Chapter 3

 

 

“Oh, my darling Aphrodite, I am so proud of you.” Hazel, the Marchioness of Temple, took her daughter by the hands and twirled her around the room. Her blond curls swirled across a lovely flushed face, and her robe of willow green muslin twirled around her slim figure. “So very, very proud.”

Her mother’s excitement confused Aphrodite. After she’d removed her pelisse and entered her mother’s parlour to ask when her father would be home, Mama had run toward her with a smile and started dancing. Certainly she couldn’t have heard about Mr. Horne’s offer yet. “Why are you proud of me, Mama?” she asked.

“Never would I have thought it of you, dearest. Terpsichore, yes, and Athena when she’s a little older—although she is not much of a challenge. But for this to happen to my daughter! Well, I never would have believed it.” The marchioness stopped twirling and tumbled onto an elegant Egyptian couch.

A little dizzy, Aphrodite asked, “How did you hear of this so quickly?”

“Your father told me. It happened just this morning, and, dear man, he stopped by on his way to Tattersall’s to tell me.”

“Do you mean that Mr. Horne has already spoken to him?”

“No, dear, not Mr. Horne. Warwick.”

“Warwick wants to marry me? How odd.” Aphrodite tilted her head as she considered this. She experienced a strange but pleasant reaction and smiled.

“Not marriage, dearest. The wager.”

“The wager?” She shook her head. “Mama, please tell me what has happened.” Aphrodite settled herself against the curved arm of the sofa to listen.

“The betting book at White’s. You are in the betting book.” The marchioness clapped her hands together.

“I am?” Aphrodite sat up so quickly she almost fell off the sofa. “Whatever for?”

“Warwick has wagered five hundred guineas—five hundred guineas, my dear!—that he will be able to melt the ice and kiss you.”

Aphrodite collapsed back. “How insulting.”

“Oh, dearest, I was afraid you’d think that, but it’s not, you know. In certain circles, to be in the betting book is an achievement.” She lowered her impossibly long lashes. “When I first came out, there were no fewer than seven wagers about me. Only your father won, of course.”

It was useless to attempt to explain her feelings, Aphrodite knew. “How interesting,” she said. “I’m glad I made you proud.”

“Oh, dear, you aren’t happy about this.” The marchioness placed her hand on her daughter’s. “Why is that, darling?”

“It’s just that we’re so very different, Mama. The things that interest you and are important to you aren’t to me. I mean, everyone else in this family follows their impulses. They don’t care what other people think. I find that very uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry, dear. Even as bubbleheaded as I am, I know that there are times you feel unlike the rest of us. That’s why I found this wager so exciting. It is something we have in common.”

“Oh, Mama. I have nothing in common with anyone else in this family.”

“Of course you do, dear Ditie.”

“What is one thing I have in common with you and Papa and Terpsi and Athena, except blood?”

The marchioness wrinkled her lovely brow but said nothing.

“We have nothing in common,” Aphrodite said. “Except we all have terrible names.”

The marchioness gasped. “They are lovely names. My darling, I worked so hard to find you a name to fit you exactly. When you were a baby, you loved to be held and kissed. That’s why we named you for Aphrodite, the goddess of love.”

“I’d rather have been Susan or Augusta or anything but Aphrodite.”

“I gave you such beautiful names because my own is so plain—Hazel.”

“What’s wrong with that, Mama? Everyone can spell it and pronounce it.”

“What’s the matter with a name like Hazel?” She looked at her daughter, tears gathering in her luminous eyes. “Look how beautiful I am. And I was named after a nut.”

“Oh, Mama, please forgive me. I’ve made you sad.” Aphrodite reached for a handkerchief. “I feel out of sorts today. I love my name. Thank you. And you are the most magnificent Hazel in the world.”

The marchioness blew her nose, daintily. “It’s hard to feel beautiful when your name is Hazel.”

“And I don’t mind about the wager,” Aphrodite lied. “I’m glad you’re excited about it.”

“I’m delighted, my dear.” Her mother wiped her eyes then patted Aphrodite’s hand. “What is this you were saying about Mr. Horne?”

“He wants to see father tomorrow at noon.”

“An offer. How wonderful. An offer from Mr. Horne. He’s a most sincere young man. How do you feel about his offer?”

Aphrodite could not put her emotions into words. Hearing about the wager by Warwick reinforced her earlier decision. It would be better to be married and safe from him. Was it cowardly to use Mr. Horne this way? No, she thought. She’d be a loyal and loving wife. It would be a good marriage. Not as passionate as her parents’, but that could be counted as an advantage.

In addition, it was the only offer she’d received. She had no desire to be a maiden aunt to what was certain to be an enormous brood of nephews and nieces. The sober young men who interested her were always scared away by her family; and the men who flirted with her because of her family she found to be shallow and foolish.

“I’m very pleased,” she said.

“Then your father and I will be happy with you.” Her mother enfolded Aphrodite in a hug, patting her back. “Oh, my dear, we’ll plan the most amazing wedding.”

Aphrodite shuddered.

 

• • •

 

After Mr. Horne’s arrival the next morning, Aphrodite waited in the parlour with her mother while he spoke with her father. It was nearly twelve thirty when the marquis ushered the young man into the room.

“I believe Mr. Horne would like to speak to Aphrodite in private,” he said to his wife.

“Of course, my love.” The marchioness rose, kissed her daughter on the cheek, and left the room on her husband’s arm.

Neither Mr. Horne nor Aphrodite spoke for a minute. He walked across the wide expanse of gold carpet, sat in a chair opposite her, and cleared his throat. “I have spoken to your father and believe we have reached an understanding.”

“Yes?”

“I would like to marry you.”

“How nice,” Aphrodite murmured. “I would be very happy to marry you.”

He smiled. “I, too, am delighted. However, before we announce our engagement, I’d like you to visit our estate, Windwillow, to meet my mother. She’ll be delighted with you and you with her, but, before we make our engagement public, I’d like her approval.”

“Of course.” Why did she feel relief that the engagement was not to be revealed immediately?

“I must tell you this. My mother has heard of your family.”

“Yes?” Aphrodite drew herself up and fixed him with a piercing gaze.

“As you know, they are somewhat, well, infamous.” His cheeks flushed under her stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Aphrodite glared at him. Her family might drive her wild, but she allowed no one else to criticize them. “You are speaking of my family.”

“I apologize. That was a poor choice of words. I have found you to be conscientious and responsible, but my mother needs to meet you and learn that for herself.”

“In other words, your mother wants to know if I am different from the rest of my family in, at least, that one aspect before I am allowed to join hers?” Her betrothed hardly seemed transported by love but, then, neither was Aphrodite.

“I wouldn’t state it quite so bluntly. We live quietly. I don’t know if someone like, oh, like your sister, Lady Athena, would be happy in the country. In addition, you and I have not been acquainted for long. We do want to make sure that we are suited, do we not?” He stood and bowed over her, taking her hand.

Mollified, she said, “Of course. That sounds sensible.”

“For that reason, I’m arranging a small house party for next month and hope that you and your parents and any other members of your family will be able to stay with us for a fortnight. The guests will include only family and a few close friends. In that way, you can get to know my mother, an exceptional woman, as I’ve said. I know you will admire her.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“And there is, of course, something about your family that my mother is sure to admire.”

“What is that?” She wrinkled her brow, trying to guess what about her family could possibly impress the admirable Mrs. Horne.

“Your mother’s remarkable fruitfulness.”

“I beg your pardon.” With a leap, she came to her feet.

“Oh, I know such a conversation would not be proper in society but we are, after all, almost betrothed, and I feel I must discuss this with you.”

“One of the reasons you want to marry me is because I have so many brothers and sisters?” She stared at him.

“It was one of the things that first attracted me to you. I told you that I’m an only child. It is my mother’s dearest wish to dandle a quiver of grandchildren on her knee. She will make the most excellent of grandmothers.”

“You want to marry me so I can give your mother grandchildren?” Aphrodite spun and walked to the window.

“There are other reasons. I believe you and I share the same interests, that we will live quiet and comfortable lives together.” She could hear his voice coming closer to her. “Of course, I must choose a woman my mother will accept. The extreme fertility of your family is just an added incentive.” He paused. “Have you made your decision too precipitously? Would you like more time to consider?”

It wasn’t unusual, Aphrodite reflected. Certainly a man wanted an heir—or, in Mr. Horne’s case, many heirs. A wife’s duty was to present him with such tributes. For a moment, she pictured herself surrounded by twelve children: some tugging on her skirt, others in her arms sobbing, still others jumping and running from her. She almost fled, but she knew the scene she envisioned was unrealistic. There would be an army of nursery maids and governesses.

But she would still have to give birth to all of them. And conceive them with this man whom, as he said, she hardly knew.

On the other hand, there was the dangerous lure of Warwick, who had no intention of marriage. In truth, she had no other prospects.

She turned and looked up at him. “Yes, I’ll be happy to spend a fortnight at your estate. I shall discuss this with my parents.”

“You have made me the happiest of men.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“And I.” Aphrodite whispered the words through lips she forced to smile. “I am the happiest of women.”

 

• • •

 

“Mama? Papa?” Aphrodite knocked on the door of her parents’ chambers and waited. “It is I, Aphrodite.”

“Come in, darling,” her mother shouted.

The apartment consisted of a parlour with an adjoining bedroom. The walls were blue and white stripes; the carpet was blue and the furniture was blue and white. It was the perfect background for a blond, as were all the rooms in the town house.

As she had feared, the marquis was sitting in a comfortable blue chair and her mother was snuggled in his arms. When does desire begin to fade? she wondered.

“Mama, Papa, Mr. Horne has asked me to visit his family at their country estate for a fortnight in a few weeks. He hopes that you will be able to accept the invitation of his esteemed mother.”

“Oh, dear.” The marchioness slid from her husband’s lap. “I was just imparting a tidbit of interesting news to your father.”

“Oh, Mama, no! Not again.”

“Yes, darling. You will soon have another darling brother or sister.”

“Mama! Papa! Again?”

The marquis stood. “Am I not the most fortunate of men? To have married a woman of such perfection and fecundity?”

It wouldn’t do any good to remonstrate with them. Aphrodite had attempted to explain how embarrassing such productivity was six years earlier, when Ceto was born—then Demeter and Hepaestus appeared, and now this poor infant who would assume another unpronounceable, unspellable Greek name.

“Papa, you are truly blessed,” Aphrodite agreed.

“But because of my interesting condition,” her mother said, “we will not be able to visit Mr. Horne’s estate. Your papa insists we go home now, so I can rest on the estate.” She settled on a chair and patted the seat of one next to her, continuing as Aphrodite sat, “You know how he hates for me to travel during this time, but I’ll write a nice letter of explanation.”

“Oh, no. I’ll tell Mr. Horne and he can tell his mother.” Aphrodite preferred the ton not hear about the fourteenth Herrington quite so soon.

“It seems a havey-cavey way to handle this,” her mother protested.

“Oh, no. Hr. Horne says he plans a very informal house party.”

The marquis reached across the distance that separated them to pat his daughter’s hand. “We shall invite them to the estate, perhaps for a family Christmas.”

“However, you will need to take a chaperone,” the marchioness stated. “Terpsi will go with you, to lend countenance.”

“Mama, Terpsi will hardly add countenance. It would be better for me to go alone. This is only a family gathering.”

The marchioness’s eyes narrowed. “We may often behave in a harum-scarum manner, but I do know what is proper and what is not. Your going to the house party alone will never do. I’ve heard, although I’ve never met her, I have heard that Mrs. Horne is a very proper woman. You will need a chaperone.”

“I have Mignon,” Aphrodite insisted. Surely her mother knew Terpsi’s presence never calmed any gathering.

“Mignon,” her mother stated frostily, “is not a member of your family. She is your dresser and not a proper chaperone.”

“Mama, Terpsi is . . . eccentric,” Aphrodite pleaded.

“She is a lady of standing,” her father stated. “I will discuss her responsibilities with her.”

“Yes, Papa,” Aphrodite accepted the inevitable.

“And you’ll need to take Athena with you,” her mother said.

“Oh, Mama, no. Please, no. Why?” She lifted her eyes to beg not to be burdened with her frivolous sister. “Isn’t Terpsi enough? And Athena hates the country. You know how fastidious she is. She hates to get her hem dirty when she walks across grass.”

“Dear Athena won’t want to leave London and return with us during the season. With you and Terpsi gone, there is no one in town I’d trust to watch over her.” The marchioness stared at her sensible daughter. “You know what I mean by that.”

“Yes, Mama,” she agreed with a sigh. Now, not only would she have to use the time to become better acquainted with her nearly betrothed and meet and impress his mother, she would have to make sure Terpsi didn’t do anything outrageous and that Athena didn’t find a handsome young footman to kiss.

“It’s wonderful to have a levelheaded daughter we can trust to take care of everything.” The marchioness patted Aphrodite’s hand.

All things considered, Aphrodite was growing tired of these little pats. Each one seemed to mean she’d taken on another onerous and unwanted responsibility.

“And we can plan your wedding for about nine months from now,” her mother promised.

The Herringtons measured time differently from the rest of society, Aphrodite mused. In her family, a year was calculated on a calendar nine months in length.