything. While she was not universally loved, she did manage to accomplish quite a lot that no one else wanted to do, so she was tolerated. In moderation.
Poppy grimaced. “I do hope not.”
“And if we see what you see?” Caution sounded in Effie’s voice.
“When you see what I see—” Poppy beamed “—you will help me come up with a brilliant way to make the two of them accept their, well, fate.”
Effie and Gwen traded glances.
“Oh, that does sound like fun,” Effie said drily. “Not to mention a great deal of effort.”
“Goodness, Effie, you know as well as I—” Poppy played her card and collected the trick “—love is always worth the effort.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“DO TELL US more about your plans, Mr. Drummond,” Mother said, gazing at Preston as if he was the answer to her prayers. Which no doubt he was. “I’m certain we would all find them most fascinating.”
In truth, no one at the table except Mother seemed to find anything Preston said even remotely fascinating, even if her three older daughters—Cora, Rose and Livy—had adopted rapt expressions of interest. Although it did seem there was a fine line between rapt and glazed. Good. Dulcie would need all the support she could gather on
ce she told Preston, and then Mother, she would prefer he not call on her again.
“Are you certain, Lady Middleworth?” Preston said in a mildly flirtatious, teasing manner. The sort of manner one might employ if trying to convince a woman you were the right man for her daughter. “I should hate to be a bore.”
Judging by the impassive expression Father usually adopted when he was bored and the total concentration on the food in front of them by her three brothers-in-law, that possibility was no longer in question.
“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Drummond.” Mother waved off his objection. “I can’t imagine anything more interesting than your plans for the future.” Mother shot a pointed look at Dulcie. “Don’t you agree, dear?”
Any number of answers flashed through Dulcie’s head, none of which even remotely approximated what her mother expected to hear. Nonetheless, Dulcie affixed her brightest smile. “I do indeed, Mother.”
Still, there must have been something in her tone. Mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, Father choked and Rose’s husband coughed, although it sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh, earning him a stern look from his wife.
“As you wish then.” Preston smiled at her in a satisfied and rather possessive manner, as if he were already her husband. Regardless of what Mother or her sisters thought, even if it meant Dulcie would never wed, she had to put an end to this.
Dinner did seem to drag on endlessly but at last came to a merciful close. The ladies stood to take their leave and allow the gentlemen to their brandy.
“Dulcie.” Preston cleared his throat. “Might I have a word with you? Privately?”
Mother beamed. Father looked resigned.
His intentions were obvious. Damnation. Dulcie thought she had forestalled a proposal tonight by deflecting any hint of the subject during their ride home. Preston must have spoken to Father while she was changing for dinner. Well, it couldn’t be helped and it was probably for the best simply to get it over with.
“Of course, Preston.” She cast him a brilliant smile. “Shall we adjourn to the parlor?”
“Excellent.” He smiled with complete and utter confidence. One might almost feel sorry for him.
A few minutes later, Dulcie perched on the edge of the sofa in the main parlor, hands folded demurely in her lap, a pleasant smile on her lips although she suspected this was going to be anything but pleasant. Preston stood by the mantel, the very picture of unquestioned self-assurance. One would think a man about to propose marriage would be at least a little nervous.
“Dulcie, I—” Preston began.
“Preston.” She held out her hand to stop him. It wasn’t at all fair to let him go on. “I really would prefer—”
“I think we should marry,” Preston said in a firm tone.
She stared at him. “Is that a proposal?”
He frowned. “Yes, of course it is.”
“It sounded more like a declaration.” As if there were no need to actually ask. As if he simply assumed the answer. Preston was making this so much easier for her than she had expected.
“Yes, I suppose it does.” He chuckled. “Well, Dulcie, what do you say?”
“I say if you wish me to marry you, the proper thing to do would be to actually ask rather than assume.”
“Very well then.” He sighed in the manner one does when dealing with a petulant child. “Dulcie, would you do me the very great honor—”
“No.”
“No?” His brows drew together. “What do you mean no? I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“I thought I would save you any embarrassment you might feel at being turned down by saying no before you actually asked the question.”
He stared at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you do, Preston.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s really quite simple. You wish to marry me but I do not wish to marry you.”
“Come now.” He scoffed. “Of course you do. I am eminently eligible. My family is well respected, my fortune is more than adequate and any number of women find me most attractive. I am considered quite a catch.”
“And indeed you are. Why, anyone can see that. However—” she shrugged “—you are not the catch for me.”
“Why on earth not?” His frown deepened with indignation. “We are quite suitably matched. Your mother likes me.”
Not a point in his favor.
“And your father has given me his permission.”
She would have to have a word with Father about that.
“I should think you’d be grateful.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Grateful?”
“Without question. While you’re quite pretty, you do have a shocking tendency to say whatever is on your mind without regard to how it might sound.” He shook his head. “I know your mother finds it distressing, as do I. However, I am certain, once you are wed to a husband who will not tolerate such nonsense, you can overcome that particular flaw in your character. In addition, you have an unbecoming bent toward independence. Proper ladies paint only for their own edification and not for commercial purposes. I cannot believe your father allows such a thing. I would not.”
Was Preston really this much of an idiot? Did he truly not realize he was not helping his case?
“Aside from everything else, there is the matter of your age.”
Apparently not. “My age?”
“You have past your twenty-third year and are no longer in the first blush of youth.” He shook his head in a chastising manner. “Potential matches at your age are few and far between. Coupled with your other flaws, I might very well be your last opportunity.”
She widened your eyes in feigned dismay. “Do you really think so?”
He shrugged.
“Goodness, Preston, with all my flaws, I don’t understand why you are willing to marry me.”
“I think you have a great deal of potential, Dulcie,” he said firmly. “Indeed I believe with a bit of effort on your part you will make an excellent wife.”
“How kind of you to think so.” It was all she could do to keep her expression serene given she wasn’t sure if she wished to slap his face or laugh in it.
“Besides, your family is socially prominent and your father is an influential voice at the Explorers Club. It would be most beneficial for my future to be related to him.”
“In terms of support for an expedition you mean?” Although she would wager all of Father’s fortune that Preston would never venture far from civilization.
Preston paused. “Or whatever else might arise.”
“I see.”
“Furthermore, I am under a great deal of pressure from my family to wed.” Preston’s brow furrowed. “My father believes it will be of benefit to my nature. Settle me down as it were.”
“Really?” She arched a brow. “I can’t imagine anyone more settled than you.”
“My sentiments exactly.” He shook his head in disbelief. “But Father does hold the financial purse strings and he wants me to marry. And I can think of no one I would rather marry than you.”
“In spite of my flaws?”
He cast her a condescending smile. “We shall take care of those soon enough. So, what’s it to be, Dulcie? Will you marry me?”
“No, Preston, I’m afraid not.”
“This is becoming bothersome.” He heaved an annoyed sigh. “Did you wish for something more romantic? I could kneel if you want.”
“Please, do us both the great favor of not kneeling.” She studied him. “Obviously, you are not in love with me.”
“I am quite fond of you,” he said staunchly. “But I am a practical man and marriage is a practical matter.”
“Not to me.”
“You need this marriage ev
ery bit as much as I do.” He paused in a meaningful manner. “I hesitate to mention this.”
“Oh no, Preston, please continue.”
“It is becoming common knowledge that you did not receive an invitation to Lady Scarsdale’s ball. You know as well as I that that omission signals to society that you are no longer considered as marriageable as you once were.”
“And less than a month ago I was quite marriageable,” she murmured.
He ignored her. “I am willing to overlook that significant social condemnation. Most men won’t. This marriage will be of benefit to us both.”
“And yet my answer is still no.”
“If you are trying to be coy—”
“I am trying to be honest.”
“I warn you, Dulcie, I have asked three times already. I will not ask again.”
“Excellent.” She smiled. “Then we are in agreement.”
“If I walk out that door—” he gestured at the door in a grand manner “—I shall not return.”
“Oh dear. That is something to consider.” She paused for a moment then nodded. “And I have duly considered it.” She stood, moved to the door, pulled it open and stepped aside. “I wish you all the best in your future endeavors, Preston.”
He stared at her as if she had lost her mind.
“Good evening, Preston,” she said with a polite smile.
“You’ll regret this, Dulcie.” He stalked through the doorway. “You’ll never find another man like me.”
“One can only hope, Preston,” she said under her breath. “One can only hope.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THERE WAS NOTHING quite as beneficial for clearing one’s head than a brisk early morning ride. Certainly Hyde Park was not as conducive to profound thought as Middleworth Park given that in the country Dulcie could ride by herself. Even though it was barely past dawn and there was hardly anyone about, she was not allowed to ride unaccompanied as Father thought anything could happen to a woman alone in London. Fortunately, her sisters liked to ride every bit as much as she did, but between husbands and children and various obligations, they rarely had the opportunity. Several years ago, they began taking turns accompanying her on her early morning rides. Between Rose, Cora, Livy and Father, Dulcie was able to ride most mornings. Mother did not ride unless it was absolutely necessary. She claimed horses were not overly fond of her. The feeling was mutual.
The Rise and Fall of Reginald Everheart Page 3