The Obedient Bride Part 1

THE OBEDIENT BRIDE.

Mary Balogh.

1.

Viscount Astor yawned widely enough to hear his jaws crack and lifted one booted leg to join the other on the plush velvet upholstery of the carriage seat opposite him. He wriggled his shoulders against the cus.h.i.+ons at his back in a futile attempt to ease aching muscles and find a comfortable position. It really was almost pointless, he reflected, spending a king's ransom on a handsome, luxuriously padded, and well-sprung traveling carriage when the only place on which to demonstrate its superiority was English roads. Under such conditions springs were about as much use as wings would be.

He was regretting for perhaps the dozenth time in the past three days his decision to travel in the coach with his valet and his baggage instead of bringing his curricle. At least with the curricle he would have had fresh air and the mental and physical activity of propelling himself along the road. Perhaps too he would be capable of seeing and avoiding more potholes than his coachman seemed able to do.

But then, he thought, yawning hugely again and crossing his boots at the ankles, he could not have foreseen that the late-February weather would be quite so gloriously springlike. The sun was s.h.i.+ning down from a flawless sky; the trees were beginning to bud; he could glimpse snowdrops and primroses in the hedgerows; and he could imagine the freshness of the air and the singing of the birds, though the dust of the road and the noise of the horses and carriage wheels blotted them from his senses.

Oh, for the chance to ride astride a horse or to be seated in his curricle, ribbons in hand! The sight of his valet's head flopping from side to side on his chest and the faint whistling sound of his snoring were beginning to grate on Lord Astor's nerves. He had tried clearing his throat loudly a few minutes before, but that had succeeded only in causing Henry to jump, rumble in his throat, smack his lips, and resume the head lolling and the gentle snoring.

Lord Astor examined his Hessian boots glumly, twisting his feet from side to side in order to do so. There should be some consolation in the fact that he would be reaching his destination within the next couple of hours. But under the circ.u.mstances, he thought that, given the choice, he might prefer two more days on the road, even if they were to involve two more nights at unspeakable inns like the one of the night before.

Four females. He was to face four female strangers. And they were strangers even though they were connected by some distant relations.h.i.+p. Only that fact accounted for his present newly acquired t.i.tle and wealth. He was the closest male relative of the lately deceased Viscount Astor. It was rather a shame, the new Astor thought uncharitably, that he was not also the only relative of the dead viscount. The man was survived by a wife and three daughters. And he was on his way to pay his respects to them and to view his new home and estate.

It was a deuced embarra.s.sment, actually. He had known he was the heir, of course. How could he not, when he had lived a life of relative poverty, especially in the six years since he had come down from university and settled to an expensive life in London? But he had never been in communication with his cousina"a term he used for want of a better one. The connection was actually quite distant. His father had quarreled with the late viscount about fifteen years before and had never seen him after. And he himself had had no occasion to renew the acquaintance after the death of his father almost four years before.

So he found himself in this predicament, Lord Astor thought, putting his feet back on the floor of the carriage and looking impatiently through the window for he knew not what sign of nearness to his destination. He was on his way to visit four females whose home was now his, whose whole security had been cut from under their feet by the untimely demise of his predecessor. The solicitor who had brought him the news of his good fortune had told him that the late viscount had made no provision whatsoever for the future of his family, an almost unbelievable oversight in view of the fact that its members were entirely female.

And what had he done: the new Viscount Astor, basking in the glory of his new importance, bursting with euphoric feelings of goodwill to the world? He had offered to marry one of the daughters, that was what he had done. Sight unseen! He had learned that their ages were twenty, eighteen, and fifteen. And that was all he had learned. He did not know their names, their dispositions, their appearances. He had not even specified which one he wished to be his bride. He had left that decision to their mother.

He was on his way, then, mainly to meet his future bride. And his offer for her had been quite formally and officially made. He could not back out now even if he found all three girls to be as ugly and uncouth as his nightmares were beginning to depict them.

It had been a rash offer. It was true that his acquisition of the t.i.tle had made him feel the necessity of also acquiring some respectability. What was more respectable than the presence of a wife in one's home and perhaps a child or two in one's nursery? And really he was not too fussy about what female would be found to fit the role. He spent little enough of his time at home. A wife would not upset his habits to any great degree. Provided she was a lady of the proper breeding and provided she conducted herself with the proper decorum, she would suit his purposes admirably.

But even though he felt he would be relatively easy to please, it had perhaps been rash of him to offer for any one of three females he had never seen and about whom he had not even heard any report. He could become the laughingstock if the sister selected were unusually ugly or if her manners were noticeably awkward or worse.

Lord Astor shrugged and cleared his throat loudly once more. The whistling of Henry's snores had progressed from gentle to piercing and were setting his lords.h.i.+p's fingers to clenching and unclenching. There was really no point now in teasing his mind with all the horrors his rash offer might have in store for him. There was nothing whatsoever he could do about the matter. Except perhaps to leave his bride in her childhood home with her mother and sisters when he returned to London for the Season.

He would have to wait and see what she was like. It might be amusing to introduce her to society if she were at least pa.s.sable. And it might be personally gratifying to have a female constantly on hand for his own pleasure. Not that he would expect much of a country-bred wench, of course. His tastes ran far more to mature and experienced courtesans. Like Ginny, for examplea"who liked to be called Virginia and who became furious enough to throw things when he laughed at her preference and pointed out all the inappropriate-ness of the name. Ginny was his resident mistress and had made something of an art of her trade.

No, really, he must not expect too much in the way of s.e.xual satisfaction from his new wife, even if she turned out to be pretty. It would be unfair to do so. And as for companions.h.i.+pa"Lord Astor shrugged againa"he had never looked to any female for that. He had friends enough in his various clubs, and activities enough to make of his home little more than a place in which to sleep at nighta"or for what remained of the nights after he had left Ginny or a late card game or drinking session.

He must not allow himself to become too apprehensive of the ordeal that faced him within the next few hours. A wife was really going to be a fairly unimportant adjunct to his life.

Lord Astor yawned once more, glared balefully at the unconscious figure of his snoring valet, wriggled downward in his seat, and allowed his eyelids to droop and his thoughts to slide into oblivion.

The Honorable Miss Frances Wilson was in tears. Again, her sister Arabella thought, watching from her place in the window seat and marveling as she always did that Frances succeeded only in looking more beautiful when she cried. Perhaps that was why she did not make more of an effort to overcome her sensibilities. Now, when Arabella cried, which was a rare-enough occurrence, her tears left a red and swollen face in their wake. And her younger sister Jemima was no better. She always wailed loudly when she wept, so that an unsympathetic Papa had once told her that she sounded like a cow in pain.

But Frances, the oldest sister, the beauty of the family, could weep and be beautiful. Not that she needed to weep in order to accomplish that result, of course. She was slim and shapely, with big expressive blue eyes, a creamy complexion, and ma.s.ses of silky blond hair. And dark eyelashes that could fan her cheeks when they were lowered, as they frequently were when some gentleman was by.

Frances. The beauty. Her parents' favorite. And her sisters' favorite too. One could not not love Frances. She was all gentle and weeping sensibility. She was not even weeping for herself at the moment. She was crying for Arabella. And not for the first time. Surely every day for the past two weeks she had wept for the great sacrifice, as Arabella's decision had come to be known.

Arabella was touched to be so appreciated, and perhaps a little proud of herself too. But in all honesty she could not see herself as a great heroine. She had no particular objection to marrying Lord Astora"strange to think of another man than Papa with that t.i.tle. It was true that the new viscount must be close to Papa in age, as far as Mama could remember from her last encounter with him many years before. But that did not matter. Arabella had always been fond of Papa. And she had never been fond of any of the horrid boys who had pulled her braids as a girl and refused to let her climb trees with them and who now expected her to dance with them at a.s.semblies and simper at their awkward compliments. If she must marry, she would as soon marry an older man.

"Frances, my love, do not take on so," Lady Astor said, hovering at the shoulder of her eldest daughter, vinaigrette in hand. "Remember that there are compensations for Bella's sacrifice. Lord Astora"oh, your poor dear papa, my lovea"may be an older man, but he will be steady, you may depend upon it. And Bella will be the new Lady Astor and mistress of Parkland. She will be set for life. And a viscountess at eighteen, my love." The mother had turned her attention to Arabella. "Really, there is scarce any sacrifice at all."

Arabella drew breath to agree quite sensibly with her mother. But Frances sobbed so affectingly that she closed her mouth again.

"But to be married to an old man when she has seen nothing whatsoever of life. To sacrifice her youth and all her hopes for our sake, Mama. Dear, dear Bella! How very much I love you. And how guilty you make me feel that you have taken off my shoulders the burden of making the sacrifice myself."

"It really would have been foolish for you to do so, Frances," Arabella said, swinging her legs against the wall behind them, as her feet did not quite reach the floor. "You have other prospects. And Theodore would be brokenhearted if you were borne away by our cousin. And besides, as I have told you and Mama a thousand times, I really do not mind. His lords.h.i.+p must be a reasonably kind man, for he has offered for one of us when he has not even met us, just so that we will not be dest.i.tute."

"He will surely allow us to continue living here after you are married, Bella," her mother said. "And you shall persuade him, my love, to take Frances with you to London so that she may be presented to society. It is only right for one of such rare beauty to be seen in the capital."

Truth to tell, this often-mentioned idea was the one part of the plan that Arabella disapproved of. She had released Frances from the necessity of marrying the viscount mainly so that her sister could marry Theodore. Sir Theodore Perrot, she had to accustom herself to calling him now. They had called him Theodorea"sometimes even Theoa"all their lives, but it seemed that there was proprieties to be observed now that they were all grown up.

Frances and Theodorea"Sir Theodorea"had always planned to marry, and Arabella was only too glad to make it possible for them to do so. Theodore, stocky, blond, and ruddy-cheeked, was so thoroughly solid and dependable that Frances would be safe with him. And she would need keeping safe. Frances would never cope with life if she did not have someone to carry her through it. Arabella did not like the thought of Frances being borne off to London with her and the viscount in order to be viewed by other, less-steady gentlemen. One of them might just run off with her, and then where would her poor sister be for the rest of her life?

Arabella was wearing her best day dress. She looked down at the light sprigged muslin with its wide blue sash and thought again that it was quite inappropriate for February. It might be springlike outside, but it was hardly the time of year for muslin. She was thankful that the sun shone so strongly through the window that she felt almost too hot despite the thinness of the fabric. At least it was pleasant not to be wearing black. Mama had announced that they would leave off their mourning for the new Lord Astor even though poor Papa had been gone for only eight months.

Arabella wished as she had for the past two years that she had not stopped growing when she was still such an unimpressive height. She was perhaps a little too plump too, though she supposed it was rather unfair to herself to make comparisons between her own shape and Frances'. Mama was always careful to a.s.sure her that she was not plump, but merely well-rounded and short of stature. And she could not yet compare herself to Jemima, who was still as thin and shapeless as a rake and who frequently and loudly bewailed the fact that she would never be any different. But Jemima was already taller than she. And her hair was too thick, Arabella thought. It was quite a becoming shade of dark brown, as Mama kept pointing out soothingly, but it was very difficult to make it hold any style.

Arabella had no great craving to be a beauty. One in a family was blessing enough, she had concluded with great good sense more than a year before. And since she had not started to consider suitors and marriage until the viscount's startling letter had arrived more than two weeks before, she had had no particular desire to be attractive to gentlemen. She had no great wish to be so even now. After all, the viscount was an older man who would not care for such things as a girl's looks. He was marrying her out of kindness only. And she had no desire to attract his admiration. She would marry him because it was necessary to do so and because she would thereby be released from the nasty ch.o.r.e of finding herself a husband within the next few years.

But she did wish that she looked less childish. She was eighteen years old, fully a woman. And yet she looked like a child, younger even than Jemima, she sometimes thought in despair. She was small and plumpa"her mother's protestations to the contrary never convinced hera"and her round face accentuated by her thick hair did nothing to reveal to a stranger that she was a woman of mature years already. To a man of close to Papa's age she was going to look like a veritable babe.

Arabella sighed. Perhaps she should have been more insistent when Mama had recommended the blue sash that she not wear it. It really did make her look as if she had just stepped out of the nursery.

"There, my love," Lady Astor was saying to Frances, patting her shoulder, "you are showing great fort.i.tude, as I knew you would. Put your handkerchief away; your eyes are quite dry again. His lords.h.i.+p will be here at any moment, and it would not do at all for him to see you cry, even though it is Bella he is to marry. He will think that you and Bella have quarreled over him, and that would not give him a favorable impression of our family."

"Dear Bella," Frances said, her voice quavering and her eyes looking suspiciously bright again. "His lords.h.i.+p will see immediately how dearly we all love you. He must see that we have not sacrificed you but that you have sacrificed yourself entirely of your own free will. Oh, I do hope he is not quite bald or white-haired or toothless."

"Gracious, my love!" her mother exclaimed. "Papa was none of those things. Papa was quite a handsome figure of a man to his dying day." She removed her own handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. "Bella, my love, I think it would be as well to remember not to swing your legs like that when his lords.h.i.+p arrives. It does not look quite ladylike."

"Yes, Mama," Arabella said, holding her legs still immediately. "Perhaps I should carry the stool over here to rest my feet on. Else I shall surely forget."

The door to the sitting room opened with a sudden crash and a tall, thin young girl in muslin and wide pink sash remarkably like Arabella's rushed into the room, auburn ringlets bouncing against the sides of her head. "Mama, he is come," she said. "In a strange carriage. Two men. I think one is a servant. They are in the hallway even now. I came down from the schoolroom as you said I might even though Miss Roberts said I should wait until I was summoned. But if I had done that, Mama, you might have forgotten and I would not have seen his lords.h.i.+p meet Bella. He did not look a very old man from upstairs. He does not stoop."

"Gracious, child!" her mother said. "The man is not old. Merely Papa's age or close to it. Straighten your sash and sit down quietly. Quietly, mind! Young ladies still in the schoolroom are to be seen and not heard, remember. And don't forget your curtsy in your eagerness to stare when his lords.h.i.+p is announced. Frances, my love, you are not about to cry again, are you? And, Bella, dear, don't swing your legs. Jemima, before you sit down, carry the stool across to Bella, if you please."

Viscount Astor felt almost instant relief after he had been announced and had made his entry into the drawing room of Parkland Manor. For one thing, Lady Astor displayed perfectly civilized manners as she crossed the room to greet him, hand extended, and curtsied as she welcomed him to his new home. And the three younger females behind her appeared suitably well-bred. Each had risen to her feet and was curtsying low to him.

His relief was mainly attributable, though, to the fact that he had seen his future bride during one sweeping glance around the room before focusing his attention on his hostess. And to say that he was relieved was perhaps an understatement. She was a beauty of the first order, with exquisite features and delicate blond coloring and a figure to satisfy even the most exacting male's dreams.

Her two sisters were much younger and quite unremarkable. The report he had had of their ages must have erred.

"But there must be some mistake, my lord," Lady Astor was saying. She was looking somewhat bewildered. "You cannot possibly be my late husband's cousin whom I met many years ago. Why, you must have been in leading strings at the time."

He bowed. "You must be referring to my father, ma'am," he said. "It is sometimes confusing to share the same name as one's father. My mother insisted on naming me Geoffrey after him. You were not informed, it seems, of the fact that my father pa.s.sed away four years ago."

"How distressing your loss must have been for you," she said, clasping her hands against her bosom. "But of course I remember that your poor dear papa had a son. And you are now Lord Astor, sir. I am delighted to make your acquaintance and only sorry for the ancient quarrel that has kept our families apart for so many years. My girls are as eager as I to renew the family acquaintance. May I present my daughters to you, my lord?"

Lord Astor a.s.sured her that he would be honored. He bowed in turn to Miss Frances Wilson, Miss Arabella, and Miss Jemima. And finally he took a seat close to the beauty of the family. He was not disappointed at his closer scrutiny of her face and figure. She had beautiful, trusting blue eyesa"when he glimpsed them. Most of the time she kept them modestly lowered. But even so there was a great deal to admire. Her dark eyelashes were thick and long and fanned her blus.h.i.+ng cheeks most becomingly.

She did not speak a great deal. But who would demand conversation from a female who had so much to offer the eye instead? As he sipped his tea, Lord Astor could picture to himself already the sensation she would create when he presented her to society as his wife. He could imagine the pleasure he would derive from taking her to a fas.h.i.+onable modiste and decking her out in the latest styles and fabrics.

Lord Astor conversed almost exclusively with his hostess. She tried to include one of the younger girls in the conversationa"the tiny one with the ma.s.ses of dark hair who sat on the window seat swinging her legs whenever she spokea"but the viscount did not give the girl a great deal of his attention. Or the other one, in facta"the thin auburn-haired one who stared mutely at him throughout tea. He did wonder briefly, as he had several times during the past few weeks, whether he would be expected to take his wife's mother and sisters back to London with him. But he suspected now that it would be unnecessary to do so. The two younger girls must be too young to make their come-outs yet.

He found, though, as he continued the conversation with Lady Astor, that he no longer cared greatly what good manners would compel him to do on the matter. So vast was his relief to find that after all he was to have a lovely and refined bride that he would have been prepared to drag along to London a dozen sisters if it had been necessary.

Lady Astor rose to her feet eventually and offered to escort him to his rooma"the master bedchamber, she was hasty to a.s.sure hima"where he might wish to change from his traveling clothes before dinner.

He bowed to the beauty and her sisters and followed his hostess from the room, well-satisfied with his first hour at Parkland Manor. For the remainder of the day, he decided, he would confine his conversation to polite topics. Time enough tomorrow to have private talk with Lady Astor concerning his coming nuptials and the future of herself and her two remaining daughters.

2.

Arabella was sitting on the lawn north of the stables, playing with George, her collie. He was not allowed in the house because he gave Frances the sneezes. But he certainly did not suffer from lack of human love. Arabella spent every spare moment out-of-doors, and George could usually be seen loping along in her wake or das.h.i.+ng on ahead of her. Today, though, she was sitting, scratching his ears, ignoring his frequent invitations to get up and romp. She did not want to be seen from the house.

She had left Frances crying in her mother's sitting room. Her sister had been unwilling or unable to say a word but had merely wilted gracefully onto a sofa and buried her face in her lace handkerchief. Mama, who had summoned Arabella to inform her that Lord Astor had requested a private audience later in the morning, suggested that perhaps Arabella should leave again. Perhaps Frances would speak to her mama alone.

But Arabella knew what had upset Frances. She was weeping even more bitterly than she had during the previous two weeks, knowing that the sacrifice Arabella had so cheerfully agreed to make had now turned into a bitter sacrifice indeed. Frances had guessed that the prospect of wedding the viscount was far more daunting to her sister now than it had been before, and her tender heart had set her to crying again.

Arabella had felt almost like crying herself since the afternoon before, except that she would not really know how to go about deriving any comfort from sobs and tears. From her limited experience with both, she would only make herself feel worse. Sobs caused a sore chest, tears a blocked nose. And both, of course, caused s.h.i.+ny red blotches on face and neck. No, she would not cry. And she would not complain or otherwise show her mother and sisters how insupportable her fate had now become. She could not burden them further with the knowledge that she now wished it were Frances who had been chosen as Viscount Astor's bride.

How could she possibly marry Lord Astor? He was not at all the comfortable older man of her expectations. He was younga"surely no more than ten years her senior at the most. Anda"worsea"he was a handsome man. He was not tall, not very much above average height, in fact. But he was slim and graceful and had a manly, good-looking face and s.h.i.+ning dark hair. Quite the sort of man who would turn female heads even in a large a.s.sembly of gentlemen.

And worst of alla"oh, far worse than his youth or his good looksa"he was a confident, experienced man of the world. At least, he had given every indication of being both during the afternoon and evening of the day before. He had conversed with Mama on a wide variety of topics and had told them a good deal about London and the Continent. And there was an air about hima"Arabella could not put it into words exactly. There was something about him that suggested knowledge of the world and experience with its workings.

There was that way he had of looking at Frances, for example, as if he knew and appreciated her even from so slight an acquaintance and was confident that she must return his regard. And there was the way he had of not looking at herself. She did not even exist for him. She had very clearly been dismissed as an uninteresting child of no account. Although she had spoken ten times as much as Frances the day before, she would swear that he had not taken note of a word she had said or afforded her more than an occasional glance.

She was finding it very difficult to support the prospect of marrying Lord Astor. She would never be able to lose her awareness of her own dreadful shortcomings with him. She would always be uncomfortably aware of how young she looked, how small and plump, how round and childish of face. She would always be aware of the dullness of her conversation and the narrowness of her experience with life.

Oh, dear, Arabella thought, rubbing George's stomach with such energy that he waved his paws in the air in perfect ecstasy, she could never be comfortable with Lord Astor! And all she had ever asked of this marriage was that she feel at ease and that she be able to make her husband comfortable. Everything would have been all right with an older man. She need not have been conscious of herself with an older man.

But with this viscount! She would forever feel inferior. And she would forever feel uncomfortable in the knowledge that he must constantly look at her with distaste at worst, indifference at best. She would want to impress this man, and in her wildest dreams Arabella knew that there was nothing on this earth she could possibly do to draw his admiration.

Oh, how she wished that it were Frances who was to marry him. Frances was at least as beautiful as he was handsome. It was true that she had no more experience with life than Arabella, but with Frances that did not matter. Indeed, her very innocence gave her charm. A marriage between Lord Astor and Frances would be such an equal match. They would suit. They would be happy. He would be proud of Frances. Arabella had seen the day before that he already admired her sister.

And Arabella had a dreadful suspicion that Lord Astor had thought that Frances was his chosen bride. She had a.s.sumed that Mama had communicated her choice to him, but perhaps she had not. Perhaps the viscount had come to Parkland not knowing which sister was to be his bride. And if that were so, it was the most natural thing in the world that he would have thought Frances was the one. How dreadfully disappointed he would be when he discovered the truth this morning. In fact, perhaps he would renege on his promise and leave alone for London immediately.

What a dreadful humiliation that would be! Worse even than having to marry the man.

Arabella became suddenly and paralyzingly aware that the viscount, clad with suffocating handsomeness in green superfine coat, buff pantaloons, and white-topped Hessians, was striding toward the stables from the direction of the house. Perhaps he was leaving already. Or perhaps he had come in search of her, having learned the dreadful truth.

She ducked down, trying to make herself invisible even as George scrambled to his feet, barking furiously, and rushed toward the stranger. She might as well have waved a large red flag above her head, Arabella thought ruefully as she got to her feet with as much nonchalance as a wildly beating heart would allow, brushed at her skirt, and walked toward him, a smile of welcome on her face.

Her second guess had been the correct one, she thought with a sinking heart; he was on his way to talk to her. He turned immediately in her direction, and without any hesitation. Arabella stood still and waited. And smiled.

Lady Astor had been successful in persuading her eldest daughter to express her grief in words. It was not quite as Arabella thought, though.

"Mama, oh, Mama," Frances said, sniffing against her handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes with it, "why did no one think to inform us of the demise of his lords.h.i.+p? No, he was not his lords.h.i.+p, was he? Papa was still alive when he died. He was Papa's heir, yet no one told us of his death."

"It was on account of that quarrel, doubtless," her mother said. "So foolish it all was, to be sure. I cannot even rightly recall what it was all about, though I do remember that Papa was entirely in the right of it. But it was remiss and indeed spiteful of the family not to inform us of the pa.s.sing of Papa's heir. I do not wonder that the news coming suddenly as it did has shocked your sensibilities, my love."

"Oh, Mama, if I had only known!" Frances wailed, wringing her hands affectingly. "He is so young and handsome and fas.h.i.+onable. And amiable."

"Indeed, his lords.h.i.+p is a pleasant surprise," Lady Astor said. "A very agreeable young man indeed. He has not once made me feel that I am merely a guest in his home."

"Don't you see, Mama?" Frances' voice had become tragic. "There would have been no need for Bella's sacrifice if I had just known. I might have taken the burden upon myself."

"Indeed, my love," her mother said with a sigh, "you would make a far lovelier viscountess than Bella. And I am sure his lords.h.i.+p would prefer to have you. He has had eyes for no one but you since his arrival yesterday afternoon."

Frances pressed her handkerchief to her eyes again.

"Of course," her mother said, brightening, "I have not spoken to his lords.h.i.+p yet. He does not know which of you is to honor him with her hand. I am sure that Bella would have no objection to a change in plan. Shall I talk to her, my love, and suggest that you marry Lord Astor after all?"

Frances looked up, tears sparkling on her lashes, her eyes a deeper blue than usual. "Oh, Mama," she said, "that you should be the one so to tempt me. No, I could not do it. Dear Bella has made the sacrifice so cheerfully for all our sakes, and I was only too ready to allow her to do so when I imagined that his lords.h.i.+p was an old man. Now she is being rewarded for her selflessness. She is to have a young and handsome husband. She deserves her good fortune, Mama, for she is an angel. I am happy for her. I truly am."

She proceeded to prove her point by dissolving into tears yet again.

Lady Astor rose to her feet and patted her daughter rea.s.suringly on the shoulder. "I think I have two angels for daughters," she said. "You have a generous heart, my love. Many is the sister who would be jealous of Bella under the circ.u.mstances. But you are right. She deserves this reward. His lords.h.i.+p will be fortunate indeed to acquire such a sweet bride."

She patted Frances on the shoulder again and announced that it was time to join his lords.h.i.+p in the morning room to make the nuptial arrangements.

Lord Astor did not want to be on his way to find Miss Arabella Wilson. Not by any meansa"she was the small dark-haired one, he gathered. But he supposed there was no point at all in delaying the moment. Sooner or later he must go through the formality of making the girl an offer. It might as well be sooner, since there was no earthly way he could get himself out of the predicament.

Just the day before, he had been prepared for disaster. He had talked himself into expecting that his bride might be ugly or awkward or vulgar. He had even persuaded himself of the possibility that she might be all three. It was cruel of fate to have buoyed up his spirits as it had done from the moment of his arrival until just half an hour before.

It had not even entered his head since the previous afternoon that perhaps his chosen bride was not the beautiful Frances. Indeed, he had not dreamed that either of the other two girls was old enough to be considered. He had not taken a good look at either, but his distinct impression had been that both were mere children. Yet it seemed that the solicitor had not erred in the one detail he had given about the three daughters of his predecessor. Miss Arabella Wilson was eighteen years old.

Old enough to be his bride.

It had been a cruel blow, when he had renewed his offer to Lady Astor a little earlier, to be told that, yes, she was sensible of the great honor he was doing her family and that her second daughter would be happy to receive his addresses. He feared that his jaw might have dropped at first, so unexpected had her words been. Her second daughter? He could not even recall at that precise moment exactly which of the two sisters that was not Frances was the elder.

But what could he do or say? He had bowed and said all that was appropriate to the occasion. And Lady Astor had released him, a.s.suring him that she understood that he would wish to acquaint himself better with Arabella and settle the matter with her before discussing details of the nuptials.

He had bowed and asked where he might find Miss Arabella.

She had told him that the girl was probably outside where she usually was. She was possibly with her dog in the vicinity of the stables.

And so she was, Lord Astor found with some relief. He might have lost his nerve entirely if he had had to hunt for her. He saw her as soon as he turned his head in the direction of the black-and-white collie that was bounding toward him, barking enthusiastically. She was sitting on the gra.s.s, but she rose hastily to her feet and began to walk toward him. Clearly she was expecting him.

Lord Astor changed direction and smiled as he approached her.