Barbara, wake yourself quickly.”
She groaned and batted at the hand shaking her shoulder, but Sarah had never been one to give up and this morning proved no different.
“Come, Barbara. Your father has sent for you.”
That drove away the last of her weary state, and she pushed herself upright, her covers spilling over one side in a cascade of cloth. “My father?”
She glanced toward the window, expecting to find the sun already sinking past its apex. They’d been to a theatrical extravaganza the previous night that ran far into the wee hours of the morning, but still she hadn’t expected to oversleep so grossly.
A faint grey sky greeted her beyond the lace curtains, the product of overcast that masked all but the hint of a globe still at its height.
Sarah, looking all too alert for having stayed up to see Barbara safely into bed, gave a soothing smile. “There’s nothing out of place nor reason to worry. Your father just finished with a most promising visitation, and the young gentleman wishes to speak to you.”
Bemused, Barbara could only stare at her friend as she tried to gather her thoughts.
Sarah laughed and turned to the wardrobe to choose an appropriate gown for visitors when none of the morning gowns would suit with their unadorned, reclaimed fabric.
The glimpse of a cheeky smile before Sarah turned away offered the telling clue, and Barbara’s sleep-addled mind finally caught up with the events at hand. “Who is this caller?” For just one fraction of a moment, her thoughts swung to Aubrey before she dismissed it as an impossibility, and an unwanted one as well.
“How am I to know? I don’t wander about among the peerage. You’ve hardly had time for any activity one such as myself could chaperone of late. He’s a handsome one, though, and well-mannered from what I could tell.”
Barbara swung her legs free and crossed to give her friend a hug. “You know your company would be as welcome as any had I a choice in the matter. I wish we had more time to spend together.”
Sarah shrugged with one shoulder, but the blush tainting her cheek told Barbara she’d read the situation correctly.
“Just you wait until you make your match. Soon you’ll have plenty others to keep you busy, that is if your mother even lets me come with you.”
A full laugh wiped away any lingering sleepiness despite the short rest.
Suddenly, Barbara felt ready to take on the challenge of the day and her caller who had arrived close to unfashionably early. “As if Mother would try to separate us now. It’s not like she succeeded when we were younger, and she’d not risk a falling out with her only daughter.”
“It’s your father who most threatens me at the moment, Barbara. If I don’t get you tidy and down to the morning room quickly, he’ll ship me off to the country estate, never to see London again.”
Remembering the freedom of the country and pleasures won on childhood visits to her uncle’s holdings, Barbara could hardly consider that a punishment. But she could see the thought had her friend flustered. “I’m up, and you’re an old hand at making me more than presentable. There’s nothing to fear except the purpose for this visit.”
Sarah shook her head even as she pulled the underdress over Barbara’s shoulders. “As if you had any doubt to his purpose. He might have come earlier than the other two, but he’ll have gotten the same speech from your father and now seeks to ply his case with you. Don’t wait too long to decide among them, or there will be lines out the front door and down the street.”
Barbara helped smooth the next layer of fabric down, annoyed she’d missed the chance to linger in her lighter garments. “There’s not a thing to distinguish them beyond land and title. I have well enough of both. My father’s estate will go to my children, unlike some entitled only to the male line, and what care I for a shift in my standing.”
Threading a ribbon through to tame Barbara’s curls in place of a long brushing, Sarah said only, “You’d care if your station lowered through all this.”
“At least then I wouldn’t be put on show, commanded to parade about for all comers.”
The image broke what tension had started to gather, and they laughed together, much too jolly for the hour.
“At least they haven’t checked your teeth the way your uncle assesses horses to add to his breeding program.”
Barbara snapped her teeth at Sarah and let loose a high whinny even as her friend ushered her out the door, a bright blush painted on both their cheeks. Their lips held smiles to match the sparkle in their eyes.
They passed a mirror and Barbara thought they could be mistaken for sisters out seeking fun as much as mistress and maid.
When they reached the morning room, though, all frivolous thought vanished with the realization of what awaited her.
She may have been misguided in her first choice, but she refused to settle for less than a true match in heart and mind when she had her whole life ahead of her.
Some girls might be willing to marry an old goat knowing he’d soon die off and leave them free to live a life less strangled by convention, but not her.
Barbara might not always agree with her parents, and they’d been known to give each other icy glares on occasion, but with everything that counted, they stood together. She wanted nothing less for her own pairing, though she had little hope of finding it any time soon if the events so far this season proved any indication.
Sarah swung the door wide after a quick rap on the wood in warning, unaware of the turn in Barbara’s mood.
The gap revealed a baron with whom she’d danced a few nights previous. He stood out from the others because he had taken a turn around the room with her while the musicians rested. They’d conversed on nothing significant, but some of his observations had amused her.
It could have been a worse selection to begin her day, but she wanted to demand just how he thought he knew her well enough to offer a future between them of companionship much less more.
She restrained her tongue and sat prettily in the chair while her father stood just outside, allowing the baron privacy to make his case, but not enough to compromise her.
Her thoughts wandered as he spoke of his holdings and the connections he’d made at court.
Perhaps those girls seeking an older man had something to their thinking. Convention held her bound in this uncomfortable situation. She could not reject his offer without cause, and the only cause they’d understand would be accepting another. She could only delay the choice.
None of the gentlemen, those who had spoken with her father, or those she’d engaged in conversation or shared a dance with, offered hope of a true bond as far as she could tell.
He caught her hand, and Barbara started at the touch, struggling to draw his name from her memory. She found only a faint impression of their time together, one that failed to give her anything but his title, something he made sure to emphasize at the least occasion, though it were not so high as to be remarkable among her suitors.
“Will you but agree?”
Whatever answer she might have given, Barbara had nothing but supposition to lead her to the question.
Surely he would not press her so quickly on the matter of marriage. He must have proposed some lesser engagement.
Grasping at straws, she chose her answer more from Sarah’s loneliness than any hope of it being a direct response to his query. “I’d love a carriage turn through the gardens. I’ve been so engaged of late some fresh air and a touch of sun will do me good.”
His grin confirmed she’d read the situation correctly. “My phaeton is quite elegant and swift. I’ve a matched pair most envy.”
Visions of a ride with Sarah along for company vanished at this description. She could not imagine what they’d find to converse about, nor had Barbara any interest in watching him handle what most likely were a skittish pair through the busy lanes of the garden, but she’d said too much to withdraw with any measure of grace.
“I’ll not have my daughter going about in some racing equipment, young man,” her father said, leaning in the door. “You will return tomorrow at a reasonable hour and in a sturdy vehicle with space enough for my daughter’s maid. For now, I think our repast is ready and have no interest in a meal gone off warm.”
The baron apologized all the way to the front door, and Barbara barely restrained the need to hug her father for his rescue.
“A racing phaeton. Just imagine,” Lord Whitfeld muttered to himself as he escorted her to the breakfast room, clearly having his own reasons for denying the baron his wish.
For just a heartbeat, she wondered how it would be to have the wind rushing through her hair as they sped down the lane. Convention constrained her from ever finding out, but she’d prefer her own hand on the reins, something so far beyond the pale as to be unimaginable, or should have been.
“ANOTHER OFFER WAS IT?” HER mother asked as they joined her for the meal. “And so eager. He must not have been as late at the theater the previous night as we were.”
Barbara let her father explain the early engagement as she gathered a selection from the side table. At least she had a carriage ride to look forward to. She had not been dissembling when she said she’d do better for some fresh air.
“That’s an impressive list you’ve gathered, my dear,” Lady Whitfeld announced at last, drawing Barbara into the conversation. “A duke, a marquess, a viscount, and a baron or two. Even better, all but one of them is in good standing with the banks.”
Facing her mother’s eager expression across the table soured what remained of Barbara’s cheer. “And what’s so impressive about them?”
Her question startled both parents, her mother going so far as to drop the knife she’d been holding. It clattered to the table as she stared at Barbara.
“Impressive are their titles and social standing. Why, any of the group would ensure your place in society, and that of your children,” her mother said with a pointed look to her own progeny. Having been raised in a tradesman’s house, wealthy or not, Lady Whitfeld’s elevation had been marked, her husband a prime catch.
“And that they have avoided the layers of debt sinking so many of the peerage is a measure of their acumen, especially at so young an age.”
“More likely that of their parents or men of business.” Barbara glanced from one parent to the next. “Is it so wrong to want what you have? To measure my life partner by more than the blunt in his pocket and his crest?”
Her parents exchanged a concerned look, but it was her mother who answered, “We did not come to this marriage with the understanding we have reached. It grew in the course of our lives. You see the result of much hard work and compromise. It’s not something that can be measured in the courting.”
A laugh came from her lips before she could smother it. “Are you saying Father chose you for practical concerns? I, for one, don’t believe that for a moment. He’s only happy to see those with good management because he’d been one of them and could marry for reasons other than to rescue his own inheritance.”
“Really, Barbara. Is that any way to speak to your mother?” Lord Whitfeld clearly could not deny the words so chose to question her tone instead.
She did not understand why they were so determined for her to settle when her father had not.
“It’s different for the girls,” Lady Whitfeld said as though Barbara had spoken her question aloud, “And where your father weighs in your favor, my own background is much more humble.”
Barbara lowered her fork to the table, taking a moment to settle it against the fine linen before asking, “Are you saying we cannot secure a second season or even a third?”
From the flush that rose to color her father’s neck, the question hit too close to the mark, or so she thought until he marshalled a response.
“I won’t have you spreading rumors about my pockets. We are as well set up as any, and better than most. It’s not a matter of suffering your indecision. It’s how long you have to find a match before you start to look as though you are on the shelf compared to the fresh flowers, or you get a reputation for dangling hope when there is none.”
Lady Whitfeld leaned across the table to brush Barbara’s hand. “Right now you’re the belle of the ball, my dear. Gentlemen hope to claim a spot on your card while the young ladies look to you for someone to emulate. Such a state cannot last. Soon enough, the gentlemen will sour at being set against each other, and the girls will start to wonder at how you diminish their hopes by collecting all the eligible suitors for yourself. Some might even come to question your breeding, or think you vindictive.”
Her thoughts flashed to Aubrey, but her parents could not know the cause for her change in state.
Lord Whitfeld clasped his wife’s hand, smiling at her even as he spoke. “Though you have the right of my feelings, I was not the only one to notice such a beauty. The reasons her parents supported my offer out of the many made had little to do with how well we would suit so many years later.”
Barbara leaned forward to watch her parents, feeling in awe and much the intruder as she often did. How could they deny her desire for the same connection with her life mate?
Her mother turned then and met her gaze. “Unlike you, my father had no intention of letting a flighty young girl, in his own words, make so important a decision as to choose her husband, especially not when he hoped to gain a place in society as a result.” She glanced at her husband before continuing, “And I had no way of knowing his interest would deepen from an infatuation to something much stronger. Why, we barely knew each other back then. No more than you know any of those now vying for your hand.”
The rattle of teacups against their saucers gave voice to the force with which Barbara propelled herself up from the table. “So your grand advice is what? Go down to White’s and toss a few cards to choose among them? Or maybe head to the docks and roll dice? If there’s no way to judge my future from what I can see, where’s the point in a choice at all?”
“Now, Barbara, don’t agitate yourself.” Her father half rose to stop her. “We’re not saying there’s no choice to be made, just that you do not have the ability to see into the future. The aspects you might consider important now could prove to be so much less so. This is why parents judge based on title and wealth. If you suit at all, there’s a chance you’ll grow to have more of a connection as you face life together.”
“A chance. A hope. These are not words to measure my future against. None of these gentlemen give me the least expectation of their regard deepening, nor do I have even a passing fancy for them.”
This time both her parents thrust to their feet, albeit with more grace so the table didn’t shift.
“Barbara, if you are incapable of taking this task, then we will have to choose for you,” her father announced even as her mother said, “No need to be so frivolous.”
The last struck harder, measuring as it did against Aubrey’s plain speaking where he thought he would not be overheard, but Barbara ignored the twinge to glare at her father. “You promised I could make the choice, and you’ll not be changing that. I will make a decision, but I will not be hasty, and it will not be now. Now, I’m going for a ride to clear my head.”
As she left the room, she heard her mother exclaim, “I knew no good would come of giving our daughter her way in this.”
She did not hear her father’s reply, but didn’t need to. She had enough to fuel her angry march through the house in how her father tried to go back on his word and her mother saw frivolity in a diminishing hope for happiness.
“Sarah,” she called out as soon as she reached her rooms, knowing her friend would be busy arranging the next of her outfits. “Where are you, Sarah? I’m going for a ride, and you’ll be my chaperone.”
Her friend glanced up from the outfit she’d been repairing. “Now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Whether picking up on her tone, or just as eager to leave the confines of their town house, Barbara could not complain about the maid’s speed. Still, it seemed an age before they quit the residence.
If only she had a field to bolt across like she had when visiting her uncle as a child. Here she had only tidy streets and a garden where any hint of wildness would set the gossips spinning.