Dedication
Formyparents,
thankyou,foreverythingContents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Contents
Prologue
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
ReadonforanexcerptfromYou’retheProblem,It’sYou
AbouttheAuthor
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
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Guide
Cover
Contents
ProloguePrologue
April1857
Beth
BethwishesMothercouldjustleavewellenoughalone.ThealcoholstingsagainstherbackandsheshuddersasMotherblows
onthespotatthebottomofherleftshoulder.Bethreallydoesn’tthinkoneblemishwouldbethedeathofher.They’relucky
shedidn’tbreakoutinhivesinfrontofthequeen;onepimplecan’tmakethatmuchdifferencenow.
BethstaresatherreflectioninherbedroommirrorasMotheradjustshershift.Hermakeup’sbeendone,dullbrownhaircoiled
andwrappedartfullyhighonthebackofherhead,withcarefulpiecesleftframingherface.Shelooksnolessapainted
peacockthanshedidthisafternoon,onlynowshe’sexhausted,andhungry,andtheyhaven’tevenwrestledherintoherhoop
yet.
“Youlookwonderful,”Mothersays,wrappingherarmsaboutBeth’sshouldersandleaningdownsotheirfacesarelevel.
“Youlookwonderful,”Bethcorrects.
ViscountessCordeliaDemerovenalwayslooksperfect.High,sharpcheekbones,darkpiercingbrowneyes,bountifulhairsweptbackinanelegantchignon—she’sbeautiful,andgraceful,and(nowthatshe’soutofhermourningcolors)cheerful.She’saconstantsocialdelight.Bethwouldrathersinkstraightintothefloorthanmusterupthatenergy.
“You’llbethetalkoftheball,”Motherinsists,gingerlynudgingBeth’sheadwithherown.“Thequeenthoughtyoubeautiful,
andI’vealreadyarrangedanumberofmorningcallsforus.Allyouhavetodoissmile.”
Bethglowersathermother,whosimplylaughsandreachesaroundtotickleher.Bethshrieksandjumpsaway.Mothersnickers.
Twentyyearsandshe’snevermanagedtocurbthatreflex,andMotherstillrevelsinitanychanceshegets.
“See,”Mothersays,pointingatBeth’ssuddenlyflushedcheeksandreluctantlaugh.“Beautiful.Now,let’sfinishgetting
youready.”
Bethsighs,butdutifullyletsMotherhelpherintohercorset,adjustingthemodestpadding.Bethhasanaturallytrimwaist,
buteventhetighteststayscan’tgiveherabosom.Mother,bycontrast,hasamplecurvesbeneaththelavenderlaceacross
herchest—modest,butcoquettish.
ShelooksstunninginherpurpleskirtsandBethwishesforthethousandthtimethatshewasmorelikehermotherthanher
latefather.They’vedivestedthemselvesofeverythingelseofhis,butBeth’sfigureisn’tsomethingshecanlockawayin
atrunk,outofsight,outofmind.Herroundface,flatchest,andskinnyframeareallhissideofthefamily.
BethstepsintothehoopcageandhelpsMothergatherittosettleonhersmallwaist.Togethertheyadjustthehoopsandthengingerlyslipapetticoatoverthecurvedsteelandtaping.BethmarvelsatthelightnessofherskirtandsmilesasMotherwinks.Itbeatsthesevenpetticoatsshewouldhavewornlastyear,hadshebeenpresentedasplanned.
BethstepstothesidetoallowMothertosliparoundherandpickuptheskirtfromherbed.Herhoopsknockthevanitychair,
anditscrapesloudlyagainstthewoodenfloor.BethgroansandMotherlaughs.
“You’lladjust,”shepromises.
“Right.I’llknockthemallover,”Bethsays,goingforplayful,thoughshecantellbyMother’sfrownthatshe’scomeoff
morepetulantandanxious.
“You’llhavefun.Youmightevenmeetsomeonespecialtonight.”
Bethnarrowshereyes.“IthoughtIwastogointothiswithasensibleheadforagoodmatch.”
“There’snothingthatsaysagoodmatchcan’tbealovematch,”Mothersaysfirmly.
“OnlythatI’vejustthefourmonthstofallmadlyinloveorwe’redyinginahovel,”Bethcounters.Mother’sfrowndeepens
andhereyesturndowncast.“I’msorry.I’mtired.Let’sdothedress.”
MotherstepsinfrontofBeth,blockingherviewofthemirrorsoBeth’sleftlookingatherquietlydevastatedface.She
reallydidn’tmeantobringthisup,tonight.Sheshouldn’tbeatadeadhorse.
“Ihopeyoufindsomeoneyouwanttomarry.ThatiswhatIwantforyou.”
Bethnods,bitinghercheekasMothertakesherhands.“Iknow.”
“AndI’mverysorry.Ihopeyouknowthattoo,”Motherinsists,duckingherheadtocatchBeth’seyes.
“Iknow,”Bethagrees.
It’snothermother’sfaultthey’reinthissituation.Andshe’sspentalmostherentiresettlementasitisfortheirdresses.
Nowit’sBeth’sresponsibilitytomakesurehermother’ssacrificespayoff.Theyneedsomewheretolivecometheendofthe
season,andifBethfailstofindahusband—
“Let’sgetyouintothisbeautifulgown,shallwe?”
Bethnods,breakingeyecontact.SheraisesherarmssoMothercanlowertheskirttheirhousekeeper,MissWilson,laidout
beforetheyshooedherawaytorestfortheevening.ShewatchesasMotheradjuststhefabricuntilitsitscomfortablyover
herhipsandthenhelpsslideherarmsthroughtheshortcappedsleevesofthebodice.
Shedoeslooknice,shesupposes.Thebluecomplimentsherpaleskinanddarkhair.Herhaircan’tholdacandletoMother’s,
butshealwaysenjoyswearingafewofhermother’sfamilyjewelsstuddedintoherbraidedbun.Makesherthinkofwhenshe
andMotherusedtogetdressedupandthrowtheirownfakeballswhenshewassmall—justthetwoofthemaloneinthecountry
intheirballgownswhileFatherstayedinLondonforthewinterseason.
Motherfinishesupthebuttonsanddoesthetopclasp,settlingtheveeacrossBeth’sshoulders.Shepushescloseandwraps
herarmsaroundBeth’swaist,meetinghereyesinthemirror.
“Ipromisetomorrowwe’llhavehotcakesforbreakfastandsleepuntilnoon,allright?”
Bethsmilesandleansbackintoher,grippingatherhands.“Allright.”
***
Gwen
“You’recheating!”
“You’recheating!”Gweninsists,glaringatherfatherthroughhermeshhood,assheteetersontheedgeofthestonewallaround
thegardenpond.
“Youdidn’triposte,”Fatherargues,foilstillpointedather,waiting.
“Youattackedtwice,”Gwensays.Shebacksalongtheunevenstones,onearmoutforbalance,theotherhandstillbrandishing
herfoil.“Anditdoesn’tbecomeamantoquibble.”
Fathersnortsandjumpsupontothewallinfrontofher,thetwoofthembalancedprecariously.Theybegintotradeattacks
again.Gwenadvances,butthenretreatsasFatherbearsdownonher.Shefeints,tryingtothrowhimoff,butmuchasitrankles,
he’sgotmovesshecan’thopetoparry.
Instead,Gwenleapssuddenlyfromthewall,takingofftowardthehouseattheoppositeendofthegarden,cackling.Father
shoutsbehindherandgiveschase.Shetwirlsaround,readytoreturnhisnextattack,whenthefoilispluckedfromherhand.
“Hey!”shesays,spinningtofindtheirhousekeeper,Mrs.Gilpe,frowningdownather.
“Engarde!”Fatheryells,strikingherintheback.
Gwenrevolves,glaringasshepullsoffherhelmet.“Foul,”shedeclares.
“Notso,”Fathercounters,removinghisownmask.“Mrs.Gilpeisbutanobstacle.Atrueopponentwouldhavekeptupherguard.”
“You’reafilthycheat,”Gwenhuffs,crossingherarms.Fathergrinsather,boyishlysmug.
“You’rebothridiculous,”Mrs.Gilpesays,hervoicefondbutfirm.Gwenturnstotakeinherunimpressedglare.“Getinside.
Thecarriagewillbehereinanhour.”
“Onemoreround?”theyexclaimtogether.
Mrs.Gilperollshereyes,hernarrowfacestillhardbutherlipstwitching.FatherglancesatGwenandthetwoofthemput
ontheirbestpouts.ButnothingwillswayMrs.Gilpetoday.
“IfyouwanttoattendtheHalyardBalldrenchedinsweatwithmattedhair,bemyguest,butneitherofyoucanreallyafford
tostarttheseasonthatpoorly,canyou?”
GwenlooksbackatFather,whomaintainshispoutforamomentbeforehisshouldersslump.“Cuttinglyastuteasever,Mrs.
Gilpe.Allright,Gwennie,goupandletthegirlsturnyouintoayoungladyagain.”
GwenwithersunderMrs.Gilpe’seagerlook.“Couldn’twejust—”
“Mrs.Gilpe’sright,”Fathersays,adoptingwhatGwenconsidershis“sternfatherface.”“Tonightisimportant.Wecanhave
arematchtomorrow.”
“Oryoucouldadmityou’reacheatingcheaterandwecouldmatchagainnow.”
“Thecarriagewillbehereinanhour,”FathersaysinacredibleimitationofMrs.Gilpe,whotuts.
“Likeitmattersifwe’reontime,”Gwensays.
“Regardlessofyourfeelingsonthematter,wemuststillattempttomakethisseasoncount,nomatterhowonerous.”
Gwennarrowshereyesathistone.“Areyougoingtobeagentleman,then?Standwithallthefathersandignorethedebutantes
thistime?”
“Ihavenevergoneafteradebutante,”Fathersaysquickly.
“No,no,justtheoperasinger,thedancer,theotheroperasinger,thewidowLoughton,thewidowChastley—”
“TheDowagerPinches,”Mrs.Gilpeputsin.
Gwengasps.“Youdidn’t!”
Fathergoesred,turningaglareontheirhousekeeper.Hestartsbackingtowardthehouse.“Thatwasyearsago.Shewasn’t
thedowagerthen,”hesays,hisvoicecracking.
“LordHavenfort’sright,”Mrs.Gilpesaysmildly.“Thelateearl’smotherhadn’tyetpassed.”
“Father!”Gwensqueaks,hurryingafterhim.TheDowagerPinchesisalmostseventy.
“Wewaltzedafewtimes,”Fatherdefends,puttinguphishandsbeforeslippingthroughthedoortothesolarium.
“Sureyoudid,”Mrs.Gilpesaysunderherbreath,holdingthedoorforGwen.“Comealong.”
“Father,”Gwenprotests,hoveringjustoutside.
“It’stime,”hesays,droppinghisindignance.Hehangsuphishelmetandturnstoherwitharaisedeyebrow.
Gwenreluctantlystepsinside,temptedtokeeparguing.Shethinksshecouldwearhimdown,givenenoughtime.Theybothhate
balls,andtheHalyardsevenmore.Theseasoniswretched,andneitherishappytobebackattheLondonhouseforfourmonths
ofteapartiesanddiscomfort.
“I’llbehaveifyouwill,”Fatherbargains.
Gwentossesherhelmetathim.Shehighlydoubtsthat.“Yougettodrinkandgamble.Hardlyafairtrade.”
“You’regambling,”Fathersays,catchingthehelmet.“Thinkofeverydanceasabet.Becharmingandpoisedandtheeducated
youngladyI’veraisedyoutobe,andthepayoutcouldbeenormous.”
Gwengroans.“That’shorrible.”
Mrs.GilpetugsthedoorshutandnudgesGwenforward.Maybehe’llbuyGwenanotherponyifshekeepsstalling.Shedidget
herownlandaulastyearasaconsolationprizeforendingtheseasonwithoutamatch,again.Betteryet,hecouldbuyher
aracinghorsethisyearwhenshecomesbackhusbandless.Surelyafterfourseasonsshedeservesaracinghorse.Theycould
betonittogether.
“Allkiddingaside,you’reabeautiful,accomplishedyoungwoman,andI’mproudofyou,”Fatherinsists,takingherhandto
draghertowardthefoyer.
Gwenbitesbackagrimace.Shehateswhenhegetssincerelikethis.Makesitsomuchhardertoarguewithhim.“Father,”
shewhines.
“Giveitarealtrythisyear,that’sallIask,”hesays.“Youdeserveahusband,andIknowifyouopenyourselfuptoit,
youcanfindone.Anymanwouldbeluckytohaveyou.”
TheyreachthebottomofthestairsandGwenhesitates.“You’llbehave?”
Mrs.Gilpestepsupbesideher,sighingimpatiently.
“Crossmyheart,”Fathersays,startingtosmileasherdefensescomedown.
“Fine,”Gwensays,tuggingoffherglovestowhackthemintoFather’schest.“Let’sgetthisoverwith,”shesaystoMrs.Gilpe.
Fathergivesheraplayfulbow,andMrs.GilpetakesGwen’sarm.GwenhuffsbutletsMrs.Gilpeguideherupthestairs,back
tohoopsandskirtsandafranklydisgustingnumberofhairpins.
TheEarlofHavenfort,DashiellFredricBertram,maybethebestcatchofeveryseason,dubiousreputationandall,butthe
appledoesn’tseemtofallclosetothetree.ForallFather’sinsistencethatifsheletsdownherguardshe’llattracta
goodhusband,Gwen’snotsosure.Beautyandpoiseandaccomplishmentshecanfake,butdeepdown,sheknowsshe’llmakea
horridwife.She’ssuretheycansmellitonher,likedogsdofear.
“Justremember,theHalyardshavethecrabpuffsyoulike,”Mrs.GilpesaysasshemarchesGwendownthesecond-floorhallway
toherroom.
Gwenlaughs,startled.“That’strue.Wantmetobringyousome?”
Mrs.Gilpepursesherlips,reluctanttoagreeastheycomeintoGwen’sroom.Herlady’smaid,Mrs.Stelm,isalreadywaiting
withthehoopsandcorsetandmakeupalllaidout.
“Pleasedo,”Mrs.Stelmsays.Mrs.Gilpethrowsupherhands.“What,youdon’twantany?”sheasks,grinningatMrs.Gilpe,
greeneyesbrightwithmirth.
“You’reallincorrigible,”Mrs.Gilpesays,spinningGwenaroundtostripheroutofherfencinguniform.
“Wetry,”Gwensays,winkingatMrs.Stelm,whogigglesinreturn,ignoringMrs.Gilpe’sfrown.
Gwenlistenstothembickerastheydressher,transformingherfromthecomfortofhomeintothepuffed-upshowbirdoftheopeningnightball.Andthoughthepinkgown,stylishlybraidedblondupdo,anddarklashesallcomplementherverywell,Gwen’snotsureatallthathercurvesandstatuswillbeenoughtoattractasuitor.
Theycertainlyneverhavebefore.ChapterOneBeth
Shetrippedonherentrancedownthestairs.Theycalledhername,sheandMotherentered,andBethtripped.Mothercaught
herandshe’sbeenswearingonallshecanthinkofforthepasttenminutesthatnoonenoticed,butshe’slying.Mothers
allaroundtheroomarelookingherupanddown,judging,deciding,crowing.
Beth’sbyfaroneoftheshortestgirlshere,aneckinjurywaitingtohappentoanyoftheirtall,stately-lookingsons.
Nowshe’sclumsyontopofit.Herfirstnightoutisalreadyadisaster.
“Darling,IneedtogospeakwithJuliet.”
“Youcannotleavemeherealone,”Bethhisses,holdingfastwhenMothergoestopullaway.
“Ihavetomaketheroundsandarrangeourappointments,”Motherwhispersback.Bothofthempausetosmileatsomeacquaintance
Bethcan’tremember,butwhosheknowscomesfrommoremoneythantheyeverhadwhenherfatherwasalive.“You’llbefine.
Just…mingle.”
“Mother,”BethprotestsevenasshereleasesMother’sarmfromherdeathgrip.Sheleftindentswithherfingers.
“Ipromise,you’llmakefriends.Justsmile,chinup,shouldersback,andhaveaglassofwine.”Bethfeelshermouthfallopenandquicklyshutsitlestanyonethinkherunseemly.“One,”Motherstresses.“Forthenerves.”
“Thoughfaintingmightnotbeabadoptioneither,”Bethmumbles.
MotherfrownsbutBethcantellshe’dratherlaugh.“One.”
“One,”Bethpromises,notingLadyBerthshirewavingMotherover.“Go,orshe’sgoingtoputaneyeout.”
MotherleansintokissBeth’scheekbeforesteppingaroundherandofftogatherwithhersocietyfriends.Bethwatches,
surprisinglyenvious,asMotheriseagerlyacceptedintotheirlittlecircle.Noneofthemmadeanefforttocomeseethem
inmourning;they’reficklefriends.ButatleastMotherhasfriendshere.
BethstaresoutattheenormousHalyardballroom,fulltoburstingwithdebutantes,mothers,andtheeligibleyoungbachelors
ofLondon’ssociety.ThevaultedceilingandwhitewallswithGreekcolumnsgivethespaceanalmostendlessfeeling.The
cacophonyofvoicesisdizzying,andthey’rebarelyintotheboozeyet.It’sallswirlsofpastelcolors,feathers,tulle,
andcoattails.Shecan’tevenimaginehowclaustrophobicitwillfeeloncethebandstartsandthethreehundredassembled
begintodance.
Howcanthereevenbespacetodance?shewondersasshebeginsmakingherwayacrosstheroom,eyeingtherefreshmentsonthefarside.Sheneedsaglassofwine
tomakeitthroughthisevening,perhapstwo.Shecanholdherliquor,despitewhathermotherthinks.MissWilson’sbeen
slippingherwhiskyformostofthelasttwoyears—insupervisedamounts,butstill.
Sheknowssheneedstoplasteronasmile,listentosomedullconversation,andbeginmakingherownconnections.Hopefullytotheyounggentlemen,butanyonewoulddo.Ifshecanmakefriendswithanyofthegirlsexpectedtomarrythisseason,shecanatleastcatchtheeyeoftheircastoffs.She’sundernoillusionthatshe’saprimematch.Asuitableone,surely,butshehasnofortunetooffer.
She’llbringherdowryandperhapsthesmallcountryestate,ifhercousinJameswilldeigntoletthemkeepitoncehecomes
ofage.Ifheruncle,currentlymanagingtheiraffairsuntilJamescaninherit,isanybarometer,theywon’tgetaspeckof
herfather’sholdings.Justlikehewanted.
It’ssomuchlessthanalmostanyotherladyintheroomcanoffer.AndontopofthatBeth’sshort,clumsy,andunknown.
Still,she’sprettyenough,andMotherthinksshe’sdelightful.
Bethwrinkleshernose,glancingupattheceiling.She’sreallyinapitifulstateifhermotheristheonlyreferenceshe
cangiveforhercharms.Fatherneverthoughtmuchofher,andshebarelygottoknowheruncleonhisbriefvisitsometen
yearsago.She’sneverevenmetCousinJames.
MissWilsonlovesher.Butwhoherewouldcareaboutwhattheirhousekeeperhastosay?
Bethtakesadeepbreathandforcesherselftoslowdown,amblingratherthanchargingacrosstheroom,lookingaroundfor
afriendlyface.Debutantesandyounggentlemenabound,butnoneofthemseemstheleastbitapproachable,andshe’sgetting
appraisinglooksfrommostoftheclustersoffriends.Anoddity,daughterofthelateViscountDemeroven,keptlockedaway
inthecountrywithher…energeticmother.
Bethsearchesforanopening,anyopening,butonlymanagestocatchtheeyeofagrayingoldergentlemanwhogazesbackatherwithdistinctinterest.Bethbreakseyecontact,tryingtosqueezebyagaggleofmothers,knockingintotheirhoopswithmutteredapologies.Shewaslookingforfriends,notamanherlatefather’sage.Amanwhodefinitelyshouldn’tbeseekingoutawifeofjusttwenty,muchlessonelikeBeth,whorarelylooksherage,evenmadeupassheis.
Buttryasshemight,there’snoescape.She’spennedinbythegroupsofunfriendlyguests.Herdamnhoopskirtmakesslinking
awaythoroughlyimpossible.Thegentlemanapproachesherwithwhatsheassumesishismostwinningsmile.
It’sslightlysinister.
“MissDemeroven,isn’tit?”thegentlemansays,holdingouthishand.
Bethhesitatesjustforamoment,reluctanttotouchhim,butproprietywinsout.Shedidn’tspendthelasttwoyearscosseted
awaywithMotherfornothing.
“Yes,”shesays,extendingherhandandclenchingherjawasheraisesittohislipsforanuncomfortablylongkiss.
“I’mLordPsoris,afriendofyourfather’s.Ashamehecouldn’tbehere.Iknowhowproudofyouhewouldbe,”hesays,his
voiceroughandloudasheslowlyreleasesherhand.
Shepullsitbacktoherstomachasquicklyasispolite.Fatherthoughttheentireideaofcomingoutwaswasteful—uneager
tospendhisinvestmentmoneyonherdressesandactivities.He’dplannedtomarryherofftoanoldfriend.Oh,God,isit
possibleLordPsorisisthatfriend?
Fatherwouldn’thaveblinkedaneye.MotherwasBeth’sagewhenhemarriedher,andhewastwentyyears’herseniorthen.
ButLordPsorisiseasilyfortyyearsolderthanBethnow.Andhisleerisanythingbutchivalrous.
“Mycondolences,”hecontinueswhenBethrealizesshehasn’tmanagedtofindwords.
“Thankyou,”sheforcesout,glancingaroundforsalvation,butthere’snonetofind.She’sstuckhere.“Haveyoubeenin
townforthewinter?”
“Ihave,Ihave.Parliamentandsomefestivities,thoughofcoursewealleagerlyawaittheseasongettingunderway.”Beth
nods,takingasmallstepbackasheadvances.“Iwouldbehonoredtohaveyourfirstdance.”
BethbumpsintothegentlemanbehindherasPsorisbearsdownonher.Shesqueaks,stumblingandtryingtokeepherhoopfrom
bellingoutward.Themanbehindherturnsandreachesforherelbow.Horriblyembarrassed,shelooksupatthetall,blond
gentleman,hercheeksonfire.HeglancesfromhertoLordPsoris,frowning.
“Myapologies,”shesaysmeekly.Whatalittletwithemustthinkher.“Feltalittlefaint.”
“Thenwemustabsolutelygetyouadrink.Excuseme,gentlemen,”ayoungwomansays,steppingoutfrombehindtheblondgentleman
asifappearingfromthinair.
ThewomantakesBeth’sarmandeffortlesslymaneuversthemaroundtheblondgentlemanandawayfromtheaffrontedLordPsoris.
They’reyardsawaybeforePsoriscanevensplutter.
“He’sacad,”thewomansays,grinningatBeth,herblueeyessparklingwithmischief.Herhairisjustaswhiteblondas
thetallgentleman’swas,andthere’sasimilarsharpnesstotheirjawsandthebroadnessoftheirshoulders.“Fatherand
Imakeratherasportofsavingyoungdebsfromhisclutches.Hecaughtyouinhissightsimmediately,didn’the?”
Bethwilts,leaningintohersavior.“Entirely.Andtherearesomanypeople,Icouldn’tgetaway.”
“Luckyyoubackedintous.LadyGuinevereBertram.Gwen,”sheadds,squeezingBeth’sarmagainstherside.
“MissDemeroven.Elizabeth—Beth.”
Gwengivesheranimpressedlook.“Theprodigaldaughterreturns.You’llbepopular.”
“I’mnotsureprodigalisreallyappropriate,”Bethsays,shakingherhead.
“Oh,butyoucouldplaythepartwonderfully.You’vegottheskinandthehair—perfectlooksforamysterious,triumphant
seasonentrance.Pastelsuitsyou,butIthinkyou’dbecaptivatinginsomethingred.Therightattitude,somewine,wecould
makeanintrigueofyouyet.Whodoesn’tloveintrigue?”
Bethsimplyblinksupather,allowingthisstrange,spiritedwomantoguideheraroundtheroom.Bethhasnoideawherethey’re
going,orhowthey’renotcausingsomesortofdominocrashastheyploughthroughpeople,butGwendoesn’tseemtoworry.
Shewalkswithherheadheldhigh,smilingandnoddingtopeoplewithaneaseandgraceBethcouldn’tevermatch.
“Here,”Gwensaysastheyfinallyreachtherefreshments.
Bethtakesaglassofsweetwinegratefully.It’scoolandmellow,withjustthelightesttasteofalcohol—thoughfromthe
warmthatthebackofherneck,there’splentyofalcoholinit.Bethtakesanothersip,desperatetorelaxevenalittle.
Herrun-inwithLordPsorishasputheronedge.Isthiswhatit’slike—overbearingmenleaningoveryouwhenyoucan’tget
away?
“Theygetbetter,”Gwensays,pullingBethfromherbleakperusaloftheroom.ShetakesBeth’selbowagainandmoveshertowardtheothersideofthefloor,awayfromwherecouplesseemtobelinkingupforthefirstdance.
BethcanseeLordPsorislookingforheratthefarendandcurlsclosertoGwen,whojustlaughsandnudgesher.“Youcan
alwayssayno,youknow.”
“Andriskinsultingoneofmyfather’soldestfriendsonthefirstnight?”Bethsays,herfingersworryingintoherskirts.
Shewishesshe’dbroughtafannow,justforsomethingtodowithherhands.
“Noonewouldbegrudgeyouwantingtofindsomeoneclosertoyourage.”
“Isuppose,”Bethsays,glancingupatGwen,whonodstotheirleft.
Bethleansaroundherandnoticesatall,ganglyyoungmanstandingaloneandlookingasuncomfortableasshefeels.“Him?”
Bethwrinkleshernose.“He’sverythin,isn’the?Andbroody?”
Gwenpursesherlipstokeepfromlaughing.“Fair.Allright,well,weshouldfindyouagoodfirstdance.Comehere.”
SheleadsBethovertothewallandtogethertheysidlebackuntilthey’rerestingagainstit,outofthefray.Theirskirts
bumptogetherandBethfeelshershouldersstarttocomedown.Shenoticeshermotheracrosstheroom,stillheldinacircle
ofsocietymothersandlookingboredtotears.Motherglancesaroundandtheireyesmeet.BethleansintoGwentoshowshe’s
managedtofindatleastonepersontotalkto,andMothersmiles,givingheralittlenodbeforeturningbacktomoregossip.
“Whatabouthim?”Gwenasks.
Bethfollowshergazetoanenormousyoungmanwithwideshoulders,atleastsixfeettall.SheturnstoGwen,incredulous.
“What?”
“Howwouldthatevenwork?”Bethasks,grinningasGwencackles.
Afewheadsturnandtheybothquietdown,snickeringastheytakesipsoftheirwine.Gwenhasalovelylaughandsucha
bright,openface.Instantlycaptivating,really.Bethissurprisedshe’snotontheflooralready.
“Helooksnice,”Bethsays,gesturingdiscreetlytoatallfellowwithatrimbeardandaprominentchin.
“Gosayhello,”Gwensays.
“Foryou,”Bethcorrects.“Hisheight,yourhair,you’dhavelovelychildren.”Gwensnorts.“What?”
“Well,hismotherthinksI’mamenace,sothatshiphassailed.Andit’sjustaslikelyourchildrenwouldbehairyasanything
andtiny.Hisfather’srathershort,andmylatemotherhadcopiousverydarkhair.”
“Hmm,”Bethoffers,tryingtoparseitall.“You’vemetthen?”
“Twoseasonsagowewentonafewoutings.Itdidn’tendwell,”Gwensays,shrugging.
“Twoseasonsago?”
“Thisismyfourth,”Gwensays,meetinghereyeswithabrashgrinthat’scrackingattheedges.“IthinkifImakeitto
nextseasonwithoutahusband,Igetamedal.”
Bethallowsherselftolaughalong.Fourseasons,shecan’tevenimagine.Andwithoutamothertoo.Howtryingthatmustbe.
“Maybetheyjustgiveyousomelandandletyourunfree.”
“Wouldn’tthatbesomething,”Gwensays.“Bigplotofland,nothingtodobutreadandeat.”
“Draw,”Bethsays.
“Paint.Swim.”
“Oh,doyougetalake,oristhatonlyifyoumakeittosix?”Bethasks.
Gwennudgesherwithherhip—atleast,Bethassumessofromthewayherskirtsmove.“IfImakeittoseven,Ithinkmaybe
Igetmyowncastle.”
“Oh,well,youshouldholdoutforthat,then,”Bethsays.“Queenofyourowncastlesurelybeatsamarriagetohim.”She
gestureswithheremptyglasstowardascrawnyyoungmanwithapatchybeardwho’saskinganequallyawkwardyoungladyto
dance.
“That’sAlbie’syoungerbrother,Bobby.Didn’tthinkhe’dbeoutthisyear,”Gwensayswithafrown.“Shame,he’sanicekid.
Anotherfewyears,he’dprobablybeacatch.”
“Albie?”
“Mr.Mason,mymother’seldernephew.IfIspothim,I’llintroduceyou.Nicechap.Obnoxiousmostofthetime,butagood
lad.”
“LadyGwen!”
Bethturns,followingGwen’sgaze.Ayoungladyinastrikingyellowgownhurriesuptothem,draggingoveranotheryoung
womaninblue.Bothofthemholdemptyglassesofchampagne,theircheekspink.
“We’vebeenlookingforyouforages,”thewomaninyellowsays,apoutonherroundface.ShelooksGwenover.“Youdon’t
havethem!”
“Didn’thavetime,”Gwensayswithanapologeticshrug.Shedoesn’tlookverysorryforwhatever’smissing,Beththinks,though
bothwomenlookratherputout.“ThisistheHonorableElizabethDemeroven.MissDemeroven,thisisLadyMeredithandLady
Annabeth.”
“Apleasure,”Bethsays,dippinginacurtsy.
LadyMeredithandLadyAnnabethcurtsywithpleasantsmilesbeforelookingbackatGwenexpectantly.
“Who’swinning?”Gwenasks.
“Wedon’thavethecards,”LadyMeredithsaysindignantly.
“So?”
ThewomenexchangealookbeforeLadyMeredithgrins.“I’vespottedfiveheirsandtwospares.”
“I’veonlygotthree,butIswearitwouldhavebeenfourifIcouldhaverememberedthegrayskinnyone’sname,”LadyAnnabeth
says.
“Oh,LordFrightan?”
“LordFrightan!”thegirlsexclaim.
“That’sfourformethen.TiedwithEloise.We’reabouttosneakouttothegardensandmeetupwiththegents,doyouwant
tojoinus?”LadyAnnabethasks.
Bethtightenshershoulders,preparingtolosehernewacquaintance.Howcanshepossiblycompetewiththeseglamorousladies?
“I’mgoingtogiveMissDemeroventhelayofthelandtonight,butI’llcatchthenextgame,”Gwensayseasily.LadyMeredith
openshermouth.“It’snorealchallengeifyouhaveallthenamesonthecards,isit?”LadyMeredithandLadyAnnabethfrown.
“Fatheralmostgroundedmelastyear.”
“Onlybecauseyoufollowedhimaroundtogetalltheheirs,”LadyAnnabethsays.
Gwenshrugsplayfully.“Letmeknowwhowins.”
LadyMeredithrollshereyesandLadyAnnabethwinksbeforetheycurtsyandheadforthebackofthehall,presumablyontheir
waytothegardens.
“Youdon’tneedtostay,”Bethsaysperfunctorily,thoughshe’srathersureifGwenabandonshernowshemighthideinthewashroomfortherestofthenight.
“Honestly,ifFathercatchesmeplayingSpot-the-Scionagain,hereallymightconfiscatemypinmoney.”
“Spot-the—”
“Havetohavefunatthesethingssomehow,”Gwensayswithashrug.“Iusuallymakecards,butIcouldn’tbebotheredthis
year.”
“Cards?”
“Topintothebackofthedancecards.Iusuallyputtogetheralist.Firstonetospotthemallgetsbraggingrightsfor
theseason.Alittleawkwardifyouendupdancingwithoneofthescions,butstill,”shesays,eyestwinkling.
Bethconsidershernew,slightlyeccentricfriend.Shehasannualpartygamestoplaywithnumerousfriends.Presumablysome
ofthemmustbemale,ofmarriageableage,andavailable.Andyetheresheis,fourseasonsdeep,andclearlynointerest
inbeingonthefloor.ButsurelyawomanasstunningandcharismaticasGwenmusthaveoptions.
“What?”
“Sorry,”Bethmumbles,lookingaway.Shewasstaring.
“Youcanask,”Gwensaysmoregently.
“Iwasn’t—”Bethstartsbeforeshakingherhead.“So,doyounotwanttogetmarried,orareyoujustreallychoosy?”
Gwenhuffs.“I’mdiscerning.”
“Can’tbeyourlooksthatscarethemaway,”Bethinsists.
Gwenraisesahandtofluffatthedaintycurlshangingdownfromherbraidedbun.“No,it’sallthepersonality.Iblame
myfather.Terriblerolemodel.”
Bethfollowsherlookandspotsthetall,blondman,Gwen’sfather,standingamongagaggleofwivesandmothers,smilingwithcharmandpoise.“Hasheremarried?”Bethasks.
Gwenshakesherhead.“Never.Aperpetualbachelor,withanupstartdaughter.”
“Well,youbothsavedme,soI’llgiveyouagoodreferenceifyouneedone,whateverthat’sworthfromme.Mymotherwould
too.Atleastshehasfriendshere,”Bethsays,noddingacrosstheroom.Mother’sfacadeisslipping.She’sstartingtolist
likeshedoeswhenshe’stired.
“Thankyou,”Gwensays,smilingasBethlooksbackather.“Butit’syouweshouldfocuson.Findyouatolerableyoungman.”
Bethshrugs.“I’djustashappilystayonthesidelinestonight.Getthelayoftheland.”
“Well,inthatcase,Ithinkwe’llneedmorewine,andperhapstheprofiteroles?”
“Oh,absolutely,”Bethsays,chuffedthatGwenwouldratherspendhereveningasawallflowerwithherthanwithherfriends
outside.Gwengrinsandtakesherhand,leadingherbacktowardtherefreshments,thetwoofthemgigglingandchattingas
theballswirlsonaroundthem.
Andthoughshe’stired,andstillabitjittery,pressedagainstthewallsharingprofiterolesandsipsofGwen’sbrandy,
she’salmosthavingfun.Notsucceedingsomuchingarneringdances,butshe’smadeacontact,andthatfeelslikesomething.
Maybeshe’sevenmadeafriend,shethinks,asGwenlaughsinherear,bothofthemflushedandalittletipsy.
“Youshoulddance,”Gwensaysanhourortwolater,whenthey’releaningagainsteachother,sleepy.
“Nextball,”Bethsays.Gwennudgesher.“Ican’tleaveyouherealone.”
Gwenarchesacoolbrow.“ThinkI’dwasteawaywithoutyou?”
Bethnodstowardthebroody,ganglyboy,whoselatestpartnerhasclearlyabandonedhim.“Icouldalwaystellhimyou’dlike
adance,”shesays,startingtoraiseherhandtoflaghimdown.
“Don’tyoudare,”Gwenhisses,grabbingherhand,eyeswide.BethgigglesintriumphandGwenlooksherupanddowninlight
approval.“You’realittlebitevil,aren’tyou?”
“Thankyou,”Bethpreens.
“I’llgetyouback,”Gwensays.
“We’llsee.”
GwenwrapsherhandintothecrookofBeth’sarmwithasmirkandtheyfallintoacontentedsilence,watchingthewhirlof
thecouplesonthefloor.
Afterafewminutes,Gwensighs.“Youshouldatleastdanceone.I’llholdyourwine.”
BethshakesherheadasGwenopenshermouthtoargue.“Youdidn’thavetopresenttoday.”
Gwenshuddersinunderstanding.“God,thewaitingincarriagesistheworst,isn’tit?”
“Ineededtheloobythesecondhour,andthenitwastwomorebeforewegotinside,andfortyminutesbeforeIsawthequeen.
IthoughtImightpeeonthedrawingroomfloor,”Bethadmits.
Gwensnorts.“Agirldidmyyear,actually.Notinthedrawingroom,butonthestairs.Horrid.Nevercameback.”
“Oh,Lord,Ican’tevenimagine,”Bethsays,feelingapitinherstomachjustatthethought.Thatpoorgirl.
“Fathersaysmymotherusedtohavedreamsaboutit.Wouldwakeupinapanicthinkingshewaslate.”
“Understandable,”Bethsays,watchingasthecouplestwirlaroundthefloor.There’snotalotofroomwiththenewlyfashionable
hoops,sothey’remoreswayingthananything.It’spretty.“Yourmotherdidn’tliketheseasoneither?”
“Fathersaysshedidn’t,”Gwensays,shiftingalittle.“Yourmother?”
“Idon’tthinkso,”Bethsays,notingMotherfidgetingaswell.Thismarblefloordoesnothingforthefeet.“Sheandmyfather—I
can’treallyimaginethemcourting.”
“Hewasn’tromantic?”
Bethsnorts.“Hardly.He’dhandhermoneytobuysomethingniceforherbirthday.Sometimeshebroughthomejewelry,butshe
neverlikedmuchofit,”sheadmits,feelingalittleheady.“Isyourfatherromantic?”
“He’ssuave,”Gwensaysafteramoment.“Andutterlycharming.Idon’tknowifhe’sromanticthough.Neverseenhimwantto
be.”
“Hehasn’tcourtedatall?”
GwensucksonhercheekbeforeglancingdownatBeth.“You’llhearabouthisreputationsoonenough,Ithink.”
Bethnodsonceandlooksbackoutatthefloor.Hehasdancedwithafairnumberofthedebutantestonight,buthisfacehas
alwaysbeenaffable,polite,charming.Nothingliketheleershe’snoticedLordPsorisgivingthegirls.Hislookleavesher
feelingslimy.ButGwen’sfathersimplyseemslikeanice,handsomeolderman.
“Butyoulikehim,”Bethsays,notingGwen’sfondlookasherfathertwirlsoneofthesocietymatronsaround.
“Ido,”Gwensays,shrugging.“He’sfun.”
“That’snice,”Bethadmits.Fatherwasanythingbutfun.
Thenumberendsandsuddenlyoldergentlemenstarttoseepoutofthecrowdofonlookers,beckoningtothedebutantes.Beth
feelshereyebrowscrease.Therecan’tbethatmanyunwedolderbachelors.MotherpromisedmenlikeLordPsoriswouldbean
anomaly.
GwenwavestoherfatherandBethstartles.Ofcourse,thefather-daughterdance.
“Areyouokayalonehere?”
BethblinksandlooksuptofindGwenwatchingherwithperhapstoomuchunderstandinginhergaze.“Ofcourse.Go,go,”Beth
saysquickly,takingGwen’sbrandyglassandnudginghertowardthefloor.
Gwenstepsoff,glancingbackatherevenasshereachesthefloor.Almostallthegirlsseemtohavesomeonetodancewith
andBethslumpsagainstthewall,hidingfromthethought.Notthatherfatherwouldhavedeignedtocometonightifhewere
alive.Hewouldhavesaidhernamewasenough;hedidn’tneedtowastehistime.
ShewatchesthecouplesbegintodancetothelivelywaltzandswallowsthelastofGwen’sbrandy.Thewarmthdownherthroat
doeslittletofixtheclenchinherstomach.Shedoesn’tmisshim.Butshe’sstillsad.
Gwenandherfatherchatastheydance,bothofthemgrinning.HekeepsdippingherwithasillysmileandGwenlooksdelighted.
Bethfeelsthatknotmovingfromherstomachtoherchest.Shecan’trememberasingletimeherfatherlookedatherthat
way,ifhebotheredtolookatall.Notthesonhewanted,that’sallsheeverwas.
“Iseeyoulistened.”
Bethjumps,turningtofindMotheratherside,alreadypluckingthebrandyfromherhandandfrowningatBeth’snearlyempty
wineglass.
“I’mfine,”Bethsays.Sheis.Anyremaininggiddinessfromthealcoholhasfaded.NowthatGwen’sgone,allshefeelsis
exhaustedandmelancholy.“Howareyourfriends?”
Mothermaintainsherdisapprovalforamomentbeforesighingandleaningbackintothewallwithher.“Horrid.Yours?”
“She’snice,”Bethsays,noddingtowardthedancefloor.Mothertrackshergazeandthenstiffensjustasthewaltzends.
“Mother?”
Butshe’sdistractedasshenoticesGwendraggingherfathertowardthem.Motherstraightensup,grabbingBeth’swineand
puttingbothglasseshastilyontoasidetablebeforeadjustingherhair.
“Father,thisismynewfriend,MissDemeroven,andthismustbehermother?”
MotherjuststaresatGwen’sfather,who’sstaringrightback,bothofthempale,eyeswide.
“Yes,”Bethstepsin,gentlynudginghermother.“Thisismymother,LadyDemeroven.Apleasuretomeetyouboth.”
“Yes,”Mothersaysslowly,standingtall.“Yes.LordHavenfortandIareacquaintedalready,actually.ThoughI’veyetto
meetyournewfriend.”
“ThisisLadyGwen,”Bethsays,watchingasGwencurtsiestohermother.LordHavenfortisstillstaringlikeagapingfish.
“Weshouldbegettinghome.Lovelytomeetyou,”Mothersays,givingGwenaforcedsmileasshegrabsBeth’sarm.“LordHavenfort,”
sheadds,noddingtotheman.
“LadyDemeroven,”LordHavenfortsays,hisvoicehigh.
MotherdragsBethawayassheandGwenexchangebaffledlooks.“Mother,”Bethprotests,butshejustkeepsmarchingforward.
Bethwouldargueorholdherback,butshe’stoobusytryingtoavoidknockinganyoneover.Motherbullsahead,leadingher
throughthethrongsofavidpartygoers,uncaringofwhoshebumpswithherskirts,draggingBethupandoutoftheballroom.
“Mother,”BethinsistsastheycleartheupperlandingandhustleintothemainfoyeroftheridiculousHalyardestate.“What’s
thematter?”
“Nothing,”Mothersaystersely,noddinginthanksasthestewardsopenthefrontgatesforthem,revealingalineofwaiting
coaches.Theymustbesomeofthefirstpeopletoleave.“We’vecallstomakeinthemorning.”
“Yousaidwe’dhavealie-in,”Bethsays,frowningasMotherhurriesherintothefirsthiredcarriage.“AndI’dhaveliked
moretimewithGwen.”
“I’msureyou’llhaveplentyoftimetosocializewithyournewfriendatthenextevent,thoughyoushouldputmoreeffort
intomeetingsomeoftheyoungmen,thewholereasonwe’rehere,”Mothersaysstifflyasshesettlesintoherseatandthe
coachtakesoff.
Bethjuststaresathermother,utterlybaffled.“Mother,what’s—”
“Ihaveaheadache,darling,please,”Mothersays,closinghereyes,conversationover.
Bethwatcheshermothersitthere,refusingtospeak,headtiltedback,breathingforcefully.She’sneverseenhermother
thiswayoutsideoftheirhome.Irritated,yes.Exhausted,yes,butthis—thisispanic.Whateverhappenedbetweenhermother
andLordHavenfortbeforetonightclearlywasn’tgood.
ChapterTwoGwen
“Areyougoingtoexplainwhathappened?”Gwendemandsasthestewardshutsthedoortotheircarriage.
Fatherlooksoverather,unimpressed,andGwencrossesherarms,temptedtothrowafit.It’sbeentwohourssincehefroze
likeadeercaughtinthecrosshairswhenBeth’smothershowedup.Twohourshemadethemstaytoavoidherquestions.She
hadtodancewithbothAlbieandBobby.Twice.
“Father,”shepresses.
“Justanoldacquaintance,”hesayswithanuninterestedshrug,lookingoutthewindowatabsolutelynothinginthedarkpredawn.
“Whoalmostthrewherselfoutofthepartyatthesightofyou?”
“Shealwayswasabithigh-strung,”hedismisses,feigninginterestinhiscufflinksnext.“Howwasyourevening?”
Gwenrollshereyes.“Asdullasthelastthreeopeningballs.SawMeredithandAnnabethbriefly,butmostofmyfriendsare
marriedinthecountrynow.AndtheonlynewfriendImetisapparentlythespawnofyourarchenemy.”
“LadyDemerovenisn’tmyarchenemy,”hescoffs,glancinguptomeethereyes.“She’s—noone.Herhusbandwasanarsethough.”
“IgotthatfeelingfromBeth.”
“Really?”Fatherasks,surprised.
Gwenshrugs.“Shedidn’tsaymuch,butitsoundslikehewaslacklusteratbest.Howdidyouknowhim?”
“WesatintheLordstogether.Awfulman.Flatulenttoo.”
Gwenwrinkleshernose.It’shardtoimaginetheglamorousLadyDemerovenwithsomeoveraged,gaseousman.She’ssobeautiful,
itbogglesthemind.“Shemusthavehadotheroptions,”Gwensayswithoutthought.
Father’sfacetightens.“Yes,well,let’shopeyoudobetterthisyear,orperhapsyou’llbeLordPsoris’nextvictim.Young
MissDemerovengotawayallright?”
Gwensnorts.“Justfine.She’slovely.Funny.”
“Cordeliahadasharpwit.”Gwenwatchesasheseemstohearhimselfandthenstraightensup.“Well,timeforbed.”
Thecarriagepullstoaroughstopoutsidetheirmanor.“Father—”
Buthe’soutofthecarriageandreachingbackforherbeforeshecanblink,obviouslyeagertoberidofherquestions.The
sun’sstartingtocomeupasitis.Theyneverstaythislate;shecouldhavebeenasleephoursago.Sheisn’tabouttolet
thisgo.
“HowdoyouknowLadyDemeroven?”Gwenasks,followingherfatherupthegrandsteps,holdingherskirtshigherthansheshould
tokeepup.
It’slikehe’sactuallytryingtorunawayfromher.Hethrowsthedooropenandhurriesintothefoyer,onlytoskidtoa
haltatMrs.Gilpe’sunimpressedlook.Gwenslidesinbehindhim,coveringhermouthagainstalaugh.Mrs.Gilpescowlsat
herfather,intimidatinginhertartanrobeandbraidedhair.
“It’snearlyfive,”shesays.
“And?”Fatherreplies,goingfordismissivebutfailingashisfacesplitsinayawn.
“You’reneverhomelaterthantwofromtheseinfernalballs.Wewereworriedsick,”Mrs.Gilpesayssternly.
“Fatherdidn’twanttoriskrunningbackintoLadyDemeroven,”Gwensays,diligentlynotingMrs.Gilpe’sslightreactionto
thename.Shemustknowmore.
“I’mgoingtobed,”Fathersays,shakinghisheadasGwenopenshermouth.“Andsoshouldyou.We’vepromenadingtodofar
toosoon.”
“No,we’renotactuallygoingtopromenade,arewe?Can’twejustlingerintheparlor?It’ssomuchlessworkforthesame
result.”
“IfIhadtobeupallnightandthenpreparealuncheon,theleastyoucandoiswalkaroundthepark,”Mrs.Gilpeputsin.
“See,”Fathersays.“Can’tgodisappointingMrs.Gilpe.”Hesalutesthemandthentakesoffforthestairs.
“Youhatepromenading!”Gwencallsafterhim.Fatherjustshrugsdramaticallyandthendisappearsaroundthecornerofthe
landing,leavingherprotesthangingintheair.
“Comealong,youcanharasshimlatertoday,”Mrs.Gilpesays,reachingouttotakeGwen’sarmandguideherupthestairs
afterhim.
“DoyouknowwhoLadyDemerovenis?”
“WifeofLordDemeroven,I’dimagine,”Mrs.Gilpesaysflatly.
“Really.ToFather.Healmostfelloverwhenhesawherandshecouldn’tgetawayfastenough.Shepracticallydraggedher
daughter,Beth,outoftheroom.”
Mrs.Gilpepursesherlips.Theyclearthelandingtothesecondfloorandheaddownthehall.Father’sdoorisalreadyfirmlyshut.Gwengoestoprod,butMrs.StelmleansoutofGwen’sroom.
“Didn’tdieinacarriagecrashthen,”Mrs.Stelmsaysgamely,grinningbeneathherbonnetcap,afewofherribbonshalf
fallenoutandframingherface.
“Youweren’treallyworried,wereyou?”GwenasksasMrs.Gilpeushersherintoherroomandthetwoofthemgethersituated
tobeginreleasingherfromthemonstrositythatisherdress.
“Notreally,”Mrs.Stelmassuresher.“ThoughMrs.Gilpewas…concerned.”
“Foryou,”Mrs.Gilpeputsin,passingbehindMrs.StelmwithanudgetoherwaisttobeginunlacingGwen’sskirt.“Yourfather
canstayoutallnightifhelikes.Youstillhavesomehonortoprotect.”
“Some?”Gwenexclaims.Mrs.StelmslapsMrs.Gilpe’sarm.
“Aslongasyourfatherwasineyesight,itdoesn’tmuchmatter,”Mrs.Gilpesays.
“Barelyletmeoutofitforthesecondhalfoftheevening,”GwengrumblesasMrs.Gilpefinishesundoingherbuttons.“It
waslikehethoughtifIturnedawayLadyDemerovenwouldsomehowappearagain.”
“LadyDemeroven?”Mrs.Stelmrepeats.Theybrieflydisappearwhentheyliftherskirtoverherhead.“Theyspoke?”
Gwenglancesbetweenherhousekeeperandlady’smaidastheyexchangeaseriesofnarrowedeyesandeyebrowraises.“Whois
thiswoman,whatdidshedo?”
“Noone,”Mrs.Gilpesaysfirmly.
Mrs.Stelmrollshereyes,layingoutGwen’sskirtandbodicetoairovernight.
“But—”Gwensays,lookingtoMrs.Stelm.
Mrs.StelmjustshrugsandturnsbacktoundoingclaspsofhercorsetwhileMrs.Gilpeundoesthehoopcageandlowersit
totheground.
“Anoldacquaintance,I’msurehewasjustsurprised.”
“Hewasmorethansurprised,itwaslike—”
“Timeforbed,”Mrs.GilpeinsistsasshedeftlypullsthepinsfromGwen’shair.“Youneedtolookatleastsomewhatrested
forthisafternoon.You’renotsixteenanymore.”
GwengapesandMrs.Stelmscoffs.“Mrs.Gilpe,really.”
“Bed,”Mrs.Gilpesaysfirmly,pushingGwentowardheralreadyturned-downsheets.“Goodnight.”
“It’smorning,”Gwenprotests,watchingMrs.GilpetakeMrs.Stelm’sarmandpracticallydragheroutoftheroom.
“Sleep,”Mrs.Gilpesayssternly,beforeshufflingMrs.Stelmoutintothehall.
Thedoorshuts,andGwenstandsstaringoutatherslightlydisheveledroomcompletelynonplussed.
***
GwentwistsherhandstogetherassheandFathertrodalongthewalkingpathbesidetheLongWater.Thecloudshaven’tlifted
andtheparkisawashinadullgray-huedlightthatdoesnothingforeitheroftheirmoods.Shebarelyslept,andFather
doesn’tlookmuchbetter.
Allherplansofsubtlydivininginformationoutofhimseemtofallflatagainsthislistlessmood.Shestaresaroundattheotherfamiliessetupalongthepath,withtheiroverlargeteasetsandtarps,thegirlsinbrightcolors,mothersequallydoneup.Shefeelsabitshabbybycomparisoninherdarknavydressandcape—butit’scold.
Shecanseeoneoftheyoungergirlsshivering.Shelooksbackpleadingly,buthermotherforceshertostandattheedge
oftheirwiltingpicnicblankettosmileattheyoungmen,whoaremoreinterestedinthescullsonthelakethanthegirls
alongthepath.
“Weshouldhavestayedhome,”Fathermutters,takingherarmandleaningintoheragainstagaleofwindthatwhipsthrough
thepark.
“Agreed,”Gwensays,tugginghimcloserastheycontinuetostroll.“Wecouldplaychess?”
Fathersmiles,nudgingher.“You’reon.Continueourwager?”
“Obviously,”Gwensayswithagrin.Oneoftheladstossingaballonthelawnmissesandgoestumblingintothegrass.Gwen
smothersalaugh.
Fatherhasnosuchcompunctionandguffawsloudly,ignoringthescowlsfromthematriarchsonbenchesalongtheriver.He
shrugsatthem,hischarminggrinthawingtheirdisdain.SomehowwhenGwengivesthatgrinwhenshe’sintroubleitnever
comesoffwell.ButFathercouldsmilehiswayoutofanexecutionifhewanted.
“Shallwetaketheforkandwalkyoupastthepitch?”hesuggestsastheycomeuponCarriageDrive,presentingthemwith
thechoicetostayalongthelakeorcrosstheparktowendtowardtheoppositeboulevard.
Gwenhesitates.Shedoesenjoywatchingagameofcricket,andthere’sboundtobeatleastoneonthepitches.Butthenshe
spotsBethandLadyDemerovenstandingbythebridge.Amuchmoreengagingpastime,tobesure.
Shebeginsleadingherfatherintheirdirectionwithoutcomment.Hedoesn’tseemtoseethem,andGwenholdsherbreath,hopingshecangetwithinshoutingdistancetograbBeth.
SurelyhermotherwouldwantBethtopromenade.Twoyoungladiesattractmoreattentiontogetherthanseparatelywiththeir
chaperonesafterall.Everyoneknowsthat.
AndthatwillleaveFatherwithnothingtodobuttalktothemysteriousLadyDemeroven.
Bethspotsherfirstandturnstowave.GwenfeelsFatherstiffenandautomaticallyjerktotheside,asifhereallydoes
wanttoturntailandrunaway.Butthey’refartoocloseforthattobepropernow,andGwenwithholdshergrin.Bethdrags
hermotherover,bothofthemphysicallyhaulingtheirrespectiveparentstogetheruntilthey’reallstandingtotheside
ofthewalkingpath.
BethandLadyDemerovenlookwonderful,brightspotsofpastelagainstthedrearyday.Beth’slightbluegownisfetching,
highlightingherdarkswept-uphair,whileLadyDemeroven’slavenderdressisappropriatebutcheerfulallthesame.Beth
grinsatGwen,whileLadyDemerovenlooksabitlikeshe’sswallowedpoison
“Youbothlooklovely,”Gwensaysquickly.Herfatherseemstostallnowthatthey’rewithinspeakingdistance.Helookslike
he’sbeenstruckinthestomach,actually.
“Mother,couldIpromenadewithLadyGwen?”Bethasks,turningherbrightsmileonhermother.“I’msureLordHavenfortwould
keepyoucompany.”
Theadultsexchangesomething…closetoalook.Gwen’srathersuretheireyesnevermeet.ShecanseeLadyDemeroven
searchingforarebuttalwhileFathersplutters.
“MissDemerovenandIcouldgowalkbythepitch,pickafewladstocheerfor—starttheseasonoffaspositiveinfluencesonthem?”
FathershootsGwenalook.She’sneveroncecheeredforagentlemaninagame.JeeredwithFather,tauntedAlbie,butnever
offeredtheslightestencouragement.ButBethshouldgiveitatry.
“Please,”Bethcajoles.
“Yes,fine,go,”LadyDemerovensayswithasigh,releasingBeth.
Gwengrinsandsnagsherarm,hurryingthemafewstepsawaytowalkaheadoftheirparents.Bethsqueezesherarmandthey
setoffataslowamble.Theirparentstorturedthemlastnight;it’stimeforpayback.
“Howwastherestofyourevening?”Bethasks.
“Boring.Fatherforcedmeintoafewdances,buttheystoppedservingfoodanditgothot.”
“Anynicegentlemen?”Bethasks,hervoicefullofinnocence.Shedoesn’tknowwhatshe’sinforthisseason,evenwiththe
slightlyignominiousintroductionshegotlastnight.
“Ofcoursenot,”Gwensays,laughingasBethgivesherashockedlook.“Remember,Ihaveexactingstandards.”
“Apparently,”Bethsays,butthere’snomaliceinherwords.
“Pickingahusbandisseriousbusiness.Hardtogettoknowsomeoneinallthatcommotionanyway,”Gwensays,turningtolook
atBethsoshecanglancebackattheirparents.
They’realmostameterapart,notlookingateachother.Father’swalkingstifflyanditlookslikeLadyDemerovenmaypermanently
damageherleathergloveswiththewayherhandsareclenched.
“Didyourmothersayanythinglastnight?Lookatthem.”
Bethglancesbackintheguiseoffixingherskirts.“Ohdear,Motherlookslikeshe’sabouttobreakherteeth.”
“Shedidn’ttellyouanything?”
“Nothing,”Bethsays,shakingherheadastheyturntowardthepitch.“Barelyspokeatallthismorningtoo.Didyourfather
sayanything?”
“Onlythatshewasanoldacquaintance.Hetriedtopretendofnoimportance,butclearlysomethinghappened.”
Bethworriesherlip,herarmstillsnuginGwen’s.It’shelpingwiththechilloftheair,andGwenfindstheirheightdifference
rathercharming.Bethfitsagainsthernicely.
“Didyourfatherandminespendmuchtimetogether?Hehadafairfewenemies.MaybeheranafoulofLordHavenfort.”
Gwenglancesbackatherfathertomakesurehe’soutofearshot.He’sglaringsoforcefullyatthegrassheprobablywouldn’t
noticeanyway.Noneedtoscrutinizeherwhenshe’sawayfrommalecompany.Notthathetriesthathardotherwisereally.
He’srarelyhadtheneed.
“Hesaidtheydidn’tgetalong,butthat’snotunusualwithFather.Hetendstorubpeoplethewrongway.”
“Heseemslovely,”Bethsayssoftly.“Andyoutwogetalong.”
“Wedo,”Gwenagrees,notinghernewfriend’sdowncastface.“I’msureyoucouldjoinuswhenwegoridinglaterthisweek.
He’salwayshappytohavemyfriendscometovisit.Youcouldevenstayoverifyoulike.Seeifyou’rereallythewhistplayer
yousayyouare.”
Bethglancesatherwithnarrowedeyes.“Youdoubtme?”
“Ijustthinkyouhaven’tmetyourmatchyet.”
Bethlaughs.“Ilookforwardtoprovingyouwrong.”
“Thisweekend?”Gwensuggests,alreadyplanningouttreatstomakewithMrs.Stelm,soshecantrounceBethandstuffherfaceallatonce.
“I’dlikethat,”Bethsays,smilingupatherbeforeglancingbackattheirparents.“ThoughIdon’tknowthatMotherwould
letmespendthenightsoearlyintheseason.She’ssurewe’reabouttobefloodedwithvisitorsandwantsmeavailablefirst
thinginthemorningsfromnowon,”Bethsays,lookingdistinctlyuncomfortableatthethought.
“Anothertimethen,”Gwensayseasily.Bethnods,hersmileslipping.“AndI’msureshe’sright.Abeautifulgirllikeyou
issuretobeoverwhelmedwithsuitorsoncetheygettheirheadsstraight,”sheadds,smilingasBethblushes.“Infact,who
knows,youmightfindasuitortoday.Run,boys,run!”Gwencallsoutastheyreachtheedgeofthepitch.
Shehearsherfathersnortbehindthembutpayshimnomind.Shedoesn’twanttoseeLadyDemeroven’sreaction,evenifBeth
isgigglingagain,herfacestillaprettyshadeofpink.
Agaggleoftheton’smosteligibleyoungmenwrestleovertheballonthemuddyfield,alreadydeepintoagameofrugby.
Itleavesthemsweaty,dirty,andhigh-spiritedeverytime,andBethandGwenaren’ttheonlygirlswatching.Huddlesofpastel-
andbrightlycladdebutantesstandaroundthefield,wavinghandkerchiefsandgivingmodestencouragement.Gwencanalready
seetheirmothersglaringather.
She’salwaysbeendisruptive,buthonestly,theboysseemtoenjoyit.
“Goon,Mason,giveitatry!”shecalls,smirkingasAlbieglaresoverather.He’ssweatinglikeapigandcoveredinmore
mudthananyoneelse.
“Don’tbemean,”Bethsays,nudgingher.“He’stryingveryhard.”
Gwenlaughs.“Don’tworryaboutAlbie.It’smyprerogativeascousin—hedoesn’thavesisters.Theonenexttohimthough,
LordBrightly,he’ssingle,firstinlinetoinherit,andnotwhollyirritating.Andhe’slookingyourway.”
Bethstiffensnexttoher,herplayfulblushfallingoffherfaceashersmiledisappears.
“Notyourtype?”Gwenasks,glancingovertheotherassembledgentlemen.“Toostocky?”Bethjustremainsstillnexttoher.
“Tootall?”Bethshakesherhead.“Too—”
“It’shiseyes,”Bethsaysquietly.
Gwenfeelsherselffrown.“Hiseyes?”
“They’recold.”
GwenlooksoveratBeth,butthewomandoesn’tmeethergaze,simplystaringacrossthepitchattheothergirlsalongthe
farside,allsimperingandsweet.
“Menwitheyeslikethatarecruel,”Bethexplains.
Chilledbyhersoft-spokenwisdom,GwenpullshercloserandBethrelaxes.Gwentriestoshakeoffthepallandglancesback,
hidinghersmirkasshespotstheirparentsstandingtwometersapartnow,watchingthegamewithdisinterest.
She’sabouttosaythatitseemstheirparentsaremortalenemieswhenshenoticesherfatherisn’tactuallyfollowingthe
game.He’slookingtowardit,buteveryfewsecondshiseyescutsidewaystowatchLadyDemeroven.AndLadyDemeroven’sface
isnotthestoicpalemaskshethoughtitwas.
“Idon’tthinkthishasanythingtodowithyourfather,”Gwensays.
Bethstartles.“What?”
“Lookatthem.”GwenanglesherselftowardBethsoshecanturnherheadandconsidertheirparents.Herperfumeislovely.“Somethinghappenedbetweenthetwoofthem.I’msureofit.”
“Mymother’sblushing,”Bethsays,shocked.ShelooksbackatGwen.“I’veneverseenherblushlikethat.”
Gwengrinsandtogethertheylookbackatthegame,justasAlbietakesawhappinghittotheback.Hegoessprawlingface-first
intothemudandGwenwithholdshercackle.Bethcovershermouth,concerned.
“Isheallright?”
“He’llbefine.Getup,Mason!Show’emwhatfor!”
“Gwen!”BethexclaimsasAlbieglowersoveratthem,hisfacedrippingmud.
FatherchucklesbehindthemandshecanseeBobby,equallycoveredinmud,grinningathisbrother’splight.
Gwenjustshrugs,givingBobbyathumbs-upbeforelookingbackatBeth.“Someonehastocheerforthepoorthing.”Bethfrowns
ather,butthecornerofhermouthistiltedup.“Ilikerootingfortheunderdog.”
“You’renotrooting,you’reheckling.”
“Perhaps,”Gwenagrees,glancingbackattheirparents.LadyDemeroven’slostherblush,butFather’slookingalittlepleased.
“ButIdolikerootingforthedarkhorse,andIthinkmyfatherisyourmother’sdarkhorse.”
Bethlooksoverather.“What?”
“IthinkmaybeFatherisabitsweetonher.”
“Shecouldn’thavepulledmeoutoftheballfastenough,”Bethargues,glancingback.“She’stwirlingherhair!”
“So?”Gwenwonders,lookingoverhershoulderagaintoseethatthestalwartladyisindeedtoyingwithherhair.
“Sheneverdoesthat.”
“See?”
“Idon’tthinkthatmeanstheyweresweetoneachother,”Bethsaysslowly.
“He’ssweetonher.She’sstillanunknown,”Gwencorrects.“ButIbetwecanfigureitout.”Bethhesitatesasshewatches
anotherviolenttackle.“Please?Ineedsomethingtolivenupthisseason.Theballsandpartiesgetboringotherwise.”
“Andthisismoreinteresting?”
“Figuringoutwhytheyactasthoughtheyhateeachotherbutlooklikesmittenschoolchildren?Ofcourse!It’samystery.
Iloveagoodmystery.Promiseyou’llatleasttryandfindout?”
Bethshifts,bitingatherlip,unsure.
“It’llbefun,”Gwenneedles,thinkingsolvingamysterywithBethmightbetheperfectremedyforthedrudgeryoftheseason.
Bethsnorts.“Fine.Itcouldn’thurttotalkaboutsomethingotherthanhoopcircumferenceoverbreakfast,”shesays.
“Excellent,”Gwensays,jostlingherarmjustasAlbietumblesbacktotheground.“Getup,Mason!Getup!”
Bethlaughsandcovershermouthwithherhand.Albiejustrollshiseyesandstumblesup,lumberingbacktowardthescrum.
“See?Fun,”Gweninsists,winkingatBeth.
Bethcan’tseemtohelpherselfandgrinsback,hereyesalight.“Fun,”sheagrees.ChapterThreeBeth
“Ilookabouttwelve,”Bethsays.
Motheradjuststhelightpinksatinandlacegownoverherpaddedandprimpedunderlayers.“Pastelsarealltheragethis
season.”
Bethgrimacesandshifts,frowningatherround,rougedcheeks.Mothercanswearallshelikes,butBethwouldmuchrather
lookherage.WhileyouthmightappealtomenlikeLordPsoris,she’sproudofbeingtwenty,notashamed.Gwen’stwenty-one
andshelooksjustasdesirableasshemusthaveateighteen.
“Iwantyoutodancemorethisevening,”MothersaysasshecirclesBeth,reachingouthereandtheretoadjust.“Weshould
havehadatleastafewcallersbynow.”
“It’sonlybeenaweek,”Bethprotests,notlikingthetightnessofhermother’sjaw.
They’veattendedeightteasandgardenparties,promenadedeveryday,madeunendingmorningcalls,andbeenguestsatfour
dinners.Itisn’tasiftheyaren’ttrying.
“Ihadatleastfivecallersmyfirstweekinmyseason,”Mothersaysassheadjuststhediamondnecklaceshe’sforcedBeth
toweartonight.
“Gwenhasn’thadanyeither,”Bethargues.
Mothersnorts.“I’mnotsurprised.”
“Mother,”Bethscolds,glaring.
“Yourfriendisalovelyyoungwoman,butshe’sgotamouthonherandherreputationamongthemothersisabysmal.Shegot
inashoutingmatchwiththatGentrygirl.”
“MissGentrywasmakingfunofGwenfornothavingamothertoteachherpropermanners.Gwenshouldhavepunchedher.”
Motherfrowns.Bethhasn’tseenGwensincetheJelisonteapartyonThursday.AndeventhoughGwenshookitoff,sheknows
MissGentrymusthavehurtherfeelings.Howutterlycallous.It’snotasifit’sGwen’sfaultshehasnomaternalinfluence.
Andshe’sheapsmoreintelligent,witty,andcharmingthantheothergirlswiththeirpropermothersanyway.
“You’redeterminedtodislikeGwen,”BethsaysasMothercontinuestofrown
“I’mnot,”Mothersays.Bethnarrowshereyesather.“I’mnot.She’saniceyounglady,andIdon’tmindyoubeingfriends
withher,butIwon’thaveyoulookingatherasanexampleofhowtobehaveintheseason.She’sbeenoutforfouryears.”
“Iknow,”Bethsays,herangermeltinginthefaceofMother’sconcern.“ButIdolikeher.”
“That’sfine,”Mothersays,takingadeepbreath.“Justdon’tspendallnightwithher,allright?”
Bethbobsherhead.Shehadn’treallybeenplanningonit…justallthetimenotspentdancing.Butthere’snoreason
Motherneedstoknowthat.Instead,sheshouldbeleveragingthismomentofdétente.Theycomealongsoinfrequently.
“Youdon’tdislikeGwenjustbecauseofherfather,doyou?”
Motherblinks.“What?No.”
“BecauseIknowyoudon’tthinkhighlyofhim,”Bethcontinues,watchingasMothersighs.
“Iwishhe’dbeenabetterexampletoyourfriend,certainly,”shesaysslowly.“ButIdon’tblameher.Youdon’tgettopick
yourfather,”sheadds,meetingBeth’seyes.
Bethnods,refrainingfrommentioningthatMotherdidpickherfather,andpickedpoorly.“Still,she’saccomplishedandkind.
ThatmustsaysomethingtoLordHavenfort’scredit,right?AsMissGentrysaid,it’snotlikeshehasamotheraround.”
MotherpursesherlipsandBethwaitsherout,turningtohermirrortodoalastcheckofherface.Shelooksridiculous.
“Perhapsshe’sinheritedsomeofLordHavenfort’sintelligence,butsurelyyoucanunderstandthathavingamanlikethat
forafatherdoesn’tgiveheragoodexampleofhowtobehaveinsociety.He’shardlyaparagonofpropriety.”
“He’sverynice!”Bethargues.
“Niceandrespectableareseparatethings.”
“HesitsintheHouseofLords,”Bethsays.
“TheHouseofLordshardlycareshowmanywomenamanhasbedded.”
“It’snotlikehe’sencouragingGwentodothat.Gwen’shonorisverysafe.”
“I’msureitis,”Mothersays,holdingupherhands.“I’msimplysayinghe’snoexampleofproperetiquette.”
“Howdoyouknow?”Bethinsists.
Motherrollshereyes.“I’veknownLordHavenfortforalongtime.Hisreputationprecedeshim.”
“Andyouthinkhewaslikethatwhenhewaspresented?”
Mothershakesherhead.“Hewas…charming.Andclearlythatcharmhasgottenhimratherfar.”
“Soyouknewhimwhenyouwereinthemarket?”Bethpresses.
Mothernarrowshereyes.“Wemetinmyseason.Hemarriedhiswifeattheendofhissecond,asfarasIknow.Andsinceher
deathhe’sgottentoknowhalfofLondon’swomenbiblically.Thatcharmremainsintact.Now,canwedropthis?”
Bethsighs,tuckingtheinformationaway,likelyasmuchasshe’llgethermothertoadmittonight.Reluctantly,shespins
forlastlooks.
“Idoubthe’sreallybeddedhalfofLondon,”shesaysinlacklusterdefense.“It’snotasifhecouldfallinlovewiththat
manywomen.”
Mothersmiles,laughingalittleasshereachesouttofixalockofBeth’shair.“Iadorethatyouthinkthat,”shesays
gently.“AndIadoreyou.Iwantyoutohavefuntonight.Justrememberwhywe’rehere,allright?”Bethopenshermouthto
defendherfriend.“Allright?”
“Yes,”Bethsays,shoulderssagging.“Allright.”
***
Thisballis,absurdly,largereventhanthelast.TheKleistedballroomcouldeasilyfitmostoftheirLondontownhouseinside
itscavernousthree-storyhall.Garlandsofeverytypeofflowerimaginablelinethewalls,andBethfindstheentireeffect
dizzyingasshetriestotakeitallin.
It’salreadyverywarm,andthepressofbodiesfeelsclosedespitetheearlyhour.Shefeelsevenmoreridiculousinherpinkskirtsandgirlishmakeupnow.Motherwasn’twrong—manyofthedebslooksoftertonight—butgivenhowanxiousherstomachfeelsinthefaceofallthesepeople,she’dratherlookherageandbeabletoglarethemalldown.
Noamountoffrowningcandampenthegirlishcharmpancakedontoherfacetonight.
“Ishouldbeginschedulingourvisitsfornextweek,”Mothersays.
Bethsighs,glancingoveratthesocietymothers.Alwayssomeoneelsetotalkto,someoneelse’sfeelingstosettle.
“You’rebeautiful,andsmart,andanyofthemwouldbeluckytohaveyou,”Mothersays,squeezingherarm.
That’stheproblem,Beththinks,evenassheletsMothergowithafalsesmile.Anyofthemmightfeelluckytohaveher.
Butshedoubtsshe’llfeelasluckyinreturntobehad.
Bethstandsattheedgeoftheroom,herchesttightandbreathingshallow.Butshecandothis.She’snotabouttoleta
lotofflowersandpeoplecowerher.
Shestartstowalkthroughthegatheredcrowd,keepingawideeyeforLordPsoris,determinedonlytointeractwithyoung
mensheatleastfindspalatablethisevening,ifnothingelse,whensomeonegrabsherarm.
Sheturns,startled,andthenrelaxesasGwengrinsdownather.“You’refinallyhere!”Gwensaysexcitedly.
Bethnods,asmilestretchingacrossherfaceinresponse.
Gwensqueezesherarm.“Food?”
“You’reagodsend,”Bethsayshonestly.
Gwenlaughsandtugsheracrosstheroom.Bethnoticesthelooksthey’regettingnow—thewaymothersslightlysneerintheir
direction.Perhapshermotherwasn’ttotallywrong.ItdoesseemGwenhasareputation.
ButwhentheyreachtherefreshmentsandGwenpassesheraglassofwineandasmallquichebite,Bethrealizesherchestisnolongerpulsingwithanxiety.Ithardlyseemsworththeupsettoletgoofherfriendsimplytoappeaseafewmothers.
“Somehouse,huh?”Gwenasks,leadingBethovertowardalesspopulatedplacealongtheentrywaywall.
“It’samazing,”Bethsays,relaxingfullywhenherhoopbrushesthewall,trulyoutofthefray.“Haveyoubeenherebefore?”
“Theythrowafewballsaseason,”Gwensays.“HaveyoubeeninvitedtotheYokelyballyet?Theyhavethemostamazinggardens,
whichistheonlydownsidetothisone.”
“Idon’tthinkwehave,”Bethsays,tryingtorecallthelaundrylistofeventsMotherhasmentionedthey’llattend.“Have
ImettheYokelys?”
“TheywereattheJelisons’teaparty,”Gwensays,notalickofafrownonherfaceatthemention.“LordYokelyisaportly
manandhiswifehasaverypinchedface.”
“Oh!AndthedaughterisLadyCaroline?”
“Yes.Theonewiththenasalvoice,”Gwensayswithalittlegrin.
“Shewasnice,”Bethsays,laughingasGwenrollshereyes.“Shewas.”
“She’sfine.ProbablygoingtomarrytheJacklandheir.”
“Really?”
“They’vealreadybeenontwooutings,justthisweek,”Gwensays,shruggingasBethgapesather.“Somegirlsgetlucky.”
Bethbitesatherlip.She’snothadevenonecaller,andLadyCarolineisalreadycourting?
“There’snocompetingwiththeYokelyfortune.I’msureherdowryisimmense,”Gwensays,andBethmeetshereyes,tryingtoforceherworryoffherface.
“Right,”shesays,takingasipofherwinetocalmdown.
“Don’tworry.Theyjusthaven’thadtimetoseehowwonderfulyouareyet.”
Bethblushesandtakesanothersip,tryingtotakeGwen’swordstoheart.Shedoesn’twanttoseemconcernedaboutthis,not
withGwen,whocertainlyhasn’tdancedwithorbeenapproachedbyanyoneotherthanhercousinsallweek,andthatwasjust
sotheycouldsnipeateachotherforsport.
“It’sfine,I’mnot—”
“Oh,here’sonenow.Damn,it’sFreddieHighsmith,whatahawbuck.”
Bethswallowshardasatall,handsomeyoungmanwithastrongjawandthickbrowneyebrowsheadsintheirdirection.Gwen
slumpsbesideher,butBethnoticesMotheracrosstheroomgrinning.Beththinkshe’sthesonofanearl,ifshe’sremembering
correctly.
“Goodevening,ladies,”hesays,hisvoicelowandsmooth.“Goodtoseeyouagain,LadyGwen.”
“Youtoo,”Gwensays,dippinginahalf-heartedcurtsy.
Bethignoresherandgivestheyoungmanaformalcurtsyofherown.
“Andwhoisyourfriend?”
“ThisistheHonorableElizabethDemeroven,”Gwensays,hervoicemuchcolderthanitwasafewminutesago.“MissDemeroven,
thisisLordClyson.”
“DaughterofthelateViscountDemeroven,Ipresume?Myfatherwasverysadtohearofhispassing.Apleasuretomeetyou,”LordClysonsays,takingBeth’shandtogiveitanexaggeratedkiss.
“Apleasuretomeetyouaswell,”BethsaysevenasGwensighsinherperiphery.
“IwonderedifImighthavethehonorofyourfirstdance,”LordClysonsays,smilingather.Hisfaceispleasantenough
tolookat,andmaybeonlyafewyearsolderthanherown.
“Wewereactuallyjust—”
“I’dbedelighted,”Bethsays,cuttingGwenoff.
“Wonderful,”LordClysonsays,pluckingthedrinkfromherhandtogiveittoGwen,whotakesitwithafrown.
That’sabitrude,ofbothofthem,BeththinksassheoffersGwenaweaksmile.SheletsLordClysontakeherarmtolead
hertothefloor.Theyjointheclusterofothercouplessettingupfortheopeningwaltz.
Bethfightsheranxietyastheysquareoff,listeningtothesoundsofconversationaroundthemandthelastwarmingtones
fromthesmallorchestrasettledonalargemusicians’balcony.Tohavethemoneyforarchitecturepurelyformusic—
“HowareyouenjoyingLondon?”LordClysonasksaftertheybowandcurtsy.
Hisrighthandcomestorestonherwaistandhisleftfingerscurlaroundherown.Bethfightstheurgetofidget.Ittakes
heramomenttogetherwordstoworkandkeepherfeetmovingatthesametime.
“It’slovely,”Bethlies.She’dmuchratherbeasleepinherbedinthecountryrightnow.Butthenshesupposesshe’dstill
bealone,andwouldn’thavemetGwen.
Gwen,who’sfrowningatthemastheydance.
“Itissuchatreattobehereeachyear.Igeteversoboredatourcountryestate,youknow?ThoughIamexcitedfortheopenseason.”
“Youliketohunt?”Bethasks,tryingtofocusonwhathehastosay.Hisisaprettyenoughface,butthatcan’tbeall.
They’dneedtoconnectonanintellectuallevelforittobeapotentialmatch.
“I’manexcellentshot,”hesays.
“Pistolsorbowandarrow?”She’sarathergoodshotwithabowherself.Sheusedtowincompetitionswhenshewasalittle
girl.
“Pistols,ofcourse.Bowandarrow?Bitarchaic,don’tyouthink?”
Bethforcesherselftomovepastit.“Whatelsedoyouliketodointhecountry?Imissriding.Thetrailsbyourlandsare
marvelous.”
LordClysongivesherwhatsheassumesisanindulgentlook.“Iprefertobetonhorsesratherthanridethemthroughleisurely
woodlandtrails,thoughridingisalovelywaytocourt.”
Bethwouldshyawayifshecould.Hislookhasturnedabitpredatory,andallhe’smanagedtodothusfarisinsultherinterests.
Hecouldstillgrowonher,shesupposes.Shelikeshorseracingwellenough.She’shopingsheandGwencanconvincetheir
parentstopicnictogetheratAscot.
“Andwhatdoyouliketodo,otherthangoforyourrides?”LordClysonasks,andthere’sjustsomethingtohowhesaysyourridesthatmakesBeththinkhe’stryingtotoywithher.
“Iread,andIenjoyneedlepointifIcansitoutside.Theweatherhereisratherdreary.”
“It’llgetbetterastheseasonprogresses.Iunderstandthisisyourfirst?”
“Itis,”Bethsays,glancingbacktowardGwen,who’spracticallygloweringnow.“It’sbeenanadjustment.”
“Iseeyourfriendiswatchingoutforyou.She’scertainlygottheexperience,”LordClysonsays,followinghergaze.
“She’slovely,”Bethsaysfirmly.Shemaytakethatkindoftalkfromhermother,butshewon’tstandforthismantoslander
herfriend.
“Yes.Shehasherfather’slooks.”
Bethfrowns,notsureifhemeansitasacompliment.Eitherway,itringshollowandcallous.“She’sequallycharming.”
“Anddoesthatkindofcharmworkonyou?”LordClysonasks,hishandtighteningonherwaist.“I’dlovetotakeyoufora
walkinthegardenslater.They’resmall,butratherovergrown.”
HisgriponherwaistandhandispainfulnowandBethalmostsagsinreliefwhenthewaltzcomestoanend.“No,thankyou,”
shesaysaspolitelyasshecanmanage.“I’dratherstayinside,andI’mthirsty,ifyou’llexcuseme,”shesays,tryingto
pullaway.
LordClysonresistsforasecondbeforelettinggoofherwithashakeofhishead.“Figures.Don’tknowwhyIthoughtone
ofLadyGwen’sfriendswouldbeanicegirl.”
Bethholdsupherchin.“Don’tknowwhyIthoughtaviscountmighthavemoremanners.”
Sheturns,shockedbyherownpoise,andwalkscalmlyoffthefloor,leavingtheloutstandingtherealone.
ShereturnstoGwenandtakesbackherwineglass,fightingagainstlettinganyofherdiscomfortshow.Whataconceited,possessive,
snivelinglittleman.
“Arse?”
“Arse,”Bethagrees,takingalargeswallowofherwine.
“Itriedtowarnyou,”Gwensaysmildly.
Bethsighsandglancesupather.“Youdid.Thankyou.Ijustthought—”
“Igetit,”Gwensays,wavingheroff.“We’llfindyouagoodhusband.”
Bethtakesanotherswallow,lettingthewinewarmawayherdiscomfort.“Don’tbother.Ifthey’realllikehim,I’mnotinterested.”
“They’renotalllikeClyson.”
“Thenwhyaren’tyououtthere,dancingwiththem?”Bethasks,surprisedbythebiteinhervoice.It’sjustthatshethought
theyoungeroneswouldbebetter,nottheirownhorribleshadesofawful.
Gwengentlytakesthewinefromherhandandplacesitonasidetablebeforesteppingcloserandwrappinganarmaroundher
waist.Bethforcesherselftotakeadeepbreath.WhereLordClyson’sgripwaspossessive,Gwen’stouchiscalmingandlovely,
andsheletshershoulderscomedown
“JustbecauseIthinkthey’reallarsesdoesn’tmeanyouhaveto,andsomeofthemarenice.”
“‘Nice’doesn’tseemgoodenoughtomarry.”
GwenblowsoutabreathandBethwilts.Shedoesn’tmeantobeadowner,butshethought—whatdidshethink,she’dmeeta
prettyboyandsuddenlyshe’dwanttobemarriedforthefirsttimeinherlife?
“You’reright.Mostofthemarehorrible,andevenmarryingtheniceonesisstillgivingupahellofalot.”
“Mymotheralwaysseemedsounhappy,”Bethadmits,notinghowhermotherlaughsacrossthefloor,lookingfreeandconfident.Somethingsheneverseemedathome.“I’dratherbesingleandpennilessthanstuckinamarriagelikethat.”
Gwensighs.“Agreed.Thoughpennilesslooksdifferentwhenyou’rereallyinit.”
“Iknow,”Bethsaysshortly.
Gwensqueezesherwaist.“Idon’twanttobemarriedanymorethanyoudo.Stuckwithsomeboringmantherestofmylife?”
“Woulditbeworsebeingstuckwithyourfatheryourwholelife?”Bethwonders.
AtleastGwenhasthechoicetoremainunwed.She’llhavesomewheretolivewhentheseason’sover.
“Oh,Father’shardlyboring.He’sfun,andfunny,andIenjoyourhouse.Youwouldtoo.I’mtellingyou,youshouldcomestay
sometime.Youcan’thavemyfather—”Bethgiggles,wrinklinghernose.Gwengrins,squeezingherhip.“Buthecouldconvince
yousomemenareworthit.”
Bethrollshereyes,laughingasGwensnickers.“Sure.”
Theystandforamoment,watchingthedancing.Itispretty,evenifit’sthecoreofaritualshewantsnopartin.Gwen
nudgesBethandshefollowshergaze,noticingLordHavenfortstandingacrossfromthem,hiseyestrackinghermotherasshe
danceswithoneoftheelderlymembersoftheHouseofLords.
LordHavenfortisfull-onglaringatthem.AndwhenMotherspotshimovertheLord’sshoulder,sheblushesandturnsherlook
away.
Gwenstiffensbesideher.
“What?”
“…Nothing,”Gwensays,shakingherhead.
“What?”Bethinsists,notingthecalculatinglookinhereyeandherrigidposture.
“It’sstupid.”
“Tellme,Icouldusealaugh,”Bethpresses.
Gwensighsandlooksbackather.“Thisisgoingtosoundludicrous,”shecautions.
“Hitme.”
“Whatifwegotthemtogetherinstead?”
Bethstaresather.“What?”
“Ourparents.Clearlythere’shistorythere.Yourmotherisavailable,myfatherisavailable.He’dbeverygoodtoher,and
kind,andclearlyhealreadylikesher.”
Bethgapesathernewfriend.Gettheirparents—“Mymotherhateshim!”
“Doesshe?”Gwenasks.“Shewon’tmeethiseyes,butthatdoesn’tlooklikehatetome,”shesays,juttingherchinsoBeth
looksacrossthefloortoseehermothergloweringatayoungdebutantewho’smakingeyesatLordHavenfort.
Bethbitesatherlip.Shedoesn’tthinkshecouldwatchhermotherinanotherbadmarriage.
“Hewouldbeawonderfulhusband,”Gweninsists.
“Eventhoughhe’sarake?”Bethasks,wincingasGwenraisesaneyebrow.“Sorry,Ididn’tmean—”
“He’slonely,”Gwensays.“Andhecancurethatlonelinessinwayswomencan’t.Buthe’sanabsolutegentleman,andIthink
fortherightwoman,he’dbeanexcellenthusband.”
Bethhesitates.It’sintriguing,but—“Weonlyhavethisseason.Mothercan’taffordtopresentmeagain.Iwouldn’twantthis
togetintheway.”
“Ifyourmothermarriedmyfather,wehaveenoughmoneyforyoutoattendtenseasons,”Gwensaysimmediately.“Butifyourmothermarriedmyfather,youwouldn’tevenhaveto.Theycouldhaveanheir.”
Bethfidgets.Hermother,withchildagain?Withanheir?She’dneverhavetomarryifMotherhadasonthatcouldinherit.
Shecouldbecometheoldspinsterauntshe’salwayswantedtobe.
Nomoreballs.Nomoremorningcalls.Nomoreleeringmenandgrabbinghandsandinvitationsforuntowardtrystsinthegardens.
“Comeon.Idon’twanttogetmarried.Youdon’twanttogetmarried.They’resoclearlyinlovewitheachother,itonly
makessense,”Gwensays,clutchingatherwaist.
Ifitcouldgetheroutofanunhappymarriageandinreturnmakehermotherhappy…
“Okay,”Bethsays,noddingasGwengrins.“I’min.”ChapterFourGwen
“Comeon!”Gwenwhines,standinginthefoyerinherbestpastelgreendress,bonnet,andlaceshawl.“We’regoingtobelate!”
Fatherwalksslowlydownthestairs,messingwithhiscravatandlookingdistinctlyuninterested.“Ihatethesethings.”
“Iknow.”
“It’llbedampandwarmandfullofboringstuffedshirts.”
“Youneedtofixyours,”Gwensays,steppinguptohimtostraightenhisvestbeneathhisfrockcoat.“You’rewearingyour
goodcufflinks?We’llbeplayingcroquet,areyoupresentableunderthis?”
“WhywillIbeplayingcroquet?Andyes,ofcourse,I’mnotaheathen.”
Gwenfrowns,lookinghimover.Helooksdecent—hairnicelycoifed,shoesshined,coatpressed.Veryhandsome.Certainlyhandsome
enoughtoturnLadyDemeroven’shead.
“Shouldn’twebeassessingyou?”heasks,amusedasshewalksaroundhim.
“Mrs.Stelmalreadydid.Whatdoyouknowofthecurrentfashions,anyway?”
“Iknowthatyouneverwearanythingthisbrightunlessshemakesyou.”
“It’sagardenparty—Ishouldlookfestive.”Thatshe’sdressedwellandplanstobehaveherselfasaploytolureinLadyDemerovendoesn’tmatter.“I’mnotaheatheneither.”
“No,butyou’refartooexcitedaboutthis.YouhatetheKingsmans.”
“No,youhatetheKingsmans.IlikeEloise,”GwensaysasMrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelmcomedownthestairs.
“Youshouldhaveleftalready,”Mrs.Gilpesays.
“Fathertookagesgettingpretty.”
“Toldyoushe’dbedonefirst,”Mrs.Stelmsays.
Mrs.GilpehandsaquidtoMrs.Stelm.Gwenlaughs.
“Andhowmuchmorehaveyouwageredonouryoungdeb?”Fatherasks.
“Wageringonme?Whateverfor?”Gwensays,tryingtolookinnocent.
“AsIunderstandit,thewholehousehasabetonhowmanyyoungmenyoucanmakecryplayingcroquet,”Fathersays,grinning
ather.
“NothowmanysuitorsIcomehomewith?I’mshocked,”Gwensays,shakingherheadasMrs.Gilperollshereyes.
“Putintwoforme,”Fathersays,handingtwoquidtoMrs.Stelm.“IfIwin,I’llorderwineforeveryone.”
“Now,you’vesimplygottomakeafewboyscry,”Mrs.StelmtellsGwen.
Gwensnorts.“We’vegottogo.I’llmakeyouallproud,onewayortheother,nowcomeon,”shesays,usheringFatherout
ofthefoyer.
Shesupposessheshouldbeupsetbytheirteasing.Absolutelynooneexpectshertocomehomewithaninterestedsuitorafteraneventlikethis.Tobehonest,shedoesn’tthinkanyofthem,includingherself,expecthertomakeitoutofthisseasonwithanoffer,oreveninterest.
ButnowshejustwantstoseeifshecanmakeAlbiecry.Thoughshe’snotsureFatherwillcountthat,sincesheregularly
makesbothAlbieandBobbymiserable.Thenagain,sheremindsherselfassheandFathersettleintothecarriageforthetwenty-minute
driveacrossthepark,makingboyscryisn’ttheobjective.
TheobjectiveistogetLadyDemerovenandherfathertointeractinawaythatwillforcethemintoconversation.They’re
startingsmall.Getthemtotalk,that’sall.Andthenrekindlewhateverpassionwasthere,andgetbothherandBethout
ofthisridiculousmarriagemarket.
Buttalkingwillbeenoughfortoday.
“You’reabsolutelytooexcitedaboutthis.Whathaveyouplanned?”Fatherasks.
Gwenmeetshisgaze,givinghimhermostinnocentsmile.Henarrowshiseyesanyway,buthersmileispracticed.That’sprobably
whathashimsuspicious.
“I’mjustexcitedtoseeBethandplay,”Gwensayshonestly.It’snotthefulltruth,butanydaysheandBethgettospend
togetherisagoodone.She’stheperfectpartnerincrime.Sharp,witty,wily,andfunnyashell—Gwen’sneverhadsomuch
funwithsomeone.Andiftheirplansucceeds,they’llgettobetogetherallthetime.Wellworththepotentiallossofpin
moneyshouldFatherfindout.
TheyrideincontentedsilenceuntiltheyarriveattheKingsmanestate.Theydismountfromthecarriageandheadthrough
thebackgatetothealreadybustlingparty.They’renotexactlylate,butthey’refarfromthefirsttoarrive.
“Playnicely,”Fathermurmursasthey’regreetedbytheKingsmans,bowsandcurtsiesexchangedandpleasantriesextendeduntilGwenisusheredofftogatherwiththeother“kids.”
GwengivesFatheratoothygrinandhurriesacrosstheexpansivebackgardentowardthegaggleoftulleandshawlsbythe
smallpond.
TheKingsmansmaybesinfullydullpeople,buttheirgardenerisagenius.Thelushtrellisesofflowersandfloweringshrubbery
thatencasethebackgardenaresplendid.Theblossomingspotsofpurples,yellows,oranges,andpinksamongthegreenleaves
brightentheslightlygloomyafternoon.Tablesandchairshavebeensetupbythebackpatio,preparedforaformalteato
beservedonceeveryoneisinattendance.Bencheslinethesculptedwalkingpaththatwendsitswaythroughtheyard.Each
spotisintricatelycraftedtobetheperfectplaceforpoliteconversationandstaidcourting.
Anelaboratecroquetcoursehasbeenlaidoutfortheiramusementintheopenspaceonthelawn.Becausethere’snothingthe
tonenjoysmorethananexcusetogetclosepassedoffasalittlecompetition.Andthere’snoshortageofpartnerstoday.
Everyavailablechair,bench,andpicnicspotisfilledwiththeyoungandmosteligibleofthesocietyset.They’reallwildly
overdressedforthehumidafternoon,buteagertopartakeinthisdaintymatingritualwithfingersandwiches.
Gwensearchesthemillingcrowd,smilingandnoddingwithoutengaging.There’sonlyonepersonshewantstofind,andshe
grinswhenshespotsherchattingwithAlbie.Beth’swearingalovelyyellowgownthatmakesherhairshineandcontrasts
herrosycheeksanddarkeyes.GwencanseeAlbie’satleastalittlebitentranced,eveniftheirheightdifferenceishilarious.
It’sashameAlbie’sfatherneedshimtomarryformoney,notjuststatus.She’ssureBethhasadowrytooffer,butnothing
largeenoughtohelppulltheMasonsoutoftheirincreasingdebt.AlbieandBobbynevertalkaboutit,butsheknowsthe
viscount’sgamblingweighsheavilyonthewholefamily.
IfLordMasondidn’thateFathersomuch,theremightbemoretheycoulddo.ButheruncleblamesFatherforhermother’s
deathafterchildbirth,andtheybarelyspeak,thoughtheyatleastallowthechildrentofraternize
“Gwen!”
Gwenshakesoffdarkerthoughtsaboutherfather’sownreputationandhurriestojoinherfriends.ShewrapsBethinaquick
hugandthenpunchesAlbieonthearm.Hesimplyrollshiseyesinreturnandnodstowardthedrinkstation,everthedutiful
cousin.
“I’vemissedyou,”Bethsaysbrightly,keepingholdofGwen’sarmastheyturntolookoutatthepartytogether.
“Youweresupposedtopromenadeyesterday,”Gwensays.
Bethsighs.“Yes,butMotherthoughtanotherroundofmorningcallswasmoreimportant.Fatlotofgooditdid.Mr.Mason’s
theonlyonewhowouldtalktome.”
“Goodol’Albie,”Gwensaysashelumbersbacktothem,extendingaglassofwineforherbeforetakingadecentslugofhis
ownbrandy.“You’vecleanedupnice,”sheadds,lookinghimupanddown.
Helooksratherdashing,actually.Butthegrimacebelieshistruenature.“Father’ssetonthisbeingtheseasonnowthat
Bobby’souttoo,”hesaysglumly.
Gwenraisesherglasstohim.“Itcouldn’tlastforever.”
Hechucklesandtapsherglasswithhisown.“Isupposeso.”
Gwenscanstheassembledgirls.NotjustanyonewilldoforAlbie.“MissMarch?”
“IheardDyfort’sgothiseyeonher,”Albiesayswithashrug.
“So?Dyfort’sanarse.You’resweet,andshe’stall.”
BethsnortsquietlyandAlbielaughs.“Tallisallyou’vegot?”
“Wellit’strue!Didn’tyousayheightdifferenceswereawkward?”sheasks,lookingtoBeth,whosobersatherfrownandnods
seriouslyupatAlbie.
“I’dhavetoclimbontwoappleboxesjusttokissyourcheek.Howembarrassing.”
Albierollshiseyesbutbobshishead.“Isuppose.”
“LadyMeredith?”Gwensuggests,lookingacrosstheyardatMeredith,bedeckedinaslightlygarishmagentadressthataccents
everyoneofhercurvesandhighlightshershinyauburnhair.“Penchantforcoloraside,she’sverysweetandwhip-smart.
Greatatduets.”
“Perhaps,”Albiesays,andGwensmiles,notinghisinterest.
“I’maconstantdisappointmenttoAlbie,”shetellsBeth.“I’mgoodonmyown,butduetshaveneverbeenmyforte.”
“Youjustdon’tlikesharing,”Albiefiresback.“Maybeyoutwocouldpracticetogether.MissDemerovensayssheandhermother
playduetseveryday.”
“Wedo,”Bethagrees.“Imuchpreferthemtoplayingalone.”
“IsupposeIcouldbepersuaded,”Gwensays,thinkingthatanafternoonlettingBethteachherduetswouldbemuchmoreenjoyable
thanAlbie’sfrustration.ShethinksBeth’slikelytobeamoreamiablepartner,andfarnicertolookat.
“You’reon.Mothermightactuallyapprove,”Bethsays.
“Excellent,”Gwensays,bumpinghershouldertoseeBethsmile.
“Whataboutyou?”Albieasks,lookingdownatBeth.“Anyonecaughtyoureye?IfIwasn’tsuchafortunechaserI’dcometocall,justsoyouknow.”
Bethblushesalittleandshakesherhead.“Nonesofar.Mother’sgoingabitspareaboutit,actually,”sheadds,glancing
backtowardLadyDemeroven,who’smakingtheroundswiththemothersclusteredaroundtheteacakes.
Thefathersareallseatedonthedeck,deepintothebrandyalreadyandsmokingcigars.It’sasmallassemblage;mostof
themescapetotheclubiftheycanmanageit,ratherthansuffertheseevents.
GwennoticesherfathertrackingLadyDemeroven’sslightlyfranticmovementaroundthegroupaswell.Perhapssheshouldput
herplanintoactionsoonerratherthanlater,beforeFathergetsthechancetofinishhisglassandgoforanother.
“Well,we’lljusthavetomakealittlemagicthen,won’twe?”Gwensuggests,turningbacktoherfriends.
“Howso?”Albieasks.
“Ithinkabitofcouplescompetitionisinorder.Ifyou’llexcuseme,”Gwensays,squeezingBeth’sarmbeforethrowingback
therestofherwine.
“Whatareyouupto?”Bethasks.
“Shenanigans,”Gwensayswithasignificantlook,grinningasBeth’ssmilewidens.Letthegamesbegin.
Sheplacestheglassdownononeofthetablesandthenwalkstothecenterofthelawn,takingadeepbreath.Timetoturn
onwhatlittlecharmshehas.
Shegoesfortheyouthfirst.“Gatheraround!”shecalls,wavingthefriendlyfacesovertoher,trustingeveryoneelseto
follow.
Shemaybenoone’sfirstchoice,butshe’sknownforherhijinks.She’smadeitapointtobethegroupdirectorofmoralesincehersecondseason.Ifshehastosufferit,she’llsufferitwithfun.
“Whatwillitbethisyear?”Eloiseasks,draggingoverAnnabethandLordProusalongwithher.Hervoicecarriesanadmonishment
butthedelightonherfacesaysotherwise.
“Iproposeatournament,”Gwensaysastherestofthecollectedgroupgathersaroundher.“Ofteams.”
Intriguedlooksallaround.Gwengrins,meetingBeth’seyeswithaconspiratorialwinkasshesidlesupalongtheedgeof
thegroupwithAlbie.
“Firstwe’llpairoff,ladiesandgentlemen.Thehighestscoringthreecoupleswin.Andthen—”Gwenswingsaroundtheatrically
tofacetheassembledparents,whoareallwatchingtheircluster.
Equalpartsamusement,resignation,anddisdainlittertheirfacesbutGwendoesn’tletitfazeher.Fatherwillbackher
up,attheleast.She’scountingonit.
“Themothersofthewinningdebsandfathersofthewinninggentlemenshallhavetoteamupinafightforsupremacy,”Gwen
announces.Shehearsthechildrenlaughwhilethemothersandfathersexchangelooks.“Suchanicewayforpotentialfuture
in-lawstobecomebetteracquainted,isn’tit?”Gwencontinues,allsweetnessandlight.
Fathernarrowshiseyesather,butshedoesn’tthinkhe’scaughtontoherjustyet.Shewaits,armsoutstretchedforthe
parentalapproval,andwithagreatsigh,LordKingsmannodsandwaveshishandforthemtogoahead.
Gwenclapsandspinsbacktothereasonforthiswholecharade:matchmaking.Thatherrealtargetsareofdecidedlyolderageneednotbementioned.
“Allright:LadyEloiseandProus,MissBligheandMort,LadyAnnabethandJohnson,LadyMeredithandMason,”shesays,giving
Albieaquickglance.Hispressed-lipsmilespeaksvolumes.
“Thorton,you’rewithme.”Shenodstothetall,strappingcricketplayerwithwhomshe’ssharedafewlacklusteroutings.
Noworriesofuntowardfeelingsthere,butshe’ssurehe’llhelpherwin.Competitivetoafault.
“MissSusanwithHaroldson,MissMarchwithDyfort,andMissDemerovenwithJacobson,”Gwencompletes,noddingBethtoward
theHonorableJohnJacobson.
He’sareedy,bashfulboy,butsheknowshe’sviciousonthepitch,andhe’salmostascompetitiveasLordThorton.He’salso
alreadypromisedtoMissRoseAnderson,butshe’snotsurehe’sgottenupthecouragetotellhisparents.HopefullyLady
Demerovenwon’tcatchwinduntillater,oratleastwon’tthinkillofherforit.Mostimportantly,hisfatherisn’tinattendance
today.
“Allright,grabyourmallets,lineup,andlet’splay.We’lldoexpandedassociation,threeteamsperround!”Gwenexclaims,
beamingasthekidsscrambleforthebestequipment.
LordThortonamblesuptoher,alreadyhavinggrabbedthebestset.“Whatareyouplayingat,LadyGwen?”
“Thesepartiesaresinfullydull.Ithoughtwatchingourparentsbumblearoundmightbefun,”Gwensayscasually.
“Sure,”Thortonsays,andthat’sthelasttimetheyspeaktoeachother.
Instead,theyfocusondecimatingthecompetition.WithThorton’sedgeandheryearsofplayingbilliardswithFather,they’reeasilythebestteamonthefield.MeredithandAlbiegivethemarunfortheirmoney—theyworkperfectlytogether,asshethought—andBethandJacobsonaren’tfarbehind.Theydon’tseemlikethey’rehavingquiteasmuchfuntogether,butthey’reequallyfocusedandBethhasasurprisinglysteadyswing.
Itworksexactlyasshethoughtitwould.EloiseandLordProusspendthewholetimetooflusteredbytheirproximitytopay
anyrealattentiontothegame.DyfortisanarseandbarelyletsStephanietry.Whatalout.SusieandLordHaroldsonare
middlingatbest.Andassheplanned,AnnabethandLordJohnsonandSamanthaandLordMortalldoterribly,becausetheyshould
havepartnersswapped.Shefeelsabitlikeanevilgeniusasthematchcomestoitsend.
SheraisesLordThorton’shand,grinningatBethastherestofthedebutanteswanderaway,commiseratingontheirlosses.
Theyheadforthealcoholtosettleinandwatchwhatcanonlybeaninterestingmatchamongtheremainingparents.
Gwenleadsthethreewinningteamsuptotheedgeofthepatio.Theparentsclappolitelyforthemandtheyallbowandcurtsy.
Gwenpushesthroughthefeelingofchildishnessthatbrieflydescendsonher.Likeshe’ssevenagainandhasjustperformed
adanceforherfather’sdinnerparty,alittledollonshow.
“Yourchampions,”Gwentellsthem,laughingasFatherrollshiseyesandthemothersgiggle.“ThatmeansLadyHarringtonand
Mr.MasonwillbeplayingforLadyMeredithandMr.Mason,”Gwenexplains,noddingtotheprimladyandAlbie’suncle.
Mr.Masonholdsouthisarmandescortsthereluctant,butclearlypleased,LadyHarringtonfromthepatioandoutontothefield.AlbieandMeredithpassthemmallets,andGwennotesAlbie’sunclepattinghimontheshoulder.ItwasniceofhimtocomeforAlbietoday,givenViscountMasonwouldratherdropdeadthanattendasocietytea.Nice,andconvenient.
“ThenLordLawsonforLordThorton,andLadyKingsman,wouldyoumindverymuchsteppinginforme?”Gwenasks,makingher
eyeswideandpleading.
LadyKingsmanglancesatherhusband,whowaveshishand,shakinghisheadatGwen’santics.LadyKingsmannodsandallows
LordLawsontoleadherouttoGwenandThorton.
“I’llmakeyouproud,”LadyKingsmanpromises.
Gwengrinsandhandsoffhermallet.ThoughLordKingsmanisablowhardandadolt,shehasalwayslikedhiswife.
“ThatjustleavesLadyDemerovenforMissDemeroven,andFather,wouldyoustandinforMr.Jacobson?”Gwenasksbrightly,
givingthewholepatioabroadsmile.
LadyDemerovengoesstockstill,andherfather—oh,shehasn’tseenalooklikethatonFather’sfacesincethelasttime
shebrokeavasewhenshewasten.Butthere’snowaytheycanrefuse.LadyKingsman,thehost,justagreedtostepinfor
her.Theycanhardlysaynonow,notwithoutbeingterribly,terriblyrude.
Still,evenasFatherrisesstifflyandescortsaclearlyuncomfortableLadyDemerovenfromthepatioandovertoBethand
Jacobson,Gwenswallowsthickly.Shewassurewhenshestartedthatthiswouldgowell.Butthelookonbothoftheirfaces
astheytaketheirmallets—thewayhe’sholdingherarm—
“Goon,goon,”Mr.Masonsays,clearlynotnoticingthediscomfortthat’sfallenovertwooftheplayers.“Wantawager,Havenfort?”
Fatherseemstocomeoutofhisstuporandnarrowshiseyesathisyoungerbrother-in-law.“Braggingrightsaren’tenough
foryou?”
“IwasthinkingperhapsthefirstshotintheseasoninAugust.”
“Atmymanorofcourse,”Fathersays.
“Indubitably.”
Gwenwincesassheandtheotherwinningchildrenbacktowardtherefreshmenttabletowatch.BethleavesJacobsontocome
toherside,slippingherarmanxiouslythroughGwen’s.
“Yousurethisisagoodidea?”shewhispers.
“You’reon,”Fathersays.“Come,LadyDemeroven,let’sgivethesepeopleashow,shallwe?”
“Ohdear,”Gwenmumbles.
Father’sgothiscompetitivefaceon,andthat’snotafacethatcomeswithmanners,charm,orgoodwill.Worse,itdoesn’t
looklikeLadyDemerovenknowsthefirstthingaboutcroquet.
GwenandBethwatchanxiouslyasLadyKingsmanandLordLawsontaketheirfirstshots.Excellent,eachofthem.IfBeth’s
motherhasanyskillatall,thismightbeasportinggame.
“Whydidn’tyoutellmethiswasyourplan?Motherhasnocoordinationwhatsoever,”BethwhispersandGwensucksonhercheek,
fightingtheurgetochewonhernails.
Mr.MasonandLadyHarringtongonext,andthey’realsowonderful,encouragingeachotherpolitelyandgrinningoveratAlbie
andMeredith.Eachpairmustgetbothballsthroughthesamewicketinordertoprogress,andherfatherandLadyDemeroven
haven’texchangedasinglewordyet.
“Yourturn,myliege,”Mr.Masonsaysloftily.
“I’llmakeyoueatyourwords,”Fathersaysgamely.“Come,LadyDemeroven,ladiesfirst.”
BethtightenshergriponGwen’sarmasLadyDemerovensquaresoffhershot,bendingawkwardly.Gwencantellfiveseconds
beforesheswingsthatshewon’tevenhittheball.
LadyDemeroventeetersbeforefindingherbalancetoasmatteringofpolitelaughter.Shehesitatesforamoment,hercheeks
pink,andthenrallies,turningtoBethandGwentogiveanexaggeratedshrug.BethlaughsandGwengivesherasupportive
smile,butFatherisn’thavingit.
“Comenow,LadyDemeroven,you’vemoreskillthanthat,”headmonishes,steppingtooclosetoforcehertomoveaside.
Shedoes,withasmuchgraceasshecanmuster,butstilltripsandstumbles,furtherembarrassed.Fatherdoesn’tnotice,
toobusywhackinghisballwithtoomuchforce.Hisswingsendstheballonanangle,makingitthroughthefirstbutmissing
thesecondwicket.
“Blast,”heexclaims.
LadyDemerovenscowls.Fathershakeshisheadandgrabsherarm,movinghernone-too-gentlyasideasLadyKingsmanandLord
Lawsonreturnfortheirnextround.
“Ridiculous.You’reabletoplaypianoforteandpaintbutcan’thitasimpleball?”Gwenhearshimmutter.
Shegrimaces.BethturnstoburyherforeheadinGwen’sshoulderathermother’ssnipped“Notlikeyoudidmuchbetter.I
thoughtmarksmenweremeanttohavegoodaim.”
“Whathavewedone?”Bethwhispersastheirparentscontinuetobicker,gettinglouderandlouderwhiletheothertwocouples
playthrough,barelypretendingtoignorethem.
Gwenthoughtproprietywouldkeepherfather’scompetitiveobnoxiousnesstoaminimum—thattherewasenoughlatentaffectionforLadyDemeroventhathe’dbe,Godforbid,thecharmingmanshe’sseenhimbewithotherwomen.Instead,itseemsshe’sunleashedanuglymonster.
BythetimeFatherandLadyDemerovenstepupfortheirsecondround,Father’sgloweringlikehe’sjustloststockandLady
Demerovenisanunfortunateshadeofpuce.
“Goahead,then,”Fathersaysgruffly,gesturingmockinglyforLadyDemeroventotakehershot.
Sheglaresathimandsquaresup.Fatherstaystooclose,eggingheronfrombehind.Whensheswingshermalletback,itmeets
withmorethanemptyair.
Fatherstaggersbackward,clutchinghimselfbetweenthelegsandgroaning.LadyDemerovenspinsaround,mouthagape,andaccidentally
whackshimintheknee,sendinghimsprawling.
GaspsandshoutsfilltheairasFathercurlsupthereonthegrass,staringupatLadyDemeroventhroughsquintedeyes.
“Myapologies,LordHavenfort,”LadyDemerovensays,droppinghermalletandfallingtoherknees,handsfluttering,skirt
andhoopcoveringhalfofFather’sbodyashecontinuestowince.Shedoeslookgenuinelysorry.
“No,no,standback.Can’t…trustyour…coordinationatall…no,”Fathermanages,battingawayherskirtsand
strugglingtostand.
WithoutofferinghishandtoLadyDemerovenoralooktoanyonearoundthem,hestumblesofftowardthehouse,leavingLady
Demeroventhereontheground,thepartystaringaghast.Gwenlooksaroundandfindsmostofthegirlsnowstandingwiththeir
mothers,openlywhispering.
Beth,horrified,hurriesforwardtohelphermotherupwithasmuchprideastheycanmanage.LadyDemeroventakesherhandandtogethertheygethertostanding.Theusuallypoisedwomanbrushesherselfoffandoffersathin,guiltysmiletotheguests.
“Myapologiesfortheexcitement.IthinkMissDemerovenandIshouldretire—I’mfeelingabitunwellmyself.LadyGwen,you’ll
makesureyourfatherisallright?”
“Ofcourse,”Gwensays,meetingBeth’seyes,bothofthemshockedbyjusthowastoundinglypoorlythatwent.“Farewell,Lady
Demeroven,”sheadds,curtsying.
Thatseemstojolteveryoneoutoftheirshock.LadyKingsmanstepsforwardtoseetheDemerovensout,whilethepartyresumes
otherwise.Gwenimaginesthiswillbethetalkofmanyafuturegardenparty.WhethersheorBethwillbeinvitedremains
tobeseen.
ShesupposesshecankissherafternoonofduetswithBethgoodbyetoo.
“Thatwentverywell,”Albiesays,cominguptohersidewithMeredithintow.
Gwenclenchesherjawandwhackshisarmbeforestalkingoff,intentonfindingherfatherandmakingtheirownhastyretreat.ChapterFiveBeth
ThesunbeatsdownontheparkandBethfeelsatrickleofsweatmakingitswayalongthebackofherneck.She’sgladthey’ll
atleasthavetheeveningtothemselvestonight.Shedoesn’tthinkherhairwillhavesurvivedbeingunderherbonnetall
afternoon.
Motherwipesdaintilyatherfacewithalacehandkerchiefandsighs.Bethglancesupatherandthenlooksbackoutatthe
park,barelylisteningasMotherreturnstoherendlesslistofeligibleyoungmenandthefamilyfortunesthatcomewith
them.
Theydidn’tspeakfortherestofthedayafterthecroquetfiasco.Andthenextmorninghermothercamedowntobreakfast
withanintensitytowardBeth’scourtingthatwasfranklyfrightening.
Gonearetheireasymorningchatsoverthedailypapers.Gonearethechessmatchesandeventheduets.
Breakfastteas,midmorningteas,luncheons,morningcalls,picnics,anddinnershavefilledeveryavailablespeckoftime
sofarthisweek.AndallofthemconspicuouslymissingGwen’spresence.
Asifatthemerethoughtofhername,BethspotsGwenacrossthegreen,stuckinaconversationwithafewmothers.Achaperone,whomustbeherhousekeeper,standsafewpacesofftotheside.BethwantstowalkacrosstheparkandstealGwenaway.Talkaboutanythingotherthanteasandballsandcourting.Askhertofinishherstoryaboutthetimesheandherfathergotstrandedwhileboatingontheirlakeuntilherhousekeeperhadtocomegetthem.ShegotinterruptedattheGentryteajustatthepartwhereherfatherhadfallenintothelake,andBethwantstoknowwhathappened.WantstohearGwentellher,allthedelightandmischievousnessinhervoice.Beth’sprettysureGwenpushedhimin,butwon’tknowuntilshegetstotalktoGwenagain.
ButMotherwon’tseeanytimespentjustwithGwenasvaluable.NothingBethdoescanhavejustonepurposeanymore.Itall
hastobeforthecause,andBethsighs,comingbacktohermother’slongtiradeabout—dearLord,lacehems?Gwencatches
hereye,lookingwoefullyoveratthem,unabletogetawayandjustasmiserable,listeningtowhatmustbeanequallyboring
conversation.
Theycan’tlettheirplanpeteroutlikethis.
“Couldwerest,Mother?”Bethaskssoftly,interruptingherexplanationofthevariousintricaciesoftheHalyardfortune.
Motherlooksdownatherandtakesintheflushthatmustbeonhercheeksandhersweatingforehead.Thehoopbeneathher
petticoatsandpalepurpleskirtsletsinsomeair,buteventhatreliefisn’tenoughtoday.Thesundirectlyonhershoulders
isstartingtosmart.Shelikelylooksjustasmiserableasshefeels.Surelyaresttorecoverherpoisecanbeallowed.
“Here,darling,let’swatchtheboats,”Motheragrees,guidingBethovertothesideofthelake,wheretheycanstareout
atthenumerouscouplesoutforapleasantboatride.
Theyalllookaboutashotanduncomfortableasshefeels,butatleastthey’reallwanted.Shewatchesablondgirlthrowherheadback,laughing.Theboyacrossfromherlooksdelighted.AndhereBethis,standingontheshorewithhermother,invisibleandhappythatway.Theboy’sgazelookspleasant,butshe’dratherjustbehomereadinginsideawayfromtheheat.
“What’sthematter?”Motherasks,hervoicesoft.
Bethlooksupandfindshermother’sfaceclearedofitsfrenziedmissionforthefirsttimeallweek.Bethshrugs,looking
backattheboats,notwantingtodisappointher,butdesperatetobehonest.Desperateforhowitwasattheirmanorupin
thecountry,justthetwoofthemandMissWilson,wreakinghavocandlivinginpeace.
“Ifeellikelivestockbeingmeasuredupforsale,”Bethadmits,glancingbehindthem,notingthegentlemenwhopass,giving
themappraisinglooks.
MothersnortsquietlyandBethmeetshergaze,surprisedbytheamusementandunderstandingonherface.“Itisalot,isn’t
it?”sheagrees.Bethfightsagainstgaping.“Idon’trememberdoingquitethismuchwithmymother.Itseemed…easier
whenIwasyourage.”
Bethconsidersher,thinksabouttheprecisionwithwhichshe’sattackedthiswholeaffair.Theworkandefforthermother
isputtingin,thenightsspentcalculatingexpensesandplanningdailyitineraries.There’smakeuphidingherexhaustion
too,andtheefforttobecheerfulandcharmingiswearingonherjustasmuchasitisonBeth.
“Idoubtthat,”Bethdecides.
Motherlaughsandpullshercloser,herarmsqueezingBeth’s.Andthoughit’shot,shedoesn’tquitemindtheproximity.
“It’sdreadful,”Motheradmits,shruggingasBethstaresather.“IonlydidoneseasonandIcan’ttellyouthereliefwhenIfinallymarriedyourfather.I’vehadtwenty-twoyearswithoutthis,”shesaysalmostfondly.
ButshehadtwentyofthosewithBeth’sfather.
“Didyou—”Bethstarts,beforebitingherlipandlookingoutattheboats.
“What?”Motherasksgently.
Bethhesitates.Shedoesn’twanttoask,butshewantstoknow.Hasalwayswantedtoknow.“DidyoumarryFatherjusttoescape
this?”
Shecan’tlookathermother.Can’tstandtoseethehurtshe’scausedwithhercuriosity,butsheneedstoknow.Herhorrible,
dismissive,cruelfather.Wastwentyyearsbeneathhisthumbworthitjusttoescapetheuncertaintyoftheseason?
Hermother’shandcurlsoverherelbow,gentlepressure.BethsneaksaglanceupatherandfindsMotherwatchinghernot
withanger,butwithunderstanding.
“Iwanttotellyouitwaslovethatforcedmyhand,butIcan’t,”sheadmits,ghostregretonherface,butnopain.“Imade
achoiceforsecurity—somyparentswouldn’tworryaboutme—soIcouldprovideforthechildrenIdesperatelywanted,”she
continues,reachingoutwithherfreehandtobrushawaywardhairfromBeth’sforehead.
“Buthewasso—”
Mothernods.“ButIgotyou,”sheinsists.“AndthisisnotwhatIwantedforyou.Iwantyoutoknowthat,”sheaddsseriously.
Bethnodsquickly.Shewon’tcomplainaboutwhythey’reheretoday,justthathereis…unpleasant.
“AndI’msorrythisishowitisforyoutoo,”Mothercontinues.
Bethbreakshergaze,turningbacktotheboatsbeforesadnessovertakesthemtoomuch.“Wasanyofitfun,atall?”sheasks,
goingforwryandfallingabitflat.
ButMotherrallies.“Someofit,”shesays,nudgingBethasshenarrowshereyesskeptically.
“Likewhat?”
“Theboats.Ihad…agentlemanfriendbeforeImetyourfather,andhewasawondrousdancer,”Mothertellsher.
“Butonlyafriend?”Bethwonders.
She’softenthoughtthattherewasnowayhermotherdidn’thaveothersuitorsinherseason.Withherbeauty,wit,andcharm,
shemusthavebeenthebelleofeveryballsheentered.Bethisapaleimitationofhowlivelyhermotherwaswhenshewas
younger.Intruth,she’sstillapaleimitationofhernow.
“Hewasn’tinlinetoinheritanddidn’thavethesecurityofatitlethatFatherwantedformyfuture,”Mothersays,staring
offattheboatsherself.“Butwehadfunforawhile.”
Bethwatchesthehappycoupleinthenearestboat,thegirlbrightandflushed,theboybeamingandbashful.Shecan’tremember
hermothereverlookingatherfatherthatway.Can’trememberherfathereverlookinganythingotherthanindifferent.
DidMotherblushlikethatwhenherfirstbeaulookedherway?Wassheeversohappyandcarefree?Wassheeverinlove,even
once?
“Myhopeforyouisthatyoumeetsomeonewhomakesyoulaugh,andmakestheendlessformalitiesfeelalittlefunandsilly,”
Mothersays,turninghergazebacktoBeth.“You’veeverychanceofitthisseason,andIknowit’sonerous,butifyouopen
yourselfuptoit,I’msureyou’llfindawonderfulman.”
Bethforcesherselftonod,toappearasifshebelievesMother’swords.Butifhermother,withallhervariousassets,couldn’tfallinlovewiththerightman,whatchancedoesBethhave?Theonlycompanyshe’senjoyedsofarisGwen’s.
“Shallwewalkbacktowardhome?”Motherasks,herfalsesmilefirmlybackinplace,allmemoryandmelancholylockedaway.
“Yes,”Bethagrees,allowinghertoleadthemfromthebankandbackontothewalkingpath.“Andyoupromise,noeventstonight?”
“None,”Motherassuresher.“Ithoughtwemightplaysomeduetsafterdinner?”
Bethsmilesandleansintoher.“I’dlikethat.”
Theywalkonforafewminutes,andBethmanagestoignoretheappraisinglooksfromthemenandmothersaroundthem,bolstered
byhermother’sreturn,howeverbrief,tonormality.She’smissedher,wildasitseems,whenthey’vedonenothingbutspend
timetogetherforthepastweek.Butshehasn’tbeenMother
There’smorethanenoughpretendingoutsideoftheirhouse.Theyshouldn’thavetokeeppretensesupwhenit’sjustthetwo
ofthem.
Beth’sabouttopushherluckandaskifmaybetheycouldplaychessafterduetswhensomethingthumpshardintoherback.
Shestumbles,lettingoutasurprisedyelp.Motherclutchesathertokeepherfromfalling.Theyturntogethertospota
rugbyballonthegroundandayoungmanhurtlingtowardthem,alreadyshoutingapologies.
Bethtriestoreacharoundtorubatherback.Whoeverthrewthatthinghasquitethearm.
“I’msosorry.I’mso,sosorry,”theyoungmanexclaimsashesprintsuptothem,comingtoahaltjustbeforehetopplesintothemandsendsthemsprawlingalloveragain.
“It’sallright,”Bethsaysautomatically.She’drathernothavebeenhitwithawaywardprojectile,buthelooksterribly
upset.
It’sonlywhenhestandsuptallandgivesalittlebowthatshehasamomenttotrulytakehimin.Statuesquewithachiseled
jawlineandwell-coifedbutslightlyaskewchestnutbrownhair—he’sverypretty,foraboy.
“Mysincerestapologies.I’materribleshot,”themansays,lookingatheraskance.“AndI,well,ViscountMontson,Iam
horrifiedtohavecausedyoupainandaskyourforgiveness,andyourattendancetoatleastonedinneratmyhome,andatea,
anddoyoulikepastries?”
“It’sapleasuretomakeyouracquaintance,LordMontson,”Motherstepsin,savingthepoorboy.Beth’sjustdizziedbyhow
manysocialengagementsshe’snowrequiredtoattendforgettinghitintheback.“YourfatheristheEarlofAshmond?”
“Yes,”LordMontsonsays.“Andhe’llbethoroughlyupsettohearwhatI’vedone.IbelieveyouareLadyDemeroven?”
“Yes,”Mothersays,givinghimawinningsmile.“Andmydaughter,MissDemeroven,isjustfine,aren’tyou,dearest?”
“Iam,”Bethsayshonestly,thoughshedoesn’tatalllikethegleaminMother’seye.“Youneedn’tgotoanytroubleover
it.Itreallywasn’tthatpainful.”
“Iamgladinthismomenttobesuchaterribleshotwithapoorthrow,”LordMontsonsayswithagrin.
Bethfeelsherselfflush.“I’msureyou’veaverypowerfulthrow,”shesaysquickly,wincingasMotherfakesacoughtocover
alaugh.
“Well,I’vecertainlyapowerfulinterestinyourfirstdancetomorrownightattheSmithBall,”hesays,andevenBethisimpressedbyhowsmooththatwas
“She’llbedelightedtodancewithyou,won’tyou,darling?”Motherasks.
Bethwinces.Howembarrassing.“Yes,Iwould,”shesays,meetingLordMontson’seyes.“Thankyou,Ilookforwardtoit.”
“AsdoI,”LordMontsonsays,holdingouthishandtoBeth.
Shetakesitafteramomentofsurprise,andthensucksinabreathasheraisesherglovedhandtokissthebackofit.He
hastobendquitealottomanage.He’sverytall.
“Untiltomorrownightthen,MissDemeroven.AndIgiveyoumuchleavetosteponallofmytoesinretribution.”
“She’squiteanaccomplisheddancer,”Mothersaysquickly.
“I’lldomybesttocauseusnofurthermutualpain,”Bethsays,smilingathimashestandsup.Hestilllookssoconcerned.
“Montson!”callsoneoftheothergentsfromhisgroup.
LordMontsonlooksoveratthemandnodsbeforeturningbacktoBethandhermother,givingthemasweepingbow.“Farewell,”
hesays,andthenstoopstopickuphisballandjogsoff.
Theystandtherewatchinghimgo.Whatjusthappened?
“Weneedtogohomeimmediately,getyourdress,andgettothemodiste,”Mothersaysafterastunnedbeat.
“What?”Bethexclaims,jerkingintomotionasMothertakesherarmagainandpracticallydragsherfromthepark.“ButIthought
wewereplayingduetsand—”
“We’veafutureearlandhisfamilytoimpress,andyou’vefartoolittlelaceontomorrownight’sgown,”Mothersays,ignoringBethentirely.“We’llneedtocancelthatorderofbeef.MissWilsoncanmakesomethingelsefortheweekendroast.Squash,perhaps?Andwe’llneedtovisitthecobblerfornewshoes—yoursaresodrab,”Mothermutters,rattlingonandonastheyhurrydownthepath.
Bethfeelshershoulderscomeupastheystrideoutofthepark,andit’snotjustduetothedullachefrombeingsmacked
inthebackbyLordMontson’seffusivethrow.
ChapterSixGwen
“Holdstill,Gwennie,honestly,”Mrs.StelmmuttersasGwenstaresatherreflection,bouncingherleg.
“I’mbored,”Gwenadmits.
Mrs.Gilpesnortsbehindher,finishingoffGwen’sridiculousbraidedupdofortonight’sball.Mrs.Stelmpatsalastbit
ofblushonGwen’scheekandsmilesencouragingly.
“You’llhavefuntonight,”Mrs.Stelmsays.
Mrs.GilpenudgesGwentostandandstepintothehoopcage.
“WhatifBeth’snotthere?”Gwenasks,awareshe’swhiningandunabletohelpit.
“Thenyou’ll—Godforbid—havetodancewithayounggentleman.Ortalktotheothergirls,”Mrs.Gilpesays,tyingoffGwen’s
hoop.
“Mr.Masonwilldancewithyou,”Mrs.Stelmsays.ShemotionsforGwentoliftherarmssotheycanguideherpetticoatover
herhead.
“Albie’sdancedwithMeredithallthisweek.Idon’tseethatchanging,”Gwenmumbles.
“TheotherMr.Masonthen,”Mrs.Gilpesays,rollinghereyes.SheturnsawaytoprepareGwen’sskirt.
“Hardly,”Gwensays.Bobbystepsonhertoes.
“Thenmakeanotherfriend,”Mrs.Gilpesayssternly.
“Aboyfriend,”Mrs.Stelmaddswithawink.
Gwenwatchesherselfwrinklehernosebeforetheylowerherskirtoverherhead.“Please.”
“Justlikeyourfather,”Mrs.Gilpemuttersastheworldbrieflydisappearsinaflashofdeepgreenfabric.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”Gwenasks,lookingbetweenthemonceherskirtissettled.
“Oh,yourfatherwasarightpillhisfirstseason,”Mrs.Stelmsays,ignoringMrs.Gilpe’slook.“Youstartedit.”
Gwenpounces.“Fatherwasn’tcharming?”
“Oh,hewas.Hadallsortsofinterest,buthewaspicky,likeyou,”Mrs.Gilpeadmits.
“Discerning,”Gwensays,turninghernoseuptomakeMrs.Stelmlaugh.
“Hewasallaboutthedrinkanddancingandplayingrugby.Drovehisfatherupthetwist.Wouldn’tmakecalls,wouldn’tdo
anythinghedidn’tthinkwasfun.”
Gwencan’tfighthersmile.SoundslikeFather,andsoundslikemuchmorefunthanbeingtrusseduponshow.“Sohedidn’t
courtatall?”
“Well,”Mrs.Stelmsays,glancingatMrs.GilpeasshedoesupthebuttonsofGwen’sbodice.
“Please,Iamsobored.I’lltaketwenty-year-oldgossip,”Gwenneedles.
Mrs.Gilpeshrugs.“Hedidn’tcourt,buthehadaladyfriend.”
“Aladyofthenightkindoffriend?”Gwenasks,squinchingherfaceatthethought.
“Notthen,”Mrs.Stelmsays,laughingasMrs.Gilpeswatsather.
“Justafriend.Theyranaroundlikelittlehellions,notunlikeyouandyourfriendBeth,itseems,”Mrs.Gilpesays.
ThatmakesGwensmile.“Buttheydidn’tcourt?”
Mrs.StelmwalksaroundGwen,fussingwithherskirt.“Notexactly,no.”
“Hedidn’t…theydidn’tgetintrouble,didthey?”Gwenasksasthethoughtpassesthrough.
“No,”Mrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelmsayimmediately.
“No,shebrokehisheart,”Mrs.Gilpeadmits.
Gwenstaresather.Father,heartbroken?“Butyousaidtheydidn’tcourt.”
“No,theydidn’t,”Mrs.Stelmagrees.“Doesn’tmeanhedidn’twantto.”
“Butwhynot?”
“Yourfatherwasn’ttheheirtothistitle,”Mrs.Gilpesayswithanothershrug.ShereachesoutandsettlestheveeofGwen’s
bodiceacrosshershoulders.
“Whowasshe?”Gwenasks,tryingtokeephertonecasualdespitethepickupofherpulse.
“Oh,whocanrememberallthenames,”Mrs.Stelmsaysblithely.
“Youknow.Ofcourseyouknow,”Gweninsists.“Wasit—”
“We’regoingtobelate,”Fathersays,pushingintoGwen’sroomwithoutsomuchasaknock.
Allthreeofthemlookoverathim,caughtout.Gwenfrowns.He’swelldressed,butthere’sstillexhaustiononhisface.
He’sbeenoutdrinkingeverynightthisweek,andGodknowswhatelse.
“Ready?”heprompts.
Gwennods,glancingbackatMrs.StelmandMrs.GilpeevenassheletsFatherleadheraway.Oneminutelongerandshe’dhave
known.IfLadyDemerovenbrokehisheart,nowondertheycanbarelyspeaktoeachother.
Itwouldexplainhowawomansobeautifulandaccomplishedendedupmarriedtosuchalout.Gwencan’timagineexchanging
herfatherforBeth’s.SheshouldhateLadyDemerovenforhurtingherfather,butevenwithabrokenheart,Fathersurely
gotthebetterendoftheirexchange.
“Youlooklovely,”Fathertellsher,andGwenforcesherselftosmileashehandsherintothecarriage.
“Thanks.Youlooknicetoo,”shesays.HesettlesontheoppositebenchandtheyheadofftowardtheSmithhouse.“Didyou
havefunlastnight?”
Fathermeetshereyeswithasardonicsmile.“Idid.”
“Toomuchfun.”
Helaughs.“I’llbewell-behavedtonight.Amanneedshisfreedoms.”
“Beniceifaladycouldhavethesame,”Gwengrumbles.
“Youwillnever,ever,havethosefreedoms,”Fathersaysquickly.
Gwenblinks.“I—”
“Imeant,”hestarts,takinginwhatmustbetheoutragebloomingonherface.“Youareanhonorable,civilizedyoungwoman.
IwouldnotwantyoutoknowtheworldsIhavepassedthrough,andcertainlywouldneverwantyoutolookforsolaceinthem.”
Gwenstaresathim,insultedandtouchedatthesametime.“Icantakecareofmyself.”
“Ipraythatyouneverhaveto,”hesaysfirmly.“Whichiswhywe’rehere,isn’tit?”headds,tryingonasmile.“Tofindyouafabuloushusband.”
Gwenlaughsdespiteherself.“Couldn’twefindyouoneinstead?”
FathersnortsandGwenrelaxes,lettingherdiscomfortgo.
“Youdon’tthinkitwouldfurthertarnishmyreputation?”
“Ifhewasanicehusband,whyshouldIcare?”Gwenreturns.“LordBletchleisquitehandsome.”
“Oh,yes,he’sabeautifulman,butfartoomuchofasnobformyliking,”Fathersayslightly.“AndI’dlikesomeonemore
strapping.”
Gwencan’tfighthergiggle,imagininghertallbroad-shoulderedfatherasthelittleman,heldinthearmsofagoliath.
“We’llfindyouakindgiant,then.”
Fathersmilesandthenlooksoutthewindow,theirstrangetensionfinallypassed.It’snotthathe’sbeenunkindtohersince
thecroquetmatch,butithasn’tbeen…this.Itwasn’therfaultthatLadyDemerovencan’tswingacroquetmalletto
saveherlife,butitwasalsoentirelyherfault.Orchestratedbyherownhand.
Shehasn’tcomeupwithagoodsecondplantoforceFatherandLadyDemeroventogetherwithoutthemcomingtofisticuffs.
ButshehopessheandBethcanstealawaytonight.It’sbeenalong,unpleasantweekwithoutherfriend,andshe’sdesperate
togetsomegoodtimeinwithhertonight.
Assoonasthey’reintherespectablysizedSmithballroom,Gwencranesherneck,lookingforBeth.It’sreallyannoyinghow
shedisappearsintoacrowd,sopetite.
“They’reoverthere,”Fathersays,nudgingGwensosheturnstospotLadyDemerovenandBethwaitingjusttothesideofthefoyer,nearthecurvedentrancestaircase.Shemissedthemonthewayin.
“Willyoucomesayhello?”Gwenasks.
Fathershakeshishead.“No,no,yougo.I’vebusinesstoattendtothisevening.TheMatrimonialCausesActhastopass,
andI’vepalmstogrease.”
Gwenjustnods,lettinghimstepaway.Helookspracticallygleeful,headingforwhateverstatesmanhethinkshecanfell
tohiswill.
ButGwen’snotinterestedintherightsofdivorcetonight.Tonight,she’sgoingtosweepBethawayandthey’llplottheir
nextattack,andhopefullygetgloriouslydrunkinthemeantime.It’sbeensuchalongweek.
GwenscurriesovertoBethandLadyDemeroven.Bethspotsherandtapshermother’sarmwheretheirelbowsarelinked.Both
womenlookbeautiful.Beth’sinagorgeousbluegown,herdarkhairpiledatopherheadwithstylizedcurlsfallingtoframe
herface.There’slacealloverherdressandshe’swearinghigherheels,herforeheadalmostatGwen’scheekforthefirst
time.
LadyDemerovenlooksequallystunninginadarkernavygown,ablacksashstillaroundherwaistandaccentedinhergloves.
Butshehardlylooksthebroodingwidow.Infact,shelooksabit…crazed,watchingeveryentrancetothehallinturn.
Gwen’sratherafraidherneckmightsnap.
“Hello,”BethsaysasGwenfinallymusclesherwayuptothem.
“Youlookbeautiful,”Gwentellsher,laughingasBethflushes.“Asdoyou,LadyDemeroven.”
“Thankyou,dear,”LadyDemerovensays.“Youlooklovelyaswell.Greenbecomesyoufarmorethanthosepastels.Suchgorgeoushair.”
Gwenblinks,surprised.“Thankyou,mylady.”
LadyDemerovengivesheraquicksmileandthencontinuescraningherneck.GwentakesthatasadismissalandstepstoBeth’s
side,leaninginsotheycantalkmorequietlyasthepartybustlesaroundthem.
“Whoisshelookingfor?”
“LordMontson,”Bethsays,edgingawayfromLadyDemerovenasmuchasshecanwiththeirarmsstilllinked.
“Whateverfor?”
Bethfrowns,lookingupather.“Youdon’tlikehim?”
Gwenhesitates.There’snothingwrongwithLordMontson.Notmuchgreatabouthimeither.He’sentirely…neutralasa
person.“He’sfine,”shehedges.
Bethseemstorelax.“Good.He’saskedformyfirstdanceafterhittingmeinthebackwitharugbyball.”
“Hehityou?”Gwenasks,grabbingBeth’shand.
“Witharugbyball,”Bethrepeats,loudenoughthatthistimeGwencatchesthewholething.“Terribleshot,apparently.”
Gwensnorts.“Andyourmother’slettingyoudancewithhim?”
“Heasked,andinvitedusfordinner.Motherthinksit’sachanceatamatch,”Bethexplains,shiftingtorearrangeherhoop
sothey’reclosertogether.
“Isee,”Gwensays,lookingoutattheoverpackedroom.“That’s…good.”
“Yes,”Bethagrees,thoughGwenhearslittleenthusiasmthere.“Sowe’rewaitingforhimtoarrive.IthinkMother’sworried
ifIwanderofftheywon’teverfindme.”
“Youaretiny,”Gwenagrees,laughingasBethdropsherhandtowhackatherarm.“Adorablyso.”Bethpursesherlips,butGwencantellshe’stryingnottosmile.“Montson’stall.”
“Iknow,”Bethsays,hersmilefalling.“Imightactuallyhavetodanceonhisshoes.”
GwenlaughsandtakesbackBeth’shand.
“Doyouthinkshe’dreleaseyoujustlongenoughtogetsomewine?”Gwenasks,watchingasthehallcontinuestofill,more
thanenoughpeopletogetlostin.
Bethshrugsandleansbackintohermother.GwencanbarelyheartheirconversationbutmeetsLadyDemeroven’sgazeasshe
looksGwenover.
“…rightbackassoonasLordMontsonarrives.”
“Yes,Mother,”Bethsays,noddingseriouslybeforeturningandhustlingGwenaway,draggingheracrosstheroomforachange.
“Neverthoughtshe’dletgo,”Bethadmitsastheysnaketheirwayalongthewall,edgingaroundclustersofparentsanddebutantes
alike.
GwenwatchesBethmoveconfidentlythroughthecrowds.It’slikesomethingnewhascomeoverher,aconfidenceshedidn’t
havebefore.Gwenhopesit’snotjustbecauseMontsonaskedhertodance.
“Wasitawful?”
Gwenstartles.They’vemadeittotherefreshmentsalready.Bethpassesaglassofwineintoherhand;it’sherfavorite,
fromthebackofthetable.Shedidn’tevenhavetoask.
“What?”Gwenasksinelegantly.
Sheswigsbackalargesip.
Bethisheretogetahusband.That’sthepoint.Itshouldn’tbeanythingbutgoodthatshe’sfoundadancingpartner.ThoughitdoesmeannowGwenwillhavetorelinquishher,formostofthenightifLadyDemerovenhasherway.
“Wasyourfatherbadlyhurt?”
“Oh,”Gwensays,laughingalittle.“He’srecovered.Yourmother?”
“Onlywoundedprideonherend,”Bethsays,takingGwen’selbowtoleadthemtotheoppositesideofthehall.Theycanclearly
seeLadyDemerovenstillstandingbythesteps,nowropedintoconversationwithLordandLadyBarthelmis.Poorwoman,they’re
sinfullydull.
“Washeveryangry?”Bethasks,andGwen’sthoughtsslowasshecatchestheconcernonBeth’sface.
“No,”Gwensaysquickly,watchingasBeth’sshouldersrelax.“No,hewasn’tpleased,andhewaspissy,butnotmadatme,
notreally.”
“Good,”Bethsays.“Ihadwantedtocall,butMotherwouldn’thearofit,andthenyouweren’tatanyofourteasorgarden
parties.”
“IspentmostoftheweektrailingafterAlbie,”Gwenadmits.“Fatherwasn’tangry,butIthinkhewasabitputoffthesocial
events.Meredith’sfuntotalkto,atleast.”
“Sheis,”Bethagrees.“AndMr.Mason?”
“Absolutelysmitten,”Gwensays,smilingatthethought.“Bumblinglyso,actually.It’sveryfunny.”
“That’ssweet,”Bethsays,nudgingGwenasshelaughs.“Hedeservesit.”
“Hedoes,”Gwenagrees.“Andyou?Exhaustedbyallthemerriment?”
Bethnodsseriously.“It’sbeenlikeshe’spossessed,”Bethsays,glancingoveratLadyDemeroven,wholookseversobored.“ButIdidfindoutthatshehadasuitor,Ithink,inherfirstseason.”
Gwenhesitates.“Oh?”
“Afriend,shecalledhim.Butthewayshelookedwhenspeakingabouthim—Ithinkshefanciedhim.Butherfatherforbade
herfrommarryinghim.Idon’tknowifheeverproposed.”
Gwensighsasthewholeterribleportraitsettlesintoplace.Shecan’thatethewomanthen,canshe?ShecouldhateBeth’s
grandfather,shesupposes,forforbiddingthematch.
“Sheseemedrathersadaboutit,actually,”Bethsays.
“Ithinkitwasmyfather,”Gwensaysquickly,pushingitoutinarush.
“What?”
“Myfatherhadafriendhisfirstseasontoo.Mrs.Gilpethinksshebrokehisheart,buthesaiditwasn’tofanyimportance,
justafriend.”
“Mymotherbrokehisheart?”Bethasks,eyeswideanddismayed.
“It’snotherfault.Yousaidyourgrandfathersaidno.”
Bethnodsslowly.“Hewantedhertomarryafortuneandtitle.Myfather—”Shebreaksoffabruptly,trackingLadyDemeroven
acrosstheroom.
“Hegaveheratitleandafortune,”Gwencompletes,noticingherfathereyeingLadyDemerovenaswellfromtheotherend
ofthewall.“Sotheycouldn’tbetogether.”
“HeusedtomentionMother’sothersuitor,”Bethsayssoftly.
“Who?”
“Myfather.He’dteaseherwhenshewaswritingletters,wouldaskifshewaswritingtoherothersuitor.Motheralwaysplayeditoff,butIthinkitmadehersad.”
Gwenbitesbackthecommentthatwantstotearupherthroat.Howutterlycallous.ButBethisupsetenough.AndhereGwen’s
beenthinkingofthisentirelyforherself—thatFathermarryingwouldgivehergracetoforgetthemarriagemarket,atleast
forawhile.GiveherandBethachancetohavesomefunthisseason.
Butnow—nowtheymustgetthembacktogether.
BecauseiftheirseasonswereanythinglikeGwen’shavebeen,theydeservesomeresolutionafteralltheseyears.Shewants
Fathertobehappy—tohavesomeone.Godforbidshedoesgetmarriedsomeday,whatwouldhedoallalone,rattlingaroundtheir
manor?Hemayenjoypolitics,buteventhatcan’tsustainamanforever.Hedeservesachanceatlovetoo.
“Wehavetofixthis,”Bethsaysfirmly.
“Agreed.”GwenloopsherfreearmthroughBeth’s.“We’lljustneedtothinkofactivitiesthatrequirenocoordination.”
Bethlaughsandleansintoher.“Ifyou’dtoldmeyourplan,IcouldhavetoldyouMother’shopeless.”
“Yes,well,mybeingtheonlyconspiratorworksinourfavor.Shewon’tsuspectyou.Me,I’mgoingtohavetobeverycunning
togetanythingpastFathernow.”
“Hmm.WediscussedAscot,”Bethsaysslowly.
“That’sagesawaythough,”Gwensays,watchingasFathermovesabouttheroom,conductingbusinessbutalwaysorientedtoward
LadyDemerovensomehow.She’sneverseenhimlikethisbefore.It’ssweet,really.
“Riding?”Bethsuggests.
“Wecoulddothatwithotherchaperones,”Gwensays.“Doesyourmotherliketoride?”
“It’sourfavoritethingtodoatourcountryhome,”Bethsays,hervoiceabitlighteratthethought.“She’sexcellent.
Wecouldrace?”
“Oh,I’dliketoseeyoutwotryandbeatus.”
“Youthinkwecan’t?Wehadnothingbuttimeandlandmywholechildhood.IbetIcouldcantercirclesaroundyou.”
“Fathertaughtmetotrickride,”Gwencounters.
“Thatmusthavebeenfun,”Bethsays,lookingsogenuinethatGwencan’thelpbutsmile.
“Itwas.Icouldshowyousometime.Thereareloadsoftrickswecoulddotogether.”Beth’seyeslightup.“Maybeweconvince
ourparentstosupervise?”
Bethsighs.“IthinkMotherwouldhaveaheartattackifIdidthatinfrontofher.”
“Soonlysecrettrickridinglessonsthen?”
“Afraidso,”Bethsayssolemnly.
Theybothlaugh.
“Maybetheater?”Bethsuggests,pullingGwenfromthoughtsofsteadyingBethonthebackofanenormoushorse,ofthetwo
oftheminbreeches.
“Oh,thathaspromise,”Gwenagrees.“We’dhavetomakeitseemlikeacoincidencethough,haveourseatstogether.I’msure
Icanarrangesomething.”
“Excellent,”Bethsays,grinningupather,hercheeksabitflushed.She’shadalotofherwinealready.“Ilovethetheater,
butwe’verarelyattended.”
Gwen’sabouttosuggestafewupcomingperformanceswhenshenoticesLadyDemerovenlookingaroundwildlyforthem.SheseesMontsonandhismotherdescendingthestairs.
“Damn,IguessI’vegottogo,”Bethsays,slowlydisengagingfromGwen.
Gwenpastesonasmile.“Dancepretty,”shesays,tryingtobesupportive.
“Youtalktoyourfather—pickaplay.I’llbeback,”Bethpromises.“I’dmuchratherdrinkwithyou,”sheaddsasshepasses
overherwineglassbeforescurryingacrosstheroom.
Gwenwatcheshergoandsidlesbacktoleanagainstthewall,outofthefrayascouplesstartlininguptodance.Shecan
seeLadyDemerovenandBethbowingtoMontsonandhismother.CountessAshmond’sfaceseemsperpetuallysetinafrown,but
MontsonlooksdelightedtoseeBeth.Whowouldn’tbe?
Gwenswigsthelastofherwineandplacesitdownonasidetable,slouchingintothewalltobeginnursingtherestofBeth’s
glass.Somuchforafunevening.
ShewatchesasMontsonbringsBethoutontothefloor.They’reanabsurdmatchinheight,butwithhissharpjawandhercheekbones,
shesupposesthechildrenwouldn’tbeterribletolookat.They’datleasthavesomechanceatheight.
Thebandbeginstoplayandshefollowsthecoupleastheywaltzaroundtheroom.Beth’sverygraceful,andMontson’snoslouch.
He’snogreattalenteither,though,andGwensighs,swallowingthelastofBeth’swine.Bethdeservessomuchmorethanmediocre
LordMontson.Hisfortunemaybesuitablyvast,butshe’llbeboredtotears.Beth,withherloveforShakespeare,andduets,
andchess,andriding,coopedupwithhisdyspepticmotherupnorth—whatawaste.
TheAshmondlandsaresomethingtobehold,atleast.SheremembersstoppingonceonatripwithFather.HegotalongwithLordMontson’sgrandfather,thelateEarlofAshmond.TheyhuntedwhileGwenandMontsonroamedaroundthegardens.ShethinksFatherandthelateearlusedtotakemealstogetherintown,even.Ofcourse,whenLordMontson’sfathertookovertheseatinparliament,hecompletelyreversedeverysingleoneofthelateearl’spositions.Theynevervisitedtheestateagain.
ItmakesGwenuncomfortable,watchingBethandMontsontalking,evenlaughing.Bethlooksforalltheworldlikeshe’shaving
awonderfultime.God,butwhatifshereallylikeshim?Whatif,toBeth,LordMontsonisatruecatch?Withonlyherhorrible
fatherasreference,GwencouldunderstandhowMontsonmightseemmorethanadequate.
“That’sashame.”
GwenjumpsasFatherslipsinbesideher.“Announceyourself,”shegrumbles.Hepluckstheemptywineglassfromherhand.
“Andwhat’sashame?”
“YousaidMissDemeroven’squitetheconversationalist.She’dbeboredtodeathwiththeAshmonds.”
“Yes,”Gwenagrees.
“Itwouldbeagoodmatchforherthough,”hesays,leaningbackintothewallbesideher.“Shecoulddoworse.”
“Shecoulddobetter,”Gwensaystightly,unnervedbytheclutchMontsonhasonBeth’swaist.
Sheknowsrationallythatit’ssimplythatBethhasatinyfigureandMontsonisabroadman.Butitlookslikehewantsto
possessher—likehecouldsqueezetheliferightoutofherifhewantedto.
ShelooksacrosstheroomandnoticesLadyDemerovenwatchingthepairwithagleaminhereye.She’ssureBeth’smotherwilldoeverythingpossibletoensureamatch.Gwensupposesit’swhatanypracticalmotherwoulddo.Evenstill—
“She’llbewelltakencareof,”Fathersayssoftly.
“Shecouldbehappyinstead,”Gwenargues,glancinguptofindherfatherlookingacrossatLadyDemeroven.“Wouldn’tyou
ratherIwashappythansecure?”
Fatherblinksandthenmeetshergaze.“I’dratheryoubeboth,”hesaysseriously.
Gwenswallowsatthelookonhisface.“I’lltry,”shesaysafteramoment.Henodsandlooksbackoutattheroom.“Could
youhavebeenhappy,withLadyDemeroven?”
Fatherstillsatherlackoftact.Shebitesherlipandturnshergazebacktothefloor.ThewaltzendsandMontsonbrings
Bethovertotheirparents,hishandstillonthesmallofherback.BethglancesoverhershoulderatGwenandGwentakes
astepforward,thinkingrashlyshemightjointheirlittlecircle.
Father’shandsnagsherownandpullsherback.Gwenlooksupathimandseesmoreonhisfacethanshe’ssurehemeansto
show.
“Happinessisnottheonlythingthatmatters,”hesays,hisvoicetight.
“But—”Gwensays,glancingbackatBeth.
“LadyDemerovenhasasolidheadonhershoulders,asdidherfather.Iwasnoprizeatthetime.”
“Butyouarenow,”Gweninsists.
Fathersmilesandpullsherintowraphisarmaroundhershouldersastheywatchthenextroundofdancerspairoff.“Iappreciate
that.”
“Ifshe’djusthadsomefaith,”Gwenmutters.
Fathershakeshishead.BothofthemwatchasLadyDemerovenlaughsatsomethingLordMontsonhassaid,everymovementchoreographed
andpracticed.“Faithdoesn’tpaybills,”Fathersayssoftly.
Gwenlooksupathimandwatcheshimshuttersomethingaway.Itlooksalotlikeheartbreak—thecreaseofhisbrow,thearc
ofhisfrown,thesheenonhiseyes.
Theyhavetofixthis.Theycan’tlettheendoftheirparents’storybethisheartache.
SheandFathercan’tbothendthisseasonheartbroken.Oneofthemdeservesahappyending.
“Ah,Albie,”Fathersays,andGwenblinksasAlbiestepsuptothem,blockingherviewofBethandhermother,andthehandsome,
dullviscountwhomayvieforBeth’shand.“Whydon’tyouandGwentakeaspin,ifyouthinkLadyMeredithwon’tmind.”
“Ofcourse,”Albiesays,holdingouthishandforGwen.
Shetakesit,hercheststilltight.Whyshouldshebeheartbrokenbytheendofthisseason?Bethgettingmarriedwouldbe
theproperoutcome,afterall.
ChapterSevenBeth
Bethholdshermother’sarmastheyshufflebeneaththewhitecolumnsoutsidetheAdelphiTheatre,tryingtostaytogether
despitethepushofthecrowd.TheirskirtsarebuffetedthiswayandthatandBethhearsMothercursingunderherbreath.
It’sonlymorecrowdedwhentheyfinallymakeitfromthehazystreetoutsideintothenarrowentryofthetheater.
Thedarkredvelvetwallsandgoldentasselsmakethespaceseemevensmaller,andamidallthehoopsandtophats,Bethforgets
abouttheirplans,simplyfollowingMotherasshechargesthroughthecrowdanduptothefirstmezzanine.Thetonisall
atwitter,excitedforthebenefitperformance,manyofthemencrowingabouthowmuchthey’vedonatedinhonorofCélineCéleste.
MotherandBethwerethesurprisedrecipientsoftwoticketsdonatedbytheHarringtons.Meredithisathomewithhermother,
who’stakenill.
BethhasnoideahowGwenmanagedthat,orifchancereallydidjustfallintotheirlaps.Butshepromisedshe’darrangeit,andarrangeitshehas.Nowit’sBeth’sjobtosituatethemintherightseats,iftheycaneversqueezetheirwaythrough.Forallitsbenefits,thehoopskirtisratherimpracticalinapressofbodies,andevenwithoutaloadofpetticoats,bythetimetheygettotheirsectioninthemezzanine,bothofthemaresweatingandheavingforair.
“Idon’tknowwhyyoutalkedmeintothis,”MothermuttersasBethguidesherdowntotheirthankfullyemptyrow.
“Yes,thiswasmyplan,”Bethsays,shootingheralookbeforecomingtoastop.“Thisisus,”sheannounces,motioningMother
forward.Theyshufflebetweentheseatsallthewayacrosstherow,leavingMotherbesidetheloneemptyseatattheend.
“ThankGod,”Mothersaysastheyfinallyplopdown,oratleasttry.
Twominutesofshiftingandthey’vesettledtheirskirtsaroundtheirlegs,twistedtoprovideasmuchroomoneitherside
aspossible.It’sstilltoocloseforcomfort,butBethforcesasmile,determinedtomakethemostofthis.
HerenthusiasmfortheeveningismostlyaboutherplanswithGwen,butthere’sasmallthrillatthethoughtofseeinglive
theater.Fatherusedtotakethemonceeverylongwhile,butsuchgoodseatsatsuchalavishpremierewouldhavebeenunthinkable.
Certainlyifithadbeentheirmoneyontheline,theywouldn’tbeheretonight.She’llneedtothankLadyHarringtonfor
thehonor.
“Doesthissaywhattheplayisabout?”Motherwondersaloud,flippingthroughhercrinkledprogram.
Bethleansovertogetalook,havinglosthersintheshuffle,andthenspotsGwenandLordHavenfortacrosstheseatblock.
Shewaves,notingMotherlookingupinherperiphery.Thatfrowndoesn’tbodewell.
Gwengamelybeginsscootingbetweentheseats,herdemurenavyskirtscurledexpertlytoallowherroomtomaneuver.ClearlyGwenandLordHavenfortfrequentthetheater.Gwen’sgriniscontagious,andBethbeamsback.ShelaughswhenGwenplopsdramaticallydownbesideher.
“Horridgettinguphere,isn’tit?”Gwensays,beforeglancingbackatherfatherandratherobviouslycheckingtheseatnumber.
“Ohdear,Beth,areyouinFather’sseat?”
“Sheisn’t,”Mothersaysimmediatelybeforetighteningherjaw.Thatcameoutratherhardandfast.
“Wechecked,”Bethsaysapologetically,glancingupasLordHavenfortreachesGwen’sside.“What’syournumber,LordHavenfort?”
“Ten,”hesays,glancingathisticket.
“Oh,that’snexttoMother,”Bethsayssweetly,ignoringGwen’snot-so-subtlenudge.
“Wecanjustscootdown,”Mothersays.
Bethbitesherlips,glancingoveratMother,butshe’sstrugglingalreadytomoveherskirts.Thegroupwaitsabeat,and
Bethholdsherbreath,fearingthatMotherwillmanagetofreeherselfandtheirplanswillbedashed.Buttheirlackoftheater
experienceinthenewhoopskirtsseemstoprevailandMotherhuffs,entirelystuck.
“Whydon’tyousitbesideLadyDemeroven,”Gwensaysinnocently,lookingbackupatherfather.“It’lltakeallthreeofus
agestomoveourskirts.”
LordHavenfortfrowns,lookingdownatthem,squishedintotheirseats,hoopsonlyjustsettledintoplace.“Yes,allright.
Don’tbother,LadyDemeroven,really,”headds,noddingtoMotherbeforeturningonhisheeltoexittheotherendofthe
row.
“Thesepreposterousskirts,”Motherhisses,shiftinginherseat.“Ridiculous.”
“We’llgetbetteratthem,”Bethplacates.
“Isuppose,butonecan’tevenmove.Yourfathershouldn’thavetodoacrobaticssimplytotakehisseat,”Mothersays,leaning
aroundBethtolookatGwen.
“Hedoesn’tmind,”Gwensays,smilingbrightlybackather.“Andhe’llbemuchbetterbehavedwithyou.Heheckles.”
“What,youdon’tegghimon?”Bethreturns,swattingherarmandlaughingasGwenblushes.
“She’sworsethanIam.”
TheyallturntofindaslightlywindedLordHavenfortstandingattheotherendoftherow.
“Andwhosefaultisthat?”Gwensays.
HerollshiseyesandsitsdownnexttoMother.“Mrs.Gilpe’s,”LordHavenfortsays.
“Anaunt?”Motherasks,andBethhastoclenchherjawtokeepfromlaughingatthesurprisedlookonMother’sface,asif
thequestionjustpoppedoutonitsown.
“Housekeeper.Youmetheronce,”LordHavenfortsaysidly,flippingthroughhisprogram.
“Yes,withyourmaid.Lovelywomen,”Motheragrees,staringstraightahead.
ButLordHavenfortdoesn’tseemtonotice.“Oh,blast,Ididn’trealizethiswasaWebsterrole.”
“Really?”Gwenasks,slumpingbesideBeth.
“What…doyouhaveagainstBenjaminWebster?”Bethasks,glancingbetweenthem.“Isn’thethetalkoftheton?Theyhad
abenefitforhimearlierthisyeartoo.”
“He’sanabsolutecad,”LordHavenfortproclaims.
Bethlooksdownatherlap,lipbetweenherteeth.TheHavenfortscertainlyaremoreworldlythantheyare.
“Youwouldknow,”shehearsMothersayunderherbreath.
BethwincesandGwenhuffsasthelightsbegintodim.
“Wouldyouliketohithimwithacroquetmallettoo,then,orwasthatjustforme?”shehearsLordHavenfortwhisper.
“Thiswasamistake,”BethhissestoGwen,slippingherarmthroughGwen’samidthecoughingandrustlingofprogrampages.
“Giveittime,”Gwensays,herelbowsqueezingBeth’stohersidealittlejerkilybeforesheshifts,slouchingdownbeside
hersotheirheadsareatthesameheight.
“Intentionallyhittingamanwithacroquetmalletwouldbebattery,wouldn’tit?Ican’tabandonBethtotheseasonalone.”
Bethturns,staringathermotherwithwideeyes.Gwenstiflesalaugh.LordHavenfortgapesatMother,whosimplyflipsa
pageinherprogramasifshe’scommentedontheweather.ButBethcanseealittletilttohermouth.
“That’syouronlyhesitation,MissDemeroven’sseason?”
“Andprison,Isuppose.Thoughtheymightletmeoffwithawarning,don’tyouthink?”Motherwonders,glancingatLordHavenfort.
Thescandalizedlookonhisfacecracksherandshelaughs.
Hefrownsbeforeshakinghishead.“You’vealwaysbeenincorrigible.”
“Oneofmybettercharms,”Motheragrees.
“DespiteFather’sopinion,”BethmutterstoGwen.
Gwennudgesher.“Myfatherclearlythinksit’scharming.”
“Whatareyougirlswhisperingabout?”LordHavenfortaskswhilethefinalstragglersmaketheirwayintothehall,mutteringexcuses.
“Beththinksit’llbeamoralityplay.Ithinkitwillbeamurder,”Gwensayssmoothly.
“Mmm,Ivoteboth,”LordHavenfortsays.“LadyDemeroven?”
“Oh,Ihopeit’snotamoralityplay,”Mothersays.“Dreadfullydull.”
“Sometimesthey’refun,”Bethargues.“Ifthere’senoughthat’sexcitingbeforethemoralizingkicksin.”
“Gwen,Ithinkyou’vefoundagoodfriend,”LordHavenfortsays.Gwengrins
“WhatdidIsay?”Bethwonders.
“Gwenisallforthebloodsportandscandal,andthenshe’llsufferamoralityplay.Ifindtheminterestingwithout.”
“Onlybecauseyouliketodeconstructthestory.You’venomoreroomformoralsthanBenjaminWebster,”Mothersaysstiffly.
“Timehasnotdulledyouredge,hasit?”LordHavenfortasks.
MothershrugsandBethsettlesbackinherseat,dejected.Ithadseemeditwasgoingratherwell.Sportingly,butwell.But
Motherhashermindsetondislikingtheman,it’sclear.Andoncehermindissetit’simpossibletomoveher.
Thelightsgodowntotheirlowestandthecurtainsopenbelowthemontheproscenium.
“Ishouldnothaveshoutedatyou.Thecompetitionbroughtouttheworstinme,”LordHavenfortwhispers.
“Itdid,”Motheragrees.“Ididn’tintendtohityouwiththemallet,forwhatit’sworth.”
LordHavenfortchuckles.“That’ssomething.”
Mothersitsupprimly,thematterapparentlysettled.Thetwostudiouslyavoidlookingateachotherandturntheirattentiontotheproduction.
GwensighsandBethshiftsclosertoher.“Notasbadasitcouldhavebeen?”shewhispers.
“Isuppose,”Gwenagrees.“Toetotoethough.”
Bethnods,leaningintoGwenandforcingherselftofocusonthestageratherthantheirquarrelsomeparents.
It’snotamurder,andthemoralsareratherobvious,butBethenjoysthecharactersandrelationshipsofGeorgeDarville.DespiteLordHavenfort’sopinionoftheman,BenjaminWebstergivesanexcellentportrayalofamandriventodespairby
guilt.AndCélineCélesteisradiantasMarion.BethfindsherselfcaptivatedbyCéleste’sexpressions—thewaysheturnsfrom
joytogrief,movesthroughangerandbetrayal—it’sincredible.
“She’sbeautiful,”Gwenwhispers.
“Yes,”Bethagrees,alittleawestruck.She’sneverseenawomanembodyacharactersocompletelybefore.“Itfeelssoreal.”
“I’dliketoclouthim,”Gwensays.
“Triphimdownthestreet.”
“Acroquetmallettothefamilyjewelsmightbewarranted,”Gwenreturns.
Bethgiggles,bitingatherlipasMothershushesthem.Gwensnickersnexttoher.
“Incorrigible,youare,”Gwenwhispers.
BethswatsatherkneeandGwennudgesback.Beth’ssmiledoesn’tleaveherfacefortherestoftheperformance,andthey
continuetowhisperthroughout.Gwen’sdelightisinfectious.
Whenthecurtaingoesdown,theaudienceexplodesinapplause.BethandGwenstruggletotheirfeet,tuggingateachother’sskirtstostandwiththerestoftheassembled.Theyclapenthusiastically,beaming.Gwenevenwhoops.
Bethglancesoverattheirparentsonlytofindtheminaheateddebatealready.
“Ohdear,”shesays,realitycrashingbackinonher.SheelbowsGwen,wholeansaroundherindismay.
“Ijustdon’tseewhyshehadtodie,”LordHavenfortexclaims.
“It’snotatragedywithoutadeath,”Motherreplies.
“WhynotmakeheraLadyM?Acoconspirator.Wouldn’tthathavebeenmoreentertaining?”
“Atoneofthepremieretheaters,youexpectamodernLadyM?Itwouldbeascandal.”
“Betterascandalthanamoralistic,heavy-handed,self-aggrandizing—”
“Doesnothingpleaseyou?”Motherreturns,hervoiceringingaroundthemeventhroughtheapplause.
“Father,peoplearestaring,”Gwenhisses.
LordHavenfortputsuphishands.ButheandMothercontinuetoglareateachother.Theyturnbacktowardthestage,grudgingly
clappingalong.
“Thoughhedoeshaveapoint,”GwenmutterstoBethassheleansbackintoplace.
“Sheshouldhavetakenthemoneyandrun.Fartoogoodforhim,”Bethagrees,shiftingawayfromMotherlestshehear.
Shecan’timagineMotherapprovedofCélineCéleste’scharacterdying,justthatshe’sawarethatmakinghercomplicitinthelong-termconofusingstolenmoneytoimproveherhusband’sstationwouldn’tsitwellwiththesocietyset.Honestly,LordHavenfort’sproposalsoundslikeamuchmoreinterestingplay.Notthatthiswasbad,byanymeans.Butreally,thewomandyingofgriefbecauseherhusbandgaveheragoodlife,evenifthroughdubiousmeans?
Thecurtainscloseonthebows,andBethturnsherattentiontotryingtosqueezeherwaythroughtheseats.Gwenbendsdown
andhelpsBethtwistherhoop.Bethsmilesandtakesherhandgratefullyastheycleartheseatsandscurryupbehindtheir
parents.Gwen’spalmissweatyinherown.Theyshufflealong,exchangingwincesinthepushofthecrowd.
“Justsayyouagreewithme.”
“Iwillnot.”
BethgroansandGwensqueezesherhand.Theirparentscontinuetobickerallthewaydownthestairsandintothelobby.Even
asLordHavenfortgallantlytakesMother’sarmtoleadherontothestreet,he’sneedlingher,insistingsheagree.
“Dogged,isn’the?”Bethwonders.Theyfollowthroughtheopenlobbydoorsandontothestreet,traipsingdowntojointhe
linequeuingforhiredcoaches.
“Decidedly,”Gwenagreeswithasigh.“Butspeakingisbetterthannot.Ithinkyourmotherenjoysit,really.”
“Possibly,”Bethsays,scrutinizingtheclenchofhermother’sjaw—whetherthat’sallangerandindignation,orhertrying
tohideabitofasmirk.Shedoesliketoargue.
BethandGwenspendapleasantfewminuteswatchingthecrowdandexchangingthoughtsontheplay.It’sthefreestBeth’s
feltindays,andit’sglorious.Eveniftheirparentsaren’tquitegettingalong,thisisfarbetterthananythingelsethey’ve
donethisweek.AndsurelyfarbetterthananytimespentwithLordMontson.
Gwen’shandiswarminhersandtheircheeksarebothpinkfromlaughingastheywhisperaboutCélineCéleste.Beththinksit’spossibleCélineandWebsterarehavinganaffair;theirpassionwassoreal.ButGwen’sconvincedCélineisfartoogoodforhimandwouldneverstooptosleepingwithacad.BethnudgesherandGwenjustgrins,brighteyedandstandingascloseasshecanagainstthewind.
“Allrightfine!”Motherexclaims.
“Hah!”LordHavenfortgrins.“You’refartoointelligenttoenjoysomethingsopatronizing.”
Motherrollshereyesandpullsherarmfromhis.Beth’snotsurehowtheymadeittothefrontofthequeuesoquickly.She’s
beentoodistracted,gigglingwithGwenandmakingupanincreasinglyexcitingromanticlifeforCélineCéleste.Shewants
tostayinthispeaceful,playfulmomentlonger.
“You’reahorriblesnob,youknow,”MothersaysasshereachesbackforBeth.
BethholdsontoGwen,noteagertobepartedjustyet.They’vebarelyhadanytimetogetherasitis.“Mother,couldn’twe—”
“You’veanimportantpromenadeinthemorning.Comealong,we’llleaveyourfriendtoherfather’sboasting.Myapologies,
LadyGwen.”
Gwensnortsandthencovershermouth.LordHavenfortlaughsandstepsbacktotakeGwen’sarm.Gwenholdsontothetips
ofBeth’sfingersandsqueezes,beforelettinggowithachagrinedsmileasthetwoofthemarepulledapartbytheirparents.
“Goodevening,LadyDemeroven,MissDemeroven,”LordHavenfortsays,tippinghishat.
Mothersimplyrollshereyes,butBethsmilesbackandthenletsMothertughertothefrontoftheline.Motherstepsupfirst,smilingdemurelyatthefootmanhelpingeveryoneintothecarriages,asifshehasn’tjustspentthelasttenminutessnipingatoneofthemosttitledmeninthecity.
BethglancesbackatGwen,whogivesherasubtlethumbs-up,andthenletsherselfbehandedintothecarriageafterMother.
Theysettleontooppositeseatsandthecarriagelurchesforward.
“Whatahorrid,smugman,”Mothersays,brushingatherslightlydisheveledcurls.
Bethnodsabsently,watchingMotherlookoutthewindow.Itmaynothavebeenaroaringsuccess—nomoonylooks,nosimpering
orflirtation—butBeththinksMotherdothprotestabittoomuch.
***
It’shotagain.Thesunbeatsdownonthemandevenherbonnetcan’tquitekeepthelightfromhereyes.Bethhastosquint
everytimeshelooksupatLordMontson.Andsincehewon’tstoptalkingabouthisracinghorses,she’sforcedtostareinto
itsbrightnessoverandover.
Bethnodsattherightmoments,fakingasmile,evenasshe’dliketointerrupttorequesttheytakeaseatanywhereatall.
Thegrass.Ontheriverbank.Evenrighthereonthepathwouldbenice.ButLordMontsondoesn’tseemtonotice.Sheglances
overhershoulderattheirmothers,followingthematadiscreetdistance.Butthetwowomenlookutterlyunaffectedbythe
blindingsunandtherisingheat,avidlywatchingthepairofthem.
BethsighsquietlyandhumsasLordMontsondescribesthelastracehischampionstallionwon.ShethinksmaybehesaiditsnameisRacepoint.Ratheronthenose,really.
It’snotthatpromenadingwithLordMontsoniswhollyunpleasant.Otherthanhisobsessionwithracehorses,he’spoliteand
interestingenough.Andheseemsrathertakenwithher,allthingsconsidered.Thisistheirsecondpromenadethisweek.Her
feethurt.
LordMontsonchucklesathisownjoke,somethingaboutdivots,andsmilesasheglancesather.Shewishesshecouldtalk
toGwen.Theireveningatthetheaterseemsmonthsago,evenifitwasonlyafewdays.Intheinterimit’sbeenalltrips
tothemodiste,andtheflorist,andmorningcallstomothersinLadyAshmond’scircletogettheirapprovals.Notimefor
purelysocialcallsorfriendshiporanythingfun.
BethjustwantstositdownwithGwenandaskhowonearthshe’ssupposedtosurvivemoreofthis.Everysingleinteraction
Bethhasisdiscussedwithhermotheradnauseum.Shemustthinkaboutherlaughandherpostureandthestoriesshecantell.
Everythingmustbeenticingandalluring,andGodforbidsheshowanytruehumanemotionorexhaustion.Ladiesarenothing
butgratefulformaleattention.
Itdoesn’tseemtobotherLordMontsoneither.He’saffablealways—thepictureofeasycountenanceandgooddisposition.Though
Bethsupposesitprobablydoesn’tmattermuchtohim.He’llbeearloneday,whetherhemarriesherornot.Beth,ontheother
hand,hasjustoneshotatbeinghiscountess,asMotherhasremindedhereverysinglemorningthisweek.
“Myapologies,MissDemeroven.I’vegoneonaboutmyhorsesforquiteawhile,haven’tI?”
BethlooksupatLordMontson,shakenfromherbroodythoughts.“It’sinteresting,”shelies.
Hesmilesather.Heisaveryhandsomeyoungman.Shewishesitinspiredmoreinher.ButthoughMotherhasteasedherabout
herexhaustion,suggestingit’sbecauseshe’supatnightdaydreamingaboutLordMontson,she’sfeltnothingbutindifference
abouthimsincetheball.
EvenMotherseemstofeelmoreforLordHavenfortwhentheyarguethanBethdoesforLordMontsononalovelystroll.
Shouldn’tshebeswooning?He’sswoon-worthy,shecantell.Butthere’snoswooninher.
“Tellme,whatcouldyoudiscussforhours?”heasks.
“I’msurenothingofinterest,”Bethsaysimmediately.
“Ihighlydoubtthat,”LordMontsonsays,givingheranencouraginglook.“Youngladiesaresoaccomplished—muchmoreaccomplished
thanIcouldeverhopetobe.Afterall,Isimplyownthehorses—thejockeyshavealltheskill.Youmusthavesomethingyou
enjoy.Please,it’syourturntogoon.”
Bethlaughsalittleatthat.“Iquitelikechess,Isuppose,”sheadmits.
“Youdo?”
Helookssosurprised.Isthatnotsomethingyoungladiesoftenenjoy?“MotherandIusuallyplayatleastonegameaday,
andduetsaswell.I’mdecentatneedlepoint.”
“I’veneverhadthedexterityforneedlework,”LordMontsonsaysseriously.
“Itwouldhurtyourback,”shesayssolemnly.
Hesnorts.“Isuppose.What’syourfavoritethingyou’veeverdoneinneedlepoint?”
Bethlooksacrossthelake,surprisedbythequestion.Thetrueanswer—whatshe’dtellGwen—isaprofanelimerickthathadMothershoutingforalmostthirtyminutes.Ofcourse,Motherthenpromptlyhungitinherdrawingroombehindthechaise,soshecouldlookatitandlaughwithoutFatherknowing.
“I’vedoneafewoftheviewofourgardens,”Bethsaysinstead.“Andtheforest.Idon’tracehorses,butIdoquitelike
riding,andI’vememorizedmorethanoneofthetrails.”
“Iloveforests!”
Bethmeetshiseyes,tryingnottolaughatthepinkinhischeeks.“Idotoo.”
“They’resopeaceful,”hesays,hisvoicelowerandmoreseriousevenasthatflushcreepsupfromhiscollartoo.
“Ialwayswantedasecrettreehouse,”Bethsays,feelinglikesheoweshimsomeadmissionaswell.
“Really?”LordMontsonasks,hisembarrassmentfadinginlightofwhatseemslikegenuineinterest.He’sasweetboy.
Bethshrugsasshefiddleswithhergloves.“Therewereafewspotsonourlandsthatwouldhavebeenperfect,butFather
wasneverhomelongenoughtoseeitcommissioned.I’dstillliketodoitsomeday,”shecontinues,thinkingofthatdappled
littleclearingwiththeenormousoaktree.“Ofcourse,they’renotmylandsanymore.”
“Wecoulddoitonmine,”LordMontsonsays.
Bethlooksupathim,surprised.“Oh?”
“Icanthinkofafewgoodspots.Wouldbeniceforthechildren.”
ThatmakesherchesttightenandBethforcesasmile.She’snotsureatallthatshewantshischildren,northatshewantsherfabledtreehouseonhislands.Neverherlands.Shewon’thaveherownlandsafterthisatall,eveniftheydomarry.Evenifhecomesintoathousandacres,theywon’tbehers.
Justthen,MotherandLadyAshmondcatchuptothem.BethcurtsiesasLadyAshmondmakestheirapologies.LordAshmondhas
adinnerforsomeofthesittingLords,andtheymustgetback.
“SomuchfussaboutthissillyMatrimonialCausesAct,”LadyAshmondsaystoMother.“Asifweneedtochangethewholeshape
ofmarriage.”
“Mother,”LordMontsonadmonishes.
BethremembersMothermentioninghowinfavorsheisoftheact.Yetanotherthingthey’llhavetohidefromtheearl,along
withthedirestateoftheirfortune,andherownintensedislikeofherring.
“I’dmuchratherwalkanotherfewmileswithyou,”LordMontsontellsBeth.
Bethsmiles,anditalmostdoesn’tfeelforced.Sheacceptshiskisstoherhandandthenwatchesashetakeshisleave,bowing
tohermotherbeforeescortinghisownaway.
“Thatwentwell,”MothersaysasshestepsuptotakeBeth’sarm.
Bethleansintoherandtheyheadintheoppositedirection.“Didit?”shewonders.
“Helookedgenuinelyregretfulofleavingyou,”Motherreplies.
Bethshrugs.ShethinkshercompanyiscertainlybetterthanmostoftheLords’,atleasttheoneswhousedtovisitFatherinthecountry.Theyweren’tinfavoroftheacteither,ifsheremembers.Noneofthemseemedtothinkawomanmighthaveanyreasontoleaveamarriageunlessshewasbeingbeatenbloody,andthereforetheysawnoreasontoremovearbitrationfromthechurch’sclutches.
“DoyouthinkiftheMatrimonialActhadbeenpassedyoumighthave—”
“Theviscountseemsalovelyyounggentleman.Tellme,whatdidyoudiscuss?”
BethpursesherlipsasMotherstaresstraightahead,walkingjustabitfasterthanbefore.Heavenforbidtheytalkofanything
butLordMontson.
“He’snice,”Bethallows.
“Heseemsfarmorethannice,”Mothersays,promptingherwithalittlenudge.
“He’sfine,”Bethsays,alittlelouderthanshemeansto.AfewoldermotherslooktheirwayandBethblushes.“There’snothing
badabouthim.”
“Aglowingreview.”
“Idon’tknow,Mother,”Bethclipsback,frustratedbyherowndisinterest.
There’sabsolutelynothingwrongwithLordMontson.Andyetthere’sjust…nothingthere.Shefeelsempty,likeshe’s
observingherselfbecourtedfromafar.
Theywalksilentlyforalongwhile,crossingmostofthepark.She’scomingtohatethisplace,evenwiththepinkflowers
bloomingontheshrubsandthethickgreenoftheleavesthatthrowintricatepatternsontothemanicuredgrass.Shewishes
shecouldridethroughtheirforestpathsinstead.
“Shoulditfeellikemore?”sheasks,thinkingofLordMontson’skindoffertobuildherthetreehouseshe’salwayswanted.
Howhollowitlefther.
“More?”
“He’sperfectlylovely,”Bethadmits.“Just…it’sonlypleasant.Shoulditfeellikemorethanthat?”
“Pleasantismorethanmanywomeneverget,”Mothersaysimmediately,beforeturningpensive.
“SoIshouldbehappywithmylot,”Bethdeduces,swallowingagainstarushofdisappointment.
Motheropenshermouthafewtimes,butdoesn’tseemtocomeupwithanythingtosayastheywalkthefewblocksbacktotheir
townhouse.Bethsagsagainsther,adeepmelancholysettlingoverhershoulders.Sheshouldbegrateful,butshejustfeels
crossanddisappointed.
Astheyheadinsideandremovetheirbonnets,sheconsidershermother.SurelyshewantsmoreforBeth.Surelyshewanted
moreforherself.
“WasiteverpleasantwithFather?”Motherstills,herhandcurlingaroundhergloves,knucklesgoingwhite.“Wereyousatisfied
withjustpleasant?ShouldIbegratefulhedoesn’tyell,likeFatherdid?”
“Beth,”Mothersays,hervoicetakingonthatedgethatcomeswithexhaustionandexasperation.
“GwensaysLordHavenfort’snevercrosslikeFatherwas.Thatevenwhenhe’smad,he’skindaboutit.Couldyoutellthat
Fatherwouldbefrightening?Washepleasantbeforeheturnedintoabrute?”
“Beth,”Mothersnaps,hervoicehard.
“Shouldn’tIatleastmakesureLordMontsonwillbekind?Evenifhe’sarake,LordHavenfo—”
“Ofcourseheisn’t,”Motherletsout,hervoiceringingaroundthenarrowfoyer.“Thereisn’tameanboneinDashiell’sbody.
He’saffable,andkind,andfrighteninglyfair.”
Bethstares,lostforwords.Motherrunsahandthroughherhair,tuggingitdownfromitssweatywrapsoherhairpinsfallandpingagainstthefloor.
“AndI’msorrythatIcouldn’tmodeltheidealmarriageforyou,andthatmychoicescontinuetobeadisappointment.But
LordMontsonisakindboy,whosefather,whileablowhard,hasnoreputationforthekindofdrinkingyoursdid.You’dbe
luckytomarryintotheAshmondfamily.It’smorethanIcouldeverhavehopedfor.Begrateful,”sheinsists,beforeturning
onherheelandstormingupthestairs,leavingBethaloneintheringingsilenceleftbehindher.
Bethspendsthenextfewhoursontheprecipiceoftears,unsurewhetherthey’reforherselforhermother.Allsheknows
isapervasivesadnesshassettledoverthewholehousehold.EvenMissWilsoncan’tquitemusterasmileoridlechatteras
shehelpsBethdressfordinner.
IfhermotherreallydidloveLordHavenfort,andwasforcedtomarryherfatherinstead,thensheleftloveforpsychological
torture.ShealwayssaysBethwaswortheverycruelwordherfatheruttered,butthatcan’tbetrue.
Hewashorrible.Vindictive.Sheneversawhimhithermother,andMother’sneverdiscussedit,butsheknowstherewasoccasionalviolence.HeneverstruckBeth,though
shethoughthemightmorethanonce.Whatwouldhethink,toseehersoconflictedoversuchanadvantageousmatch?
Bethshakesherselfassheentersthelonelydiningroom.Mother’salreadyseatedattheheadofthetable,frowningdown
intoherfish.Whatherfatherwouldthinkdoesn’tmatter,butwhathermotherthinksstilldoes.Shesufferedalifetime
forBeth.Bethcansufferthenextfewmonths,can’tshe?
“I’msorry,”BethwhispersasshesitsdownonMother’sleft.
Motherlooksupandmeetshereyes,herownslightlybloodshot.Shemadehermothercry.
“It’sallright,sunshine,”Mothersays,reachingouttosqueezeherhand.“Thisishard.”
Bethnods,alumpinherthroat.“I’mstillsorry.”
“SoamI,”Mothersayssoftly.“Now,eatup.Idon’tknowaboutyou,butIthinkIsweatmybodyweightonthatwalk.Mygoodness,
canthatwomanblatheron.”
Bethlaughsdespiteherselfandreachesuptowipeatherwateryeyes.Shetakesalargeswigofwine,andnearlychokes.
Shelooksdownintotheglassandrealizesit’safulltumblerofbrandy.
“Iraidedyourfather’sliquorcabinet.Thoughtweneededit,”Mothersayswithashrug.
Bethcoughsandthentakesanothersip,lettingtheburnofthealcoholwashawayhermelancholy.“Couldhavedonewithsome
onthewalk,”shesays,smilingasMothersnorts.
“I’msureLordMontson’smuchmoreengagingthanhismother.”
“Heis,”Bethagrees.“AndI—you’reright,Ishouldbe—Iamgrateful,thathe’sinterested.I’lltrymybest.”Shesaysit
willingly,buttheknotinherstomachtwiststighter.
AboringlifewithLordMontsonwouldn’tbetheworstthingintheworld.AndperhapssheandMothercouldstillridetogether
daily.IfMothercouldstandseeingLadyAshmondthatoften.
Theysitquietlyforafewminutes,focusedonforcingdowntheirfish.Bethfightsagainstagag.Shewishestheyhadn’thadtolettheircook,Mrs.Mildred,go.MissWilson’sthebesthousekeeperintheworld,butcookingisn’therforte,especiallywhenitcomestofish.
Bethglancesoverathermother,strucksuddenlywiththevisionofhereatingaloneinanevenemptierhouse.IfBethdoes
marryLordMontson,surelythey’llseeeachotheroften,butMotherwillendupsomewhereelse.Theywon’tdinetogetheranymore.
BethwillbediningwithLordMontsonandtheearl,andMotherwilldinealone,inanotherhousewiththeroomsdrapedin
sheets,closedoffandunused.
“Doyoueverthinkaboutit?”Bethasks,thequestionpoppingoutofhermouthbeforeshecanstopherself.
“Thinkaboutwhat?”Motherasks,glancingupatherandthenstraighteningatwhateverlookhasovertakenherface.
“Gettingmarriedagain.AfterI’msettled.You’reeligiblenow.”Mothergapesather.“Ijust—ifyoufoundsomeonewonderful—not
justsomeonefineorkind.Wouldyoumarryagain?Ifitwasforlove?”
Motherswallowsandblinksather,hergazeturningfaraway,trulyconsideringherquestion.Bethburieshereyesbackinto
herundersaltedfish,unabletowatchtheemotionsplayacrossMother’sface.Maybeitwascrueltoask,nomatterwhatshe
andGwenhopecouldhappen—maybesheshouldn’tevendanglethethoughtintotheworld.
“I’vealreadyhadmygreatlove,”Mothersaysafewminuteslater.
Bethlooksup,startled,andfindsMotherregardinghersoftly.WasitLordHavenfort?Beth’safraidtoask.
“You,”Mothersayswithalittlesmile.
Bethforcesherselftoreturnit,tothankMotherandsqueezeherhand.Butitbreaksherheart,tothinkhermothercan’tevenimaginefindingloveagain.Orisitperhapsthatshecan’timaginefindingitforthefirsttime?
SheandGwenhavetosucceed.ForgetwhetherBethmarriesLordMontsonornot.Hermotherdeservestohaveloveatleastonce
inherlife.AndBeth—BethwillbefineChapterEightGwen
“It’sdry.”
“Justeatit.”
“I’mtellingyou,it’soverbaked.”
“Sogoinandtellthem,then,andgetyourmoneyback.”
“Icannotgoandcomplainthatmysconeisoverbaked.”
GwenglaresacrossthetableatAlbie,whoglaresrightback.“Thenatleastgoandaskformorecreamifitbothersyouso
much,”Gwensays.
“Onlyifyouadmittheseareasdryassandpaper.”
Gwenrefrainsfromstickingouthertongue,butonlyjust.They’resupposedtobesittingprimlyoutfrontofPatisserieViolette,
eatinglittleoverpriceddelightstogether,demurecompanions.Instead,they’vebeenkickingeachotherandtakingturnshogging
thecreamfortheirsconesandtheirteaandgenerallymakinganuisanceofthemselves.
Father,seatedafewtablesaway,keepschucklingwhilepretendingtoreadhispaper.
“I’mnothungryanymore,”Gwendecides,slouchingjustabitinherseatasAlbiesnickers.“Ibetyou’dgetmorecreamfor
Meredith.”
“’CourseIwould,”hesaysimmediately.“Butshe’dsayplease.”
“Giveherayear,”Gwensays,wavingoffhisproudlittlegrin.
HeandMeredithhavebeenonnineoutingsandhe’sprobablyamonthawayfromaproposal.He’sdoingGwenafavor,sitting
outwithher.Albiedoingfavorsforherinsteadofherdoingfavorsforhim,howthetableshaveturned.
Itrankles.
“Here,eattherestofthisifit’llstopyourpouting,”Albiesays,slidinghisscone,smotheredincreamandjam,across
thetable.
Gwentakesitwithoutcomplaint,poppingitinhermouthandsavoringthecream,eventhoughthedoughishorriblydry.This
issupposedtobethebestpatisserieinthecity,butMrs.Gilpe’ssconescoulddancecirclesaroundthesepatheticcrumbly
things.
“IcouldspeakwithGrish,”AlbiesayssoftlyasGwenslumpsbackinherseat,themomentarypleasureofsweetnessgiving
waytohermelancholy.
“Grishisadrip,”Gwensaysimmediately.
AlbiefrownsandglancesbacktowardFather,who’sthoroughlyengrossedinhispapernow.“He’snot…thatterrible.”
“Yougottowaituntilyoufoundsomeoneyouactuallylike.Affordmeatleastthatcourtesy,”Gwensaysgruffly.
Albiesighs.“Ijust—I’dliketoseeyouhappy,”hesays,andshelooksovertofindhisfacelaidbare,honest.
“I’mfine,”shesays,sittingup,primandproperandpastingonasmile.Shecan’tletAlbiestartfeelingbadforhernow.
NotAlbie
“It’sjust—”
“Whatapleasantsurprise.”
Gwenturns,delightedtofindBethhoveringathershoulder.LadyDemerovenfrownslightlydownatthem,butBeth’sbrightsmilehasGwen’sfocus.
“Hello!”Gwenchirps,herbadmoodvanished.ShestandstokissBeth’scheekandcurtsytoLadyDemeroven.“Willyoujoin
us?”
Bethglancesathermother.LadyDemerovenlooksaround,takinginthepackedoutertables.“Tenminutes.I’llfindyousomewhere
inside—keeponthelookoutforLordMontson.”
“Yes,Mother,”Bethsaysdemurely.
LadyDemerovengivesBethasignificantlookandheadsinside.Gwennoticesherfatherwatchingovertheedgeofhispaper,
quicklyduckingdownagainwhenhecatcheshereye.GwensnortsandpullsachairaroundforBethsotheycansquishtogether
atherlittletablewithAlbie.
“MissDemeroven,”Albiesays,noddingtoher.
“Howareyou,Mr.Mason?”Bethasks,hercheeksaprettyshadeofpink,lightgreenskirtsrustling.Shelooksabitlike
apastry.
“I’mwell,”hesays.
“He’sgoingtoproposetoMeredith,”Gwensaysconspiratorially,justtoseehimrollhiseyes.
“Oh,howexciting!She’llbesothrilled,”Bethsays.HerhandsnagsGwen’sinanenthusiasticsqueeze.Gwencanfeelthe
warmthofherpalmeventhroughbothoftheirwhitekidgloves.“Shewastellingmeyesterdayhowmuchsheenjoyedgoingboating
withyou.”
“Didn’tyoufallinthelake?”Gwenasks,clenchingherjawagainstafrown.SheandBethhaven’tattendedasinglemutual
eventallweek.
AlbieglaresatGwen.
“Wereyouhurt?”Bethasks.
“Youshouldbemorelikeher,”AlbiegrumblestowardGwen.“Andno.GaveMereagoodlaughthough.”
BethsmilesandthenturnsandmeetsGwen’seyes.“Howareyou?It’sbeenages.”
“Iknow,”Gwenagrees,squeezingthehandshehasn’tyetreleased.“Montson’skeepingyoubusy?”sheasks,scootingabit
closertosavorthetimetheyhavetogetherwithouthim.
“Yes,”Bethsays.“Mymotherandhishavescheduledsomanyevents,it’sexhausting.”
“Iassumehe’smeetingyouhere?”Albieasks.
“That’stheplan,”Bethsays.“Thoughit’sawfullycrowded.Motherwantedtomakesurewe’dbeseen,”sheaddstoGwen.
“Youcanjoinusatworst,”Albiesaysgamely.“Iseeherallthetime.”
Gwendoesstickhertongueoutatthat,justtohearBeth’shigh,brightlaugh.Thesoundmakeshersmile.
“Whathaveyoubeenupto?”Bethasks.
Gwenshrugs,tanglingtheirfingerstogether.Nothing’sfeltasgoodassittingherewithBeth,softandcloseandthrumming.
“Afewboringteaparties,afewsmalldinnerpartiesanddances.Bobby’sgettingbetter,”sheaddsforAlbie’ssake.
“Good.Awkwardchap,”hesays,takingasipofhistea.
“DidyoueverfinishMadameBovary?”GwenasksBeth.“Icouldn’tstopthinkingaboutitaftertheperformance.”
“Yes!”Bethsays,turningtofacehermorefully.Gwenbasksinherexcitedregard,warmthspreadingthroughherchest.“It
wasalmostlikearolereversal.Ijustlentittomyhousekeeper,Ihopeyoudon’tmind—”
Albieraisesahand,breakingBethfromherthoughts.
GwenfollowshislookandspotsLordMontsonapproachingthem,lookingthoroughlyhandsomeandaffable.Immediatelyalltheircozylovelinessdisappears,likebeingdrenchedinabucketoficewater.GwensighsquietlyasBethstandsup,draggingGwenupwithher,herhandstillavisearoundGwen’sown.
“Hello,LordMontson,”Bethsays,herhandslippingfromGwen’ssoshecandipintoapleasantcurtsy.
Gwenfollowssuit,tuggingdiscreetlyatBeth’sskirtsoshedoesn’tgettangledupwhenshesitsbackdown.Montsonsmiles
atherandthenlooksatBeth,thatsmilebloomingintoalookoffondnessthattwistsunpleasantlyagainstGwen’sgut.Her
emptyhandscurlintofistsinherskirts.
Sheshouldn’tbeanythingbuthappyforherfriend,andyetshefeelsasifshe’dliketostampherfeetinfrustration.She
doesn’twanttogiveuphermomentwithBethjustbecauseMontson’shere.ShewantstoshoutthatBethshouldstayather
table—tellMontsontosodoffwithhisperfecthairandteethandobviouswealth.Bethhasbookstodiscuss,withher.
LadyDemerovenexitsthepatisserie,lookingharried,andspotsMontsonwiththeirlittlegroup.Gwennotesthetightness
inherjawasshewalksover.Shefeelsherselfgettingjittery,anxiousinhersuddendesperationtofindareasontoforestall
BethandMontson’sdate.
LadyDemerovencurtsies.“LordMontson,lovelytoseeyou.I’msorrytoreporttherearenofreetablesavailable.I’veordered
teaforyouandMissDemeroven,but—”
“Theycanjoinus,”Albiesays,standingtogreetLadyDemerovenformally.Gwencouldkisshim.“Idon’tthinkwe’vebeen
introduced.TheHonorableAlbertMason,LadyGwen’scousin.”
“Charmedtomeetyou,”LadyDemerovensays,dippinginanothershallowcurtsy.“I’dhateforMissDemerovenandLordMontsontointerruptyourtea,”sheaddsquickly.
Gwenopenshermouth,eagertoexplainjusthowmuchshe’dlikeforBethtokeepinterrupting—
“Itwillgiveustimetogetreacquainted,”Montsonsaysgamely.“It’sbeenatleastayear,hasn’tit,Mason?”
“More,”Albiesayswithalittlegrin.“Thatboxingmatch,Ibelieve,nearOxford?”
“Oh,thatwasaset,wasn’tit?”Montsonreturns,slidingintotheseatbesideAlbieasAlbieplopsbackdown.
Gwenblowsoutarelievedbreath.Foronce,she’sgladthatmenaresoutterlypredictable.SheturnstoseeLadyDemeroven
andBethexchangingaseriesofpointedglances.AlbieandMontsonmightbecontent,butLadyDemerovenseemshell-benton
keepingBeth’sdateintact.Gwenbitesathercheektokeepfromgloweringatthewoman,apossessiveirritationclawingat
herchest.They’llsuffertheintrusionofMontson,isn’tthatenough?Dotheyreallyhavetobepartedtoo?
Gwencastsabout,searchingforanotherexcuse.Itwouldbefarfromideal,butperhapsifLadyDemerovencouldjointhem
too,shecouldlosethatsourlook—
“IbelieveIcanoffersomeassistance,”Fathersays,steppingupbehindLadyDemeroven.Gwenchokesbackalaugh.Thewoman’s
hathidhimfromview.“LadyDemeroven,wouldyoujoinmeforaspotoftea?Leavethechildrentotheirchat?”
Beth’scheekslifthopefullyasLadyDemerovenconsidersit,lookingapprehensivelyupatFather.Gwenfindsshe’salmost
vibratingwithanticipation,pleadingsilentlywithLadyDemeroventojustforoncegivein,evenalittle.
“Ifyoureallydon’tmind,”LadyDemerovensayssoftly.
Gwennearlydeflatesinrelief.ShegrinsoveratBeth,bouncingonhertoes.Bethbeamsback.
FathersimplysmilesatLadyDemeroven,winking—howcheeky.
“Butletmeatleastbuytea,”LadyDemerovensays.“Idid…injureyouthelasttwotimeswesaweachother.”
Fatherfrowns.“Onlytheonce.”
“Thesecondtimewasawoundtoyourego.”
FatherputsahandtohisheartasGwenstares,shocked,atLadyDemeroven’slittlesmirk.FatherstartslaughingandGwen
shiftshergazetothepinkonhischeeksandthefull-bellieddelightthatpoursforth.DearLord,he’sstillsmitten.She
sockedhiminthejewelsandinsultedhim,andhe’slikealovesickschoolboyevenstill.
Honestly,shecanhardlyblamehim.LadyDemeroven’sblushisnearlyasprettyasBeth’s.Andifhe’sasexcitedforanafternoon
withLadyDemerovenasGweniswithBeth,howcouldhenotbejustabitdopey?Notthatit’sthesame,ofcourse,butthey
arecharming,theseDemerovenwomen.
“Myprideismorethanintact.However,I’llletyoupayforteaifwegetthoseFlorentinesyouusedtodevourbythebasketful,”
Fathersays.
“Theystillmakethose?”LadyDemerovenasks,allhesitanceforgotten.
“Mrs.Chutskywill,forme,”Fathersayswithalittlegrin.
LadyDemerovenlaughs.“Allright.Butwe’regettingtwosetsthen.”
“Gladtoseeyourappetitehasn’tchangedabit.”Helooksovertheirtable,noddingtoAlbieandMontson.“We’llsendyourbiscuitstoyouwhentheycomeout.Enjoyyourtime,ladies.Boys,behave.”
“Thankyou,LordHavenfort,”Bethsays,managingtofindthewordsGwencan’tseemtopushoutaroundherowneagernessand
shock.
FathernodsatherandthenwinksatGwenbeforegentlytakingLadyDemeroven’sarmasbothAlbieandMontsonsalutehim.
Thatwentastoundinglywellforsomethingtheydidn’tplan.
BethgigglesandgrabsGwen’shandtotugherbackdowntotheirseats.Gwenthreadstheirglovedfingersbacktogether,a
rushofexcitementcoursingthroughherattheprospectofatrueafternoonwithBeth.Evenifshedoeshavetoshareher
withLordMontson.
Theysettleintogether,allfourofthemcrowdedaroundthetable,toocloseandalittletoowarm.Butshe’ssittingat
thetablewithBeth,poisedforawholeafternoonwithher,theirknucklesknockingtogether,shouldersbrushing.Hercheeks
arestartingtoachefromsmiling.
Albieendssomestoryaboutanotherboxingmatchandthentheboysturnbacktothem.Montsonseemstoreturntopropriety
andsmilesatBeth.Abrief,awkwardsilencedescendsonthetableandsomeofGwen’sjoyslipsaway
“MissDemeroven,Imeanttoask,LadyGwensaysyoucanbestherinchess.Isthattrue?”Albieasks.
“Itis,”Bethsaysquickly.
Albiewhistles.“That’safeat,”hetellsMontson.“LadyGwencanbesteventhemostseniorLordsintheHouse.”
“Ohdear,andyoucanbeather?”Montsonasks,lookingatBeth.“I’mruined.”
Gwensucksonhercheek,herchesttighteningtoseeBeth’sattentionturnedtoMontson,thatprettyblushcomingoutforhimtoo.Shegoestopullherhandback,tellingherselfit’stogiveBeththebestadvantageinflirting,butBeth’sgriptightens.Perhapsshe’snotascomfortableassheappears.She’sbecomeabetteractressinthelasttwoweeks.
“I’msureyoucanstillbeatmeatarchery,”Bethoffers.Gwencan’thelpbutscoff.“What?”
“You’reaperfectshot,”Gwensays,givingMontsonasympatheticlookasheplayfullyslumpsinhisseat.“You’dhavetoteach
hersomethingnew.She’sannoyinglygoodateverything.”
“That’snottrueatall,”Bethsays,evenasshegoesfurtherscarlet.
“You’renottall,”Gwenallows.
Bethhuffs.“Well,you’reverypale.”
“You’repaler!”Gwenargues,grinningasBeth’seyessparklewithchallenge.
“LadyGwen’sterribleatgroupdances,”Albieputsin.Gwenshootsaglarehisway.“Iamtoo.Weweretheworstatlessons.”
“Abysmal,”Gwenagrees,eyesstillnarrowed.“ButIcanstayinaboat.”
“Shemademelaugh!”Albieexclaims.
“Youfelloutofaboat?”Montsonasks.
“CourtingLadyMeredith,”Gwensays,smilingasBethleansintoher,giggling.Itsendsalittlesparkthroughherchest,
thatlaughterjustforher.
“Alovelygirl,”Montsonsays,clappingAlbieontheshoulder.“What’salittleembarrassmentforlove?”
“Nothing,”Albiesays,holdinghischinhigh.“ThoughFatheralmosthadmyhide.Thesuitwasnew.”
“I’msurehe’llforgiveyou,”Montsonsaysseriously.“Thechanceforgrandchildrenforgivessomanysins.”
Bethblushes,andAlbiesnorts.Gwenforcesapolitechuckle,buttheverythoughtcurdlesinhergut.Shedoesn’twantto
considerBethtakingteawithMontson,letalonehavingbabieswithhim.
Montsonblinksandthengoesscarlet.“I’msorry,thatwasrude.”
“Funny,”Albiefinallysays,whenneitherBethnorGwenhasofferedsomethingelse.AlbieglancesoveratGwen,raisingan
eyebrow.Shetightensherjaw,searchingforsomethingrespectabletosaytobepolite.
“I’msureLadyDemerovenwouldforgiveMissDemerovenforfallingintoalakeaswell,”shepushesout,forcedsweetnessin
hervoice.
“Oh,never,”Bethsays,pickingatthelaceofherdress.“Themoneyandthehourshemmingthis?She’dmakemesewanewone.”
“Couldyou?”Montsonasks,genuinelycurious.Gwenlaughs,howludicrous.“What?”
“IsupposeIcould,”Bethallows,herthumbstrokingagainstGwen’swrist.Thesensationalmostmakeshershiver.“Butitwouldtakeages,and
thematerial—”
“Iabsolutelycouldnot,”Gwenputsin,alittleoverloud.“Clumsyfingers,me.”
“Yousaidyoudoneedlepointverywell,”Montsonsays,stillsomehowconfused.
“Notaswellasamodistewould,”Bethexplains.
GwenfightstheurgetorollhereyesasBethgivesamoredetailedexplanationofwhatgoesintoaseasongownforMontson.Allthewhile,herthumbcontinuestodrawhypnoticpatternsagainstGwen’spulse.ShewondersifBethcanfeelthewayherheartbeatisjumpingthroughhergloves.
LadyDemerovenandFatherexitthepatisserie,balancingbasketsofbiscuitswithapotofteaandcups,followedbyanemployee
whowalksatrulymammothplatterofgoodiesovertotheirtable.GwenkeepsaneyeonFatherandLadyDemerovenastheyhead
totheirtable,butitisdifficultwithBeth’sfingersbetweenhersandtheabsurdarrayofbakedgoodsplaceddownbefore
them.
They’vepulledoutallthestopshere—biscuits,cakes,canapés,andsandwiches,withafullteaset.ShehopesFatheratleast
persuadedLadyDemerovenhecouldpayforthis.GwenknowsthatBeth’ssuccesswithMontsonisimportant,butthisis…
excessive.
“Excellent!”Albiesays,grinningeagerlywithMontson.
BethsmilesandthenlooksoveratLadyDemeroven,hereyeslightingup.Gwenfollowshergaze,watchingasLadyDemeroven
laughsatsomethingFathersayswhiletheybickeroverthebiscuits,andsqueezesBeth’shand.
“Goingsurprisinglywell,isn’tit?”Bethmutters.
“Yeah,”Gwenagrees,leaningintowhisperinherear.ThescentofherlavenderperfumepervadesGwen’ssenses,sweetand
lovely.It’samomentbeforeshecanfindherwords.“Maybegroupoutingsarethewaytogo?”
“We’llhavetoplansomemoresurpriseencounters,Ithink,”Bethwhispersback,turninghercheektocatchGwen’seye.Gwen
swallowshardandnods,herbreathcatchingastheireyesmeet,closeandsecret.BetweentheperfumeandthesunandBeth,she’salittlebitdizzy.
Beth’sfingerscurlagainstGwen’sandGwenfeelsherselfshiverinanticipation.Thepromiseofmoreintrigueandscheming
andtimesimplyspentwithBethfluttersthroughGwen’schest.Shefeelshercheekspinkingwithpleasureandisaboutto
makeanothersuggestionwhenLordMontsonpassesBethaplatepiledhighwithsugarandcrèmeandbiscuits.
“Whatareyoutwowhisperingabout?”heasks.
“Nothing,”Gwensaysquickly,leaningbackintoherseatwithregret.
“IwastellingLadyGwenaboutmytreehouse,”Bethsaysinstead,herhandslowlyslippingfromGwen’s.
Gwenfeelsthelossofhertouchlikeacolddraft,allthatwarmthandcomfortandfunslidingaway.Bethuseshernewly
freedfingerstopluckthepistachiomacaronsfromherplatetoslideontoGwen’s,asifinconsolation.
“Treehouse?”Albieasks.
“MissDemerovenwantstobuildaforesttreehouse,”Montsonexplains.
“I’vewantedonesinceIwassmall,”Bethadmits.
“Oh,there’samarvelousspotonmyfather’sestate.Wecouldputyoursnexttomine,”Gwensayseagerly,alittlepridesurging
throughherasBethturnsbacktoher,eyesalight.
“Youhaveone?”Bethasks.
“FatherandIhelpedthestaffbuilditonefall,”Gwensays,glancingovertowardFatherandLadyDemeroven,whoarelaughing.“Maybeyoucancomeseeitlaterinthesummer.Wecouldbringbooksandspendthewholedayupinthetree.”
“I’dlikethat,”Bethsays,beamingather.
GwenfeelsanansweringgrinspreadacrossherfaceasshefreestwoprofiterolesfromthecroquembouchetoplaceontoBeth’splate—herfavorites.
“Ifhergroveistooperfect,I’llhappilysupplyyourwood,”Montsonsays.
GwenglanceshiswayandfindshimwatchingBeth’sexcitednodfondly.GwenbitesbackaquickretortthatsheandFather
havemorethanenoughwood.IfitmeansBeth’streehousewillbeonherland,shecanallowMontsontheexpense.
“Ididn’tknowyouandLordHavenfortbuiltthatyourselves,”Albiesays,lookingratherimpressed.
“Wehadsomehelp,”Gwenadmits.“ButFatherinsistedwedoasmuchaswecould.NearlybrokeallofourfingersandIfell
outofatree,butwemanaged.Itwasfun.”
“LordHavenfort’sagoodman,”Albiesayswithasmile.
“Thebest,”Gwenagrees.
“Youshouldcomehuntingwithus,”Albieadds,drawingMontsonin,thoughGwennotesMontson’sinterestistepidatbest.
“TheHavenfortlandsarewildwithgame,andLordHavenfortalwaysstockshislaketothebrim.Hastohavethewholevillage
fortheopenoritneverempties.”
“That’sgenerousofhim,”Montsonsayswithatightsmile.
Gwenwonderswhathesitationliesunderhisplacidlook.Herfather’sneverbeenanythingbutkindtohim,eventhoughthey
doboththinkhe’sboring.
Bethtapsherkneeandglancestowardtheirparents,bothofthemflushedandlaughing,makingratheraspectacleofthemselveseven.Gwensuddenlywishesshecouldshareinthejoke.WishessheandBethcouldsimplysitattheirowntable,pressedupclose.WishesshecouldspendtheafternoonwithBeth’sglovelessfingerstangledinherown,cheekspink,breathlessfromlaughter.
Instead,astiltedtensionfallsovertheirtable,andBethpushesbiscuitsaroundonherplate.LordMontsonbeginsdescribing
everythingtheydoontheAshmondestateeachsummer,andhowBethwilladoreit.
Gwen’sappetitedisappearsaltogether.ShefightstheinstincttoinsistBethwillbetoobusyvisitinghertoseemuchof
LordMontson.
***
Father’ssmilelaststhewholeevening.Hereturnsfromthekitchenswiththeirdesserts,chucklingtohimselfandbrushing
flourfromhisjacket,thoroughlyengrossedinsomeprivatejoke.ProbablysomethingLadyDemerovensaid.Gwenwatchesas
hesitsandattackshiscake,stilllookingpleasedaspunch—awhollydifferentmantotheacerbicFathersheleftwiththis
morning,teasingheraboutAlbieandMeredith.
“Youlookabsolutelysmitten,”shedecidesfinally,unabletoreinitinanylonger.Helookslikeachild.
Fatherrollshiseyes.“Noworsethanyoudo.”
Gwenstills.“Excuseme?”
“YouandMissDemeroven,thickasthieves.I’msurprisedMontsongotawordinedgewise.”
“Hetalkedthewholetime,”Gwenreturns,feelingablushclimbuphercheeksforabsolutelynoreason.
“Andyetitwasyoutwosharingsandwiches,andhespentmoretimemakingplanswithAlbiethanwithMissDemerovenaswe
left.”
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”shesays,takingabiteofcaketoavoidhiseyes.
Itwasallfunandgamesonthecarriageridehome,talkingaboutMontson’sfaults,andthejokesLadyDemeroventold,and
howlovelyBethlooked.Butnowhehashisgamefaceon.Fatherdearestabouttogivealifelesson.Andforthefirsttime
perhapsinherlife,Gwenwantstorunaway.
Becausethatgnawingfeelinginhergutisstillthere.Hasbeensincetheball.Itonlygotworseastheteawentlonger,
andevenwithBethbesideher,shecouldn’tquiteshakeit.OrperhapsbecauseofBethbesideher.Shedoesn’twanttothink
aboutwhy.
“Becareful,Gwennie,that’sallIask.”
Gwenfeelsherbrowcrease.“Carefulwith…what?”sheasks,hushed,likeshe’slittleagain.
Fatherconsidersher.Shewaits,watchinghimopenandclosehismouthafewtimesbeforeheshakeshishead.
“What?”sheasks,hershoulderscomingup.He’sneverbashfulabouthisopinions,nevershiesawayfromafrankconversation.
Withnomotherathomethey’vehadmorethanone.
“Justrememberwhyyou’rebothhere,that’sallIask,”hesaysfinally,reachingouttosqueezeherhandthat’sturnedinto
afistonthetabletop,hernailsdiggingintoherpalm.
“Ofcourse,”shesays,searchinghisface.Shedoesn’tknowwhathemeans—ormaybedoesn’tquitewanttoknow.
Gwenwatchesasheconsidersherforamomentlongerbeforestanding.Hecomescloseandbendstokissherhead.
“Whydon’tyoutaketheseintothekitchen,”hesuggestsgently,noddingtothedishes.“Mrs.StelmandMrs.Gilpearebaking—I’m
surethey’dappreciateit.”
Heleavesherwithapattotheshoulder.Gwensitsthere,rollinghiswordsoverinherhead.Careful—carefulofwhat?Ofwantingherfriendclose?OfinterferinginBeth’srelationship?
LordMontsonmightnotbegoodenoughforBeth,butshe’snotabouttoupendBeth’scourtshiporsomethingridiculouslike
that.Shemightruninterferencemore,findwaystogetthemapart,saveBeththeexhaustionofthecourtingseasonasmuch
asshecan.Butthere’snothingtobecarefulof.
Shestandsandclearstheirplatesmechanically.Thedishesclatterinhergrip.Father’sreadingsomethingintothisthat
isn’tthere.Somethingstrangeandworrying,butthat’sjustFather,overprotectiveand—
Gwenswingsthedoortothekitchenwideandthenstopscold,staringatMrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelm,pressedupastheyare
againstthecounter,coveredinflourandkissinglikethey’redrinkingoxygenfromeachother’smouths.
Ittakesherlongerthanshewantstounstickherfeetandbackthroughthedoor.ItswingsclosedonMrs.Stelmgiggling
asMrs.Gilpeleansherbackoverthecounter,bothofthemflushedandgrinning.
Gwenstumblesbacktothediningroom,depositingtheirplateswithaclatterbeforesinkingshakilyintoherchair.
Sheknew.Ofcoursesheknew—hasknownsinceshewassmall.Theyneverdiscussit,butthewomensharearoomandtradeaffections
withlittledisguise.Butshe’snever—inallheryearssomehowshe’sneverseenthemtogether.Shesupposesthey’remorecareful
inthecountrywithmorestaffabout.TheLondonhousehasfewerpeopleinitingeneral.Father—whoinsistsstafftakethe
nightoff,whokeepsthehouseholdsmallandcloseandsecretive—
Isthatwhyhehadhercleartheplates?Hewantedhertosee?
DoesFatherthinkshe’ssoinclined?ThinkshewantstobelikeMrs.StelmandMrs.Gilpe—happilylivingtogetherinsecret
beneaththeirroofsinceshewassmall?Loving,caring,adoringwomenwho’vehelpedhergrow—doesFatherthinkthatshefeels—that
shewants—that—withBeth?
Gwenstaresblanklyatthewall.Shecan’t—shelikesBeth.Shethinksaboutheralot,ofcourse.Andthedaysarebetter
whentheygettobetogether.Andwhenshe’sdressingforballsnowshethinksmoreofwhatBethmightthinkofhergownthan
whatanyoftheyoungmenmight.AndholdingBeth’shandtodaymadeherfeelmorethanshe’severfeltdancingwithanyone,
eventheprettiest,nicestboys.
Butsurelythatdoesn’tmean—they’refriends.Shouldn’tsheloveherfriend?
Gwenblinks,theimageofMrs.StelmandMrs.Gilpeburnedtherebehindhereyes.She’snevermuchlikedtoseecourtingcouples
kissing,findsitintrusiveandshowy,anditalwayslooksabitlikethey’reeatingeachother’sfaces.
ButMrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelmlooked…happy.Playfulandfunandbright.Beautiful.
IsthatwhatGwenwants?IsthatwhatshewantswithBeth?Thegnawinginhergut,theunsettledfeelingofjealousy—isit
becauseshewishesitwerethemonthatcountertop,gigglingandflushedandkissing?
AndFather—Fatherwhat?Approves?Worriesforher?
Gwenblowsoutabreath,sinkingfurtherdowninherchair,aheavyweightsettlingoverherchestwhilehermindwhirsdizzily.
Fatherwasn’tmad.Hewasn’tdisgusted.Hewasn’tjudgmental.Buthesawit.Seesit.Seeswhatshe’sbeentellingherselfshedoesn’tfeelforweeks—feelingssheshouldn’thave.Feelingssocietywon’twant.Feelingsshe’ssureBethwon’twanteither.
Feelingsthatcouldgetthembothterriblyhurt.ChapterNineBeth
Bethglancesaroundundertheguiseofstretchingherneck.SheandLordMontsonareseatedononeoftheBloughtons’benches
attheirsecondteaoftheweek.LordMontson’sstillprattlingonabouthisfather’sbetsfortheregattanextmonth,but
Beth’sbarelypayingattention.
SheknowsGwenisaroundheresomewhere.ShecameinwithherfatherandBethsawMothergreetthem.MotherandLordHavenfort
arestandingonthepationow,speakingquietly,LordHavenfortleaningintohearhermother,smirkingatwhatmustbewitty
commentary.They’rebecomingawfullychummy,thoughMotherstillwon’tsayawordabouttheirteaearlierintheweek.Beth
wishesshefelthalfascontentsittingherewithLordMontsonasMotherseemsloiteringwithLordHavenfort,swappingjokes
andgossip,shouldersclose.
Gwenwassupposedtocomesaveherfromthis.TheyagreedafterLordMontsonleftthatshewouldrunsomeinterferenceso
Bethwouldgetalittlerelief.LordMontson’slovely,buthe’sbecomingincreasinglyintense,andhonestlylookingupat
himishurtingherspineandherbrain.ShereallycoulduseoneofGwen’sdirtyjokesrightnow.
“SoiftheLRCwins,hereallymightgospare,”LordMontsonsays.
Bethhumsandreluctantlygiveshimbackherattention.“Hasheplacedanyotherbets?”
“He’sgotapoolgoingonsomelawmakingitswaythroughthechambers,”LordMontsonsaysdismissively.“Butit’sthesporting
eventsthatreallygethimgoing.”
“Seemstobethewaywithmen,”Bethsays,forcingasmile.
“Doyoubetoncardsoranythinglikethat?”
Shedoes,butshe’snotabouttoadmittoit,especiallysinceit’salwaysjustbeenwiththestaff.“Aladywouldnever,”
shesays.
LordMontsonchuckles.“Idosomesmallwagers,butnothinglikemyfather.I’dhatetothinkwhatcouldhappenifyouget
intoodeep,likeLordMason.”
Bethfightsawince,spottingMr.MasonandMeredithacrosstheway,gigglingtogetherastheysitonapicnicblanketthat’s
strewnwithfallenblossoms.LordMontsonshouldn’tspeaksoopenlyabouttheMasons’misfortune.Gwen’stoldhersomeof
it,anditseemsMr.Mason’sluckytohaveanyfortunetoofferatall,andthat’smostlydowntoLordHavenfortstepping
in.
“You’lljusthavetosticktothesmallergamesthen,”Bethagreestightly.
LordMontsonnodsandthenwaves.Bethlooksoverandseeshismothergesturingforhim.“Isupposemytimeisup,butyou
andyourmotherwilljoinusontheboattomorrow,yes?Mymother’ssolookingforwardtohavingacompanion,andIpromise
toteachyoutosteerifyoulike.”
Bethnodswiththebestsmileshecanmuster.She’srathersureshe’llbeseasick,buthe’ssoexcitedtoshowherhisfather’sboat,shecan’truinthatforhim.
“Excellent.ThenI’lltakemyleave,”hesays,snaggingherhandtoraiseittohislipsforaprolongedkiss.
Bethkeepshersmilewideacrossherface,loweringhereyesasifinpleasure.She’sdesperateforhimtoleave.Shewants
tospeakwithGwen—wantsjustafewminutesoffreedomfromtheritualofallofthis.ButLordMontsontakeshistime,releasing
herhandslowlyandstandingtolookdownatherasifshe’ssomethingspecial.
Shewishesitmadeherfeelmore.Shedoesn’tknowwhat’swrongwithher,otherthanthatsomethingcertainlymustbe.She’s
beingenviedaroundthegarden,shecanseeit.
Fromnoone,tooneofthemostcovetedmatchesintheseason—sheshouldbecrowing,giddy,excited.Instead,she’ssimply
gratefulwhenLordMontsonfinallytakeshisleavewithalittlebow,smilinghisprettysmileashesauntersofftojoin
hismother.
Bethstaysseated,watchingthemgo,herlegjumpingbeneathherskirts.Shewaitsuntilthey’reoutofsighttolightoff
thebench.Sheheadsfortherefreshments,tryingnottolookrelieved.Tryingnottolooklikeshe’sdesperatelysearching
forGwen.
ShenoticesMotherandLordHavenfortseatedontheoppositesideofthepationow,talkingwithafewotherguests,makingpoliteconnections.Thoughasshestandstherewatching,theykeepturningtocontinuesomeotherconversationbetweenthemselves,moreinterestedineachotherthanwhatevernewsisbeingsharedbytheotheradults.Theircasualimproprietybolstersherandshegivesintoalittledesperation,movingthroughthepartywithpurpose,searchingforherfriend.
ShespotsGwenalongthefaredgeofthehedgerow,standingalonewithaglassofchampagnelikeshe’dliketoslinkinto
theshrubberyifshecould.BethfeelsthetensionofherconversationwithLordMontsonfinallyletgo.Shesnagsherown
glass,takingagratefulsip,andhurriestojoinGwen,mostlyoutofsight,thoroughlyoutofmind.
“Youweresupposedtocomespringme,”BethannouncesassheslipsinbesideGwen,theirskirtsrustlingtogether.
BethlikestheplayofherpalepurpleagainstGwen’sdeepgreensatin.Itlookslikespring.
“Sorry,”Gwensaysstifflybeforetakingthelastswigofherchampagne.“Excuseme.”
Bethblinksandthenshootsherhandout,catchingGwen’selbow.“What’sthematter?”
Gwenhesitates,pullinglightlyagainstBeth’sgriponherarm.“Nothing.Ineedmorechampagne.”
“Youdon’t,”Bethobserves,notingtheflushalreadycreepingupGwen’sneck,theslightfrayofherblondcurlsaroundher
face.“Chatwithmeawhile.Wecanmakeexcusestogetmoredrinkslater.”
Gwen’sshouldersslump,butsheletsBethpullherbacktotheirshelterintheshrubs.Bethtakesherin,watchingtheway
Gwenwon’tquitelookather—thewayhereyesscanthepartyinstead,asifinindifference.
“Whathappened?”shepresses,concerned.
“Nothing,”Gwensays,twirlingheremptyglassinherhands.“How’sMontson?”
“Fine.We’reboatingtomorrow,”Bethsaystiredly,releasingGwen’selbowtothreadtheirarmstogether,butGwenpullsaway.“Areyouallright?”
“Fine,justwarm,”Gwendemurs,steppingalittleawayfromher.“Ishegoingtowraphisarmsaroundyouandteachyouto
steertheship?”Bethblushesatthemockingliltinhervoice.Gwenglancesatherandrollshereyes.“Predictable.”
Bethfrowns,takinginwhatseemslike…scorn,onherface.“Iguess.He’sexcitedthough.Andsoishismother,tomine’s
chagrin.”
“Yes,I’msurethey’llbebosomfriendsbytheendoftheseason.Shecouldevenlivewithyouandthem,”Gwensays.
“IthinkMotherwouldratherdie.Didyouseethough?Sheandyourfatherhavebeentalkingallday.Andlaughing.”
Gwennods,turningtolookbackattheparty,disinterested.DoubtcreepsintoBeth’schest.Shecan’tthinkofanythingshe’s
donetodisappointher—toinsulther.“Areyoumadatme?”sheasks,ashamedofhowmeekshesounds.
She’sagrownwoman,andthey’rebothfartoooldforschoolyardquibbles.
“No,”Gwensays,glancingatherbeforelookingbackatMr.MasonandMeredith,whohavejoinedagroupabouttosetupfor
croquet.“YouandMontsonwouldhavewon.”
Isshe—“AreyoujealousofmeandLordMontston?”sheasksbeforeshecancensorthethought.
“Please,”Gwensays,scoffingasshestepsaway,marchingtowardthedrinks.
Bethpursesherlipsandfollows,tossingbacktherestofherchampagne.ShescurriesupbesideGwen.“You’rebeingawfully
rude.”
Gwenhuffsatherandstridesaroundthesideofthehouse,asifthatmightthrowBethoff.Butshe’snotabouttoloseheronlyfriendoversomethingasstupidasLordMontson.
“It’snotlikeIwanttomarryhim,”shehisses.Theyclearthesideofthemanorandheadfortheopenwinecellardoor.
“Youweresupposedtocomeinterruptoveranhourago.I’dmuchratherhavebeenwithyou.”
BethhesitatesasGwencontinuesstraightdownintothewinecellar.Sheglancesback,butnoonehasfollowedthem,andthe
pullofthedarkandquietistoostrongtofight.Morethanthat,maybewithsomeprivacy,Gwenwillgetthisstickoutof
herarseandexplainwhat’swrong.
Bethdescendsintothedimcellar,litonlybytheopendoorsatthetopofthestairs,andasmallwindowalongthesame
wall.It’sdustyandclose,butwonderfullycoolandcalm.Gwenpacesinfrontofastackofbarrels,herblackslipperskicking
updustthatswirlsinthelimitedsunbeamsfromthegroundsabove.
“Whatisthematterwithyou?”Bethdemands,comingtostandafewfeetaway.Gwendoesn’tlookup,justkeepspacing.“Has
somethinghappenedwithyourfather?”
“What?No,”Gwensays,shakingherheadwithonlyadismissiveglanceBeth’sway.
“I’msorryIhadtospendtimewithLordMontson.It’s—God,thisiswhywe’rehere.Youcan’tactuallybemadatme.Ifyou
triedevenatallyou’dbeswarmingwithsuitors,andIwouldn’tbeactinglikeyouare,”Bethletsout,frustrated.
Somethingelsecreepsupherchestatthethought,butshepushesitaway,channelingherangeranddisappointmentandsadness
towardGwenandherindifference.
“Idon’twantthisanymorethanyoudo,butIhaveto—Idon’thaveachoice,andLordMontson’snotterrible.Gwen,please,Iknowwesortofmadeapact,butIneedhim,whetherIlikeitornot.”
“He’snotterrible,”Gwenadmits,glancingupbeforeturningbacktotheracksofwinebottlesalongthewalls.“Buthe’s
adullard.Youcoulddobetter.”
“How?”Bethexclaims.“Ifyoucan’tgetone,howonearthamIsupposedto?”
“Becauseyou’rebeautifulandbrightandyoucansmileandcurtsyandlooklikeyoumeanit,”Gwenspitsback.
“That’s—that’shardlyanything,”Bethsays,watchinginfascinationandannoyanceasGwenfinallyfacesherfullon.“I’m
luckyLordMontson’sinterestedandIshould—Ishouldbegrateful.”
Gwen’slookhardens.“YoudeserveahellofalotmorethanLordMontson.”
“Whatdoyouwantfromme?”Bethdemands,fistingherhandsintoherdress.“I’mnotgoingtodobetterthanhimandIthought
atleastI’dhaveyouwhileIhadtoacceptthat.”
“Iwantyou—”Gwensays,breakingoffwithahiss.
Something’schangedandBethwishessheknewwhatitwas.Howtheywentfromholdinghandsbeneaththetableto…this.
“Wantmetowhat?”Bethinsists.“WhatshouldIbedoingbetter?”
“That’snot—”Gwencutsherselfoffagain,glaringatBeth.
“You’vehadthreegoesatthisandyouhaven’tdoneit.WhatamIdoingsowrongthatyoucanjudgemeforit?”Bethdemands.
“Howcanyoubejealouswhenyou’renottrying?”
Gwenscowlsandstalksforward.Bethstumblesback,surprised.Herhoophitsthestackofwinebarrels.ButGwendoesn’tstop.Shecomesrightupagainsther,theirstiffcorsetsnudgingtogether,skirtspushingtoeitherside,breathminglingbetweenthem.HerhandsbracketBeth’swaist,squeezingtightenoughBethcanfeelitbeneathallthelayersbetweenthem.
“I’mnotjealousofyourbeau,”Gwenmutters.
AndthenherlipscrashontoBeth’s.Bethgaspsagainsthermouth,frozeninshock.Hermindgoestotallyblank.
Gwen,kissing,wine,jealous—oh.Oh.
GwengoestopullbackbutBeth’shandsshootout,quiteoftheirownaccord,clutchingatherwaist,anchoringGwenagainst
her.Bethrisesonhertoes,pressingtheirlipsbacktogether,thewarm,softpleasureofittricklingthroughher.This
iswhatit’ssupposedtobe.Thisiswhatit’ssupposedtofeellike.Swoonyandbrightandeverything.
GwensighsagainstherlipsandBethpartsherown,suckingonGwen’sbottomlip.GwenhumsandBeth’swholebodytingles.
Gwen’swaistbetweenherhands,Gwen’schestpushingupagainsther,pressingBethintothebarrelsbehindher—it’soverwhelming
andwonderfulandsomuch,somuch.Gwenmoanssoftly,draggingherhandsuptocupBeth’sjaw,anglingherheadtodeepen
thekiss,andBethgoeswillingly.
It’slikebeinglitonfireanddousedwithcoldwaterallatonce.Goosebumpsriseonherarmsandshoulders.Heatblossoms
throughherchestanddownherbelly.ShetugsGwencloser,leaningbacktotakemoreofherweight,wantingmorethanthey
canhavewiththesestupiddressesbetweenthem.
Gwenbreaksfromhermouth,bothofthemheavinginair.ShetrailslanguidkissesdownBeth’sjaw.Bethpants,lookingupattheceiling,theagingwoodenbeamsbarelyvisibleinthedimlight.It’sjustthetwoofthemhere,secretagainsttheworld.ShesqueakswhenGwennibblesonherearlobe,thesoundhangingaroundthem.
Shedidn’tknowanythingcouldfeellikethis.Hotandsoftandhardandfierceandbeautiful.Shewantstostaylikethis
forever,herhandstwistedintoGwen’sskirts,Gwen’sstrokingathercollarbones.
Shegroans,turningherheadtocaptureGwen’slipsagain,suckingonherbottomlipbeforesheslickshertongueacrossit.
TheybothshudderasGwenmeetsher,tonguesandteethandopen-mouthedkissesthatareallhandsandneckandsweetandraw—
LaughterpenetratestheirbubbleandGwenrearsback,turningherheadtostareatthestairsuptothelawn.Bethclutches
atGwen’sskirts,unwillingtobepartedfromherevenwiththethreatofdiscoveryloomingaroundthem.She’dletthewhole
worldwatchforanotherminutepressedagainsttheseagingbarrelswithGwen’slipsonhers.
Butnoonecomesdown.Gwenslowlylooksbackatherandtheystareateachother.HerhandsarestillonBeth’sjaw,both
ofthemflushedandbreathingheavily.
Bethstrugglestofindthewords—more,please,soon—can’texplainhowdesperately,howardentlyshewantstostaylikethisforever.What’snevermadesensebefore—howeverything
hascrystalizedintothismoment—howtheyshouldrunawayrightnow,forgettheballsandboatingandpartiesandjustlie
beneathtreesinthewoodslikethisforeverandalways.
“Yourmotherisprobablylookingforyou.”
Bethblinks,startled.Gwen’shandsfallfromherface.Bethgripshertighter,refusingtoletgoevenasGwentriestostepaway.“She’swithyourfather.I’msuretheydon’tcare.”
“Youshouldpreparefortomorrow,pickoutyourdress,don’twanttogetblownofftheboat.”
“Gwen,”Bethbeseeches,butGwenshakesherhead,gentlypryingBeth’shandsfromherwaistandsteppingback.
“Havefun,”shesays,andeveninthelowlight,Bethcanseetheanguishonherface.Sheturnsandhurriesoutofthecellar,
leavingBethsplayedthereagainstthebarrels.
***
Bethstaresoutatthechoppygraywaterbesidetheboathousewherethey’veretreatedtotaketeaandgetoutofthemisting
rain.It’sfittinglygloomyoutside.Matchesthecatchinherchestandthegripeinhergutandtheknottedacheatthebase
ofherskull.
“Areyouallright?”LordMontsonasksasshepoursherselfafourthcupofteawhileMotherandLadyAshmondcontinuetheir
never-endingdiscussionofpropertableclothsfordinnerevents.
“Ididn’tsleepwell,”Bethadmitsbeforetakingascaldingsip.
Theheatofitmakesherpushhertonguetotheroofofhermouth,whichcareensherbacktoherkisswithGwenyesterday—the
pressofherhands,theslickofhermouth,theclenchingpleasureof—
“Ihopesailingwasinvigoratingatleast.”
Bethforcesasmilearoundtherimofhercup.“Very,”sheadmits.
Thecoldseabreezeandhorribleweatherwerecertainlyadistraction,thoughnotthekindshe’ssurehewashopingtheywouldbe.ThepressofLordMontsonagainstherbackastheysteeredtheshipdidnothingforher.NothinglikethejoltshefeltholdingGwen,beingheld.
“Iseverythingallright?”heasksagain.
Bethforcesherselftoshakeofftheexhaustionandmelancholy.She’sheretobealively,enticingpartner.She’llhavemore
thanenoughtimeawakealonetonighttoreplayherkiss,tomullherconfusedemotions,toplanexactlyhowshecannextget
Gwenalone.
“IthinkIsimplyhadtoomuchchampagneyesterdayintheheat,”Bethsays,attemptingtolookself-deprecating.
LordMontsonnodssagely.“Iknowthatfeelingwell.Thetrickistodrinkasmuchwaterasyoudochampagne.”
Bethdoesn’trollhereyes,butit’saclosething.Howinspired.Whyeverdidn’tshethinkofthat?
PerhapsbecauseshewassoshockedandflabbergastedandutterlyintoxicatedthatshethrewbackfourglassesafterGwenran
off.Mr.MasonandMeredithlethersitthere,stunned,ontheirpicnicblanketuntilMotherwasreadytotakeherleave.
ShetalkedallthewayhomeaboutherconversationswithLordHavenfortaroundtheupcomingseasonevents.Thenitwaswhat
she’dlearnedfromtheothermothersabouttheAshmonds,andalltheexcellentcourtshipactivitiesthey’dsuggested.
Motherdidn’tnoticethatBethbarelyspokeallnight.Didn’tthinkathingofherretiringearly.Didn’tseehersitting
onherwindowseatuntilitwasnearlylightagain,relivingthekisses,wonderingwhathappensnow.Wonderinghowtodoit
again.WonderingwhatkindoflifeshecouldleadthatwouldgiveherGwen
“Myfatherswearsbyalargepieceofsteak,”LordMontsoncontinues,andBethstrainstogivehimevenhalfofherattention.“Butterbasted,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse,forthefats,Iassume?”Bethasksinashockinglycalmvoicegiventhetapdanceofherpulse.
“Naturally.Motheroftensimplyhasanotherdrinkwithbreakfast,”headds,leaningcloseintoherspacetowhisperitto
her.
BethnoticesMothersmilingatthem,obviouslythinkinghe’swhisperingsweetnothings.Buthisbreathagainstherneckinspires
nosuchcurlofdesireinherbelly,notingleinhertoes,nolightheadedrush.
“Perhapsthat’sthebestway,”Bethdecides,smilingasLordMontsonpullsback,lookingamused.“Simplyremainlightlyintoxicated
always.You’dbeverymerry.”
“Butdeadratheryoung,Ithink,”hesayswithalaugh.“Youmightexperimentwithlesssweetdrink.Wineorbeer.”
Bethnodsinfalsethanks.Bothgetherfarmoredrunkmorequicky,tooeasytoswallow.Tooeasytojustkeepdrinkingand
drinking,likeherfatherusedtodo.Drinkingtoexcessthereforeisn’tusuallyherstyle,unlessshe’sjustbeenkissed
silly,apparently.She’sseenwhatitcandotoaperson.
Butsheknowsmostmenaren’tsocareful.“What’syourpoisonofchoice?”sheasks,hopingtoenticeLordMontsonintoone
ofhislongermonologuessoshecanturnoffherbrainagainandsimplykeeptrackoftherainslidingdownthewindows.
LordMontsondelivers,allowingBethtosinkbackintoalightstupor.WhatfuturecouldsheandGwenpossiblyhopetohave?
There’snomechanismforthemtoownpropertyseparately,hardlymorethanthattogether,andnotenoughmoneybetweenthem
tomakeanykindofgoofit.
Theycouldbeinfrequentcompanions,likethewomenwhosometimesvisitedhermotheroncountrytrips.BethstillsasLordMontsonprattlesonaboutthedistinctionsofvariouswhiskylabels.Motherandherfriendsnever—
No,no,shewouldhaveknown,wouldn’tshe?Shewouldhavebeenabletotell.
Butthenagain,shehadnoideauntilyesterdaythattheaffectionshefeelsforGwentranslatestosuch…ardor.That
thetingleoftheirhandstouchingorheradmirationofGwen’sfacewasanythingmorethannaturalobservation.
Butnow—nowthinkingabouthersmile,hertouch,herlaugh—itsendsbutterfliesflutteringagainstherstomach.Howcould
shehavemisunderstoodherselfsobadly?Hasshealwaysfeltthisway—alwayswishedtokissherfriends,alwayswishedfor
theirtouch,theiraffection,theirpassion?
No,shethinks.Shehasn’tfeltanythinglikethisbefore.It’swonderfulanddevastatingandall-consuming.LikeGwenlit
asparkthatdidn’texistuntilyesterday,untiltheirlipstouchedandthepossibilityofmorepresenteditselflikeanexplosion.
Anexplosionthatcannotbeundone.
There’snogoingbackfromthatmoment.WhatshefeelsforGwenshewillneverfeelforanyoneelse.Itissingular,andbeautiful,
andshewantsmoreofit.MoreofGwen’shandsandherlipsandhertimeandheraffectionand—
SheglancesatLordMontson,speakingpassionatelynowabouthops,andthoseexcitedbutterflywingsdeveloprazors,lodging
atthetopofherstomachinaburningachenotlikelytodisappearanytimesoon.
There’safuturebeingbuiltforherhere,filledwithluxuryandsecurityandLordMontson.It’sthebestpromiseofstabilityandprotectionawomancanhopefor.Sheknowswellit’snoguaranteeofkindness,butatleastuntilhisdeath,she’dbeprovidedfor.It’safuturethat’sasstableandsolidandexpectedasitcanbe.Afuturethatshouldbehersingularfocus.
AfuturethatisthewholereasonshemetGweninthefirstplace.
She’sherefortheseason,andthisseasononly—makeamatch,getahusband,livehappilyeverafter.Hermotheriscounting
onher,MissWilsoniscountingonher.AmatchwiththeAshmondheir,that’sthegoal.
Buthowisshetosettlethatinherhead,whenshefeelsnothingforLordMontsonandeverythingeverythingeverythingfor
Gwen?
ChapterTenGwen
Gwensitsatthepianoforte,slumpedandlistless.Sheforcesherselfthroughherscales,makingintentionalmistakes.But
itdoesn’thelp.It’sbeentwodayssinceshe’sseenBethanditfeelslikeshecouldcrawlrightoutofherskin.
Sheknowssheshouldregretit.Thepositionshe’sputthembothin,theimpropriety,thesinofit—butallshewantsisto
bebackinthatdim,dustycellarpressedagainstherbestfriend,devouringhermouthlikeit’stheendoftheworld.
Gwengroansandletsherheaddroptorestagainstthefallboard.Therewaspartofherthatreallythoughtifshejustgot
itoutofhersystem,thatwouldbetheendofit.Theendoftheconfusingthoughts,andyearnings,melancholy,andfrustration.
Instead,she’smadematterstentimesworse.Andnowshe’llhavetowatchBethmarryLordMontsonknowing—
Knowingwhat?Knowingwhatit’sliketohavesomethingshecanneverhave?Knowinghowitfeelstoholdsomeonesheactually
caresabout?Knowingwhatit’sliketobeinlove?
Isshe?Inlove?
Gwenrollsherselfbackup,staringblanklyoutthewindowatthesteadymistingdrizzle.Iswhatshe’sfeelinglove?Thisall-consumingthought?Theheatedtickleacrossherskinwhenshethinksoftheirkiss?ThethoughtofBeth’ssmilebringingonetoGwen’sface?Isthatlove?
Wouldamanthinkhimselfinloveafteronekiss?Surelyshecan’thavefallensohardsoquickly,muchlessforawomanshe’s
onlyknownfortwomonths.
Butthebutterfliesinherstomachtelladifferentstory.Theymayhaveonlyknowneachotherformonths,butGwen’snever
feltsoclosetoanyonebefore,manorwoman.Thedaydoesn’tseemasbrightwithoutBethinit.
ButBethmightnotfeelthesameway.Shewassocaughtupintheheatandpressandfleshofitall,maybesheimaginedBeth
grippingatherhips,pullinghercloser.MaybeBethwasrepulsedandtoosurprisedtopullaway.WhatifBethdoesn’tfeel
likethis?Whatifshe’sjustwaitingforthenextteapartytopolitelybrushGwenoff?
Gwensucksonhercheek,worryingasoreintoherbottomlip.WhatifBethdoesn’tfeelthesameway?Whatthen?
Andsomehow,bothworseandbetter,whatifshedoes?
“Thereyouare.”
Gwennearlyjumpsoffthebench,ahandtoherheartasFatherstridesintotheroom,hischeeksflushedandhairdamp.He
wasn’tsupposedtobehomeuntillateafternoon—somemeetingofparliamentariansattheclub.
Gwenblinks,noticingthetimeontheclockoverthemantel.It’snearlyfivealready.Hasshereallyjustbeensittinghere
inastropallafternoon?
“Gouptoyourroomandputonagown,”Fathersays.
Gwenstares,feelinglikehiswordsaretravelingthroughfog.“What?”
“Goandgetdressed.I’mtakingyou,MissDemeroven,andLadyDemeroventotheoperatocelebrate.”
Gwen’sstomachdrops.“Celebratewhat?”
“We’regoingtopasstheMatrimonialCausesAct,”Fathersays,hisgrinnearlysplittinghisface.
“That’s…wonderful,”Gwenmanages,tryingtoreturnhisjoy.Sheknowshowhardhe’sworkedforthis—howmuchitmeans
tohim—butthefeelingofdreadclutchingatherchestmakesithardtosmile.
“I’vesentMrs.Stelmuptolayoutyourbestdress.We’llhavedinneratWilton’sandthenridetothetheater.Boxseats,
bestinthehouse.”
Gwenswallowspastheruneasewhenhissmilejustdoesn’tfall.“You’reveryexcited.”
Helaughs.“Yes.Now,goandgetpretty,andIshalldothesame.”
Gwengigglesdespiteherselfandletshimguideherfromtheparlor,listeningasheprattlesonaboutthevariousbusiness
dealingsandnegotiationsthatcreatedthismagnificentassuranceofvotes.Ofcourse,thatquorumneedstosurviveuntil
thevote,butthey’vedoneit.
HeleadsheruptoherroomandpassesherovertothepreparationsofMrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelm.Gwen’sstomachtwists.Images
ofthetwoofthempressedtogetherinthekitchenswarmherheadasthepairmovearoundher,helpingheroutofherhousedress
andintoherfreshshiftandcorset.
Didtheirstomachssomersaultlikethisthefirsttimetheykissedawoman?Howdidtheyevencometorealizetheycould?Andfindeachother?Howdidtheydecidetogethertoriskeverythingtolieinthesamebedeachnight?
“Areyouquitewell?”Mrs.GilpeasksasMrs.StelmadjustsGwen’scorset.
“Howdidyou—”Gwenblurts,stoppingjustshyofshoutingitlikeademand.
HerhousekeepersexchangeaconfusedlookandGwenballsherfists,feelingsoexceedinglyuncomfortableandtwistedup.
“Issomethingbotheringyou?”Mrs.Stelmasksgently,herrounder,moreopenfaceeasiertoconsiderthanMrs.Gilpe’sassessing
stare.
Sheknowstheybothloveher.Mrs.Stelmhasjustalwaysbeenthesofterofthetwo.Becausethey’vealwaysbeenapair.Even
ifGwenneverthoughtonitmuch—eventhoughit’sneverdiscussedorbroughtup,they’reapair.Ateam.A…couple.
“Howdidyoutwomeet?”Gwenventures,tryingtolookdisinterested,thoughshecantellfrombothoftheirfacesthatshe’s
easilyoverplayedherhand.
“Mrs.Gilpe’sbeenwithyourfamilysinceshewasborn,”Mrs.Stelmsaysslowly.
“Right,Iknow,”Gwenmumbles,feelingfoolish.
Sheknowshowtheymet.Mrs.StelmwashiredbyFather’smotheronrecommendationfromalocalseamstress.AndofcourseMrs.Gilpe’slived
withtheHavenfortssinceshewassmall,becauseherfatherwasthegroundskeeper.Sotheymetatthecountryestate,and
havebeenworkingtogetherforGwen’sentirelife.
Shedoesn’tknowhowtoaskwhatshereallymeans.Howdotwowomendecideto
“IthoughtIheardyoucomeintothekitchenafewnightsago,”Mrs.Gilpesaysidly.Shebendstoraisethehoopcage,steppingbehindGwentosecureit.“Yourfatheraskedyoutobringinthedishes?”
Gwennodsslowly,watchingMrs.Stelm’seyeswiden.Thetwowomenexchangeaknowingglancebetweenthem.Itmakesherblush.
Whyisiteveryoneinherhouseholdseemstohaveseenthisbeforeshedid?She’snochild.She’sbeenoutforfourseasons,
is…seasonedinthewaysofcourtship.Whyhasthishitherlikeaspeedingcarriage?
“Wastheresomethingyouwantedtoask?”
Mrs.Stelmsmilesather,gentleandopen,likesheusedtowhenGwenhadquestionsasalittlegirl.Howdobeessleep?Whyistheskyblue?Whydotreeslosetheirleaves?Butherquestionnowfeelstoobigforhertongue.
“Youlookedhappy,”Gwensays,lettingthewordsfallfreeeventhoughshecan’tseemtopluckupexactlywhatitisshewants
toask.
“Weare,”Mrs.Gilpesaysfirmly,likeit’saneasy,givenfact.
“I’msorryifitupsetyou,toseeuslikethat,”Mrs.Stelmadds.
“No!”Gwenexclaims,wincingastheybothjump.Shedoesn’twantthemtothink—“It’snotthatatall.No,I’m…I’mglad.
Imean,Iknew,butI’m—itlooked…nice,”shetrailsoff,hercheeksgoingscarlet.
Mrs.GilpeandMrs.StelmshareanotherknowinglookandGwenwantstomeltintothefloor.Nice.Shesawtheminflagranteandallshecansaywasitlookednice?How—sheshouldn’tevenbecommentingonit.Shebitesatherlip.Ifoneofthemwereaman,itwouldbeascandal.
Andshecertainlywouldn’tthinkitnice.Amanpushingyouintoasolidcountertop,nosingatyourneck,scrabblingatyourwaist—itwouldlookbarbaric.Butwhatshesawwasanythingbut.Itwasgigglingandblushingandjust…
“Itwas,”Mrs.Stelmsays,withholdingalaugh.“Nice.”
Gwengroans.“Idon’t—”
“Ifit’sconsensual,twopeopletouchingthatwayshouldalwaysbenice,”Mrs.Gilpeadds.
Mrs.Stelmdoesgigglethen.Gwenwatchesherreflectionasherblushcrawlsfromherchesttothetipsofherears.Shelooks
likeatomato.
“Don’tknowhowmanykissesyou’vehad—thoughofcourseitshouldbenone,”Mrs.Gilpecontinues,fixingGwenwithastern
lookbeforeshecracksandlaughsherself.
Gwenstares.She’srarelyseenthewomansoopen.“Onlytwo—well,three,”shecorrects,herfacegoingfurtherredasmemories
ofhermomentwithBethflitthroughhermind.“Ijust,I—Howdidyoudecideto…belikethis?”Sheendsonawhisper,
feelingembarrassedandashamedforhercuriosity.
Shewouldn’taskifoneofthemwasaman.Nooneneedaskwhenoneisaman.That’ssimplyhowit’smeanttobe.You’reborn
agirl,yougrowuptobeawife,thenamother,thenmorethanlikelyawidow,andthenyoupass,hopefullywithasmattering
ofmaleheirs.
Youdon’tgrowuptokissyourbestfriendsandbecomeaspinster.
“Ihadmorethanmyshareofkissesasalass,”Mrs.Stelmsays.
Mrs.GilpestridestofirmlyshutGwen’sdoor.Gwenswallowsasfullprivacysurroundsthem.She’snotsureshetrulywantstoknowthis.Itfeelslikethere’snoturningback,likesomehowthisconversationwillcementarealityshe’snotsureshewantstoface.Butshe’salreadystartedit.AlreadypressedherselftoBethandtakenhermouth—wouldhavetakenmoreifshecould.
“AndnoneofthemfeltthewayI’mbettingitdidwhenyoukissedthatnewdebutanteyou’realwaystalkingabout,”Mrs.Stelm
says.
Gwenswaysinplace.Howdotheyjustknow?
“Oh,sweetheart,itwasalloveryourfacewhenyoucamehomefromthatgardenparty,”Mrs.Stelmsays.
“Likeyou’dbeensockedinthegutandslappedintheface,andthengivenanewpony,”Mrs.Gilpeadds,chucklingasMrs.
Stelmwhacksherarm.
“Feltlikethat,”Gwenwhispers,somethingreleasingasshemeetstheireyesinthemirror—speakingitintotheworldislike
breathingthatclutchingpanicrightoutofherchest.
“Onceyou’vebeenkissedlikethat,it’shardtogobacktootherkisses,”Mrs.Gilpesaysfrankly.
Gwenfeelshershouldersdroop.Sheknowsitwon’teverfeelthesamewithaman.It’snotthatthekissesofherfirstseasons
wereterrible,buttheyweren’t…Beth’s.“Andyouneverthoughtofgettingmarriedanyway,eitherofyou?”shewonders.
Mrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelmglanceateachotherforalongmoment.Gwenwatchestheirsilentconversationinnewfoundinterest.
She’sseencouplesatpartieslookateachotherthisway,silentlydiscussingsomethingbeforegivingananswer.
“Itwasourwishtofindawaytobemarriedtogether,”Mrs.Gilpetellsher,meetinghereyesinthemirror.Thetwoofthem
stepclosebehindher.“But,andthisistheonlytimeinyourlifeI’llsaythis,itwassimplerforusascommonersthan
itwilleverbeforyou.”
Gwenletsoutastartledlaugh.“Oh?”
Mrs.Stelmsmiles.“ThoughyouknowwesleepinthesameroomandcallusMrs.despiteneitherofushavinghusbands,how
oftenhaveyoureallythoughtaboutoursituation?”sheasks.
Gwenbitesathercheek,unwillingtosayshe’snever,notonce,thoughtonit.That’sjusthowit’salwaysbeen,eventhough
sheknowstherearemorethanenoughservant’squartersforthembothtohaveasuiteofthemshouldtheywishit.
“Whichisexactlyasweexpectedittobe.Andasyourfathertakesaslittleinterestinourlovelivesashedoestheothers’,
it’sneverbeenanissue,”Mrs.Gilpeadds.
“But,tobefair,yourfatherisnoordinarylord.Certainlyinanotherhousewewouldnothavesurvived.Yourmothernever
caughton,”Mrs.Stelmaddsafteramoment.
“Oh,shewouldhavehadusboththrownintheasylum,”Mrs.Gilpesayswithasnort.“Weweresimplycareful.”
“Whywouldshedothat?”Gwenasks,thequestionpoppingoutlikeshe’saninnocentchild.
Sheknowshermotherwasanythingbutsaintly.AvicioustongueFatherpretendswasmerelywitty,butGwen’sheardenough
storiestoknowtherewascrueltybehindthebeauty.Buttohavetwowomenthrownintotheasylumforthecrimeofhappiness?
“Yourfatherisagoodman.Youmotherwasawomanofhertimeandstation.Itwouldhaveoffendedallthatsheknew,”Mrs.
Gilpesayseasily.
“Wasshereallythatawful?”Gwenwonders,staringatherreflection.
Whatwouldhermotherhavethoughtofher,then,fantasizingofkisseswithherbestfriend?
“Ithinkshewasveryunhappy,”Mrs.Stelmsayssoftly,reachingouttosqueezeGwen’sshoulder.“Unhappypeopleareoftencrueltoavoidthecrueltywithin.”
“Regardless,youarealovelyyoungwoman,andanyonewouldbeluckytohaveyou.Whetherornotit’sasyou’dwishitto
be,therearearrangementsthatcanbemade,”Mrs.Gilpesays.
Gwenmeetshereyesinthemirror.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“There’smanyayoungwifewhohasaconstantcompanion,oronewhovisitsoftenthroughouttheyear.Andmanymoreahusband
andwifewhosleepseparately.Youcanliveyourownlife,shouldyoufindtherightmatch.Yourstationcouldputyouin
agoodsituationtoorchestratealifestyle.”
Companions,nothingmore,stealingwhattimetheycanwhiletheirhusbandsareawayinparliamentorsleepingintheopposite
wing.
“But,tonight,allyouhavetodoisputonyourgownandenjoyadinnerandeveningattheoperawithyourfatherandyour
friend,”Mrs.Stelmsays,sneakingintotickleGwen’ssideandwipeherfaceofconcern.
Ithalfworks.
“Yes,hedidseemveryexcitedtotakeLadyDemerovenoutonadate.”
Gwen’sheadswimsforthesecondtime.“Thisisadate?”
“Oh,youareratherhopeless,aren’tyou?”Mrs.Gilpesays.
Gwenglaresasthewomenlaugh,helpingherintohergown.Buttheirsmilesaresoft,andshelovesthemsodearly.Moredearly
thansheeventhoughtshecould—sistersinsomeotherworldthantheyareinnow.
ChapterElevenBeth
SittingbesideGwenintheopulentcarriageisshockinglynerve-wracking.Theirparentsareallchatter,Mothertryingto
teaseouttheirdinnerreservationsandgettingincreasinglycompetitiveasLordHavenfortrefusesherateveryguess.Lord
Havenfortlookspleasedaspunch,obviouslytakenwithMother’sgorgeousgown,andhair,andbesottedface.
WereBethnotexcruciatinglyawareofeveryminutemovementfromGwenbesideher,she’dbeveryexcitedthattheirparents
seemsohappy.ThatMotherevenacceptedtheinvitationwasmonumentalonitsown,butnowshe’shereandactingsogirlish.
Bethshouldbedoinghighkicks.Butshecanbarelyfocus.
Gwenshiftsinherdeepnavyskirt,herhandsclaspedtightlyinherlap,andBethfeelstheresultingwobbleofherhoop
likeanearthquake.SherisksaglanceatGwen,butGwen’sstaringoutthewindow,lipbetweenherteeth.Bethpicksather
gloves,wrappingherownhandsintoherlaptostalltheimpulsetoadjustthelayofGwen’sskirts.
It’sbeendayssincethey’veseeneachother,andshecan’tevenpushahellooutofhermouthwithoutfeelinglikeeveryconfused,hopeful,desperatethoughtshe’severhadwillcometumblingoutatonce.Shefeelssilly,andoverheated,andanxiouslikeshehasn’tbeensincethefirstballoftheseason.Worse,actually.
Becauseit’sGwen.ShekissedGwen.Well,Gwenkissedher,andshekissedback,andthenGwenranawayandthewholeworldhasturnedupside
downandnowshe’sjustsittingthere—
ThecarriagecomestoahaltandLordHavenfortpromptlyhopsoutandextendsahandbacktoMother,whoeagerlyclimbsout
behindhim.Beththinksmaybehefinallysaidwheretheywere,buttruthbetoldeverythingsoundsalittlelikebuzzingto
herearsrightnow.
“Younext.”
Bethnearlyjumpsoutofherseat,startledasshemeetsGwen’samusedexpression.“Oh,”shesaysdazedly,followingGwen’s
nodtowardLordHavenfort’swaitinghand.“Right.”
Shetakeshisextendedpalmwithnumbfingersandclimbsoutofthecarriage,staringupatthewhitewashedwallsofWilton’s,
whichcallsitselfthepremieroysterbarinLondon.
She’sneverhadanoysterbefore.
“ThisisthebestseafoodestablishmentinallofLondon,”LordHavenforttellsthemwhileheusherstheirgrouptowardthe
entrance.
BethfeelsherpulseaccelerateasGwen’shandbrushesthesmallofherbacktogentlypushherinsideafterhermother.The
contactsendsshiversupBeth’sspine.ShehopesGwencan’ttell.
Thewallsarelinedwithgreenvelvetboothsdividedbywhite-linen-clothedtableswithcandlesflickeringatthecenter.
There’sabroadoakbaralongonewall,andserversinfulluniformwanderamongthetables,dispensingplatesoffishand
crustaceans.
Itsmellsliketheocean—close,salty,andalittlesweet.
“LordHavenfort,ofcourse,rightthisway,”thehostsays,guidingthemtowardthebackcornerwherethelargestboothhas
beenreserved.
Bethtenses,watchinghermotherandLordHavenfortentertheboothonthesameside,leavingBethandGwentosettleopposite.
Theirskirtspresstogetheragain,shoulderstouching.Itsendsacurrentupanddownherarm,andBethhopesnoonecansee
herflamingcheeksintheflickeringcandlelight.
“IbroughtyourmothertoWilton’stwenty-twoyearsago,”LordHavenfortsays,andittakesBethamomenttorealizehe’s
speakingtoher.
“Really?”Bethwonders,tryingtofocusenoughtoenjoythethought—tryingtokeepherheadonstraightenoughtorealize
thisisadate.Hebroughtthemherebecauseit’sspecialtohermother.
“Itwasjustastandbackthen,”Motheradds,herfacelitupatthememory.Bethhasn’tseenherlookthislivelyinsuch
alongtime.“Weduckedoutof,whatwasit,dancelessons?”
“Badminton,maybe?”LordHavenfortwonders.“Somethingorganized.IconvincedhertotakeacarriagewithmetoGreatRyder
Streetandwewanderedupanddowntheshops.Wegotoystershere—”
“Andthenicecreamandpastriesdowntheway.Doyouthinkit’sstillthere?”
“Gephino’s,wasit?”LordHavenfortasks,andBethwatchesastheyleantheirheadsin,namingoldrestaurantsbackandforth.
“Maybeweshouldduckoutofournexttea,”Gwenmutters,hervoiceclosetoBeth’sear,andBethstartsviolently,bumping
theirskirtstogether.
GwenwincesasBethfindsenoughfortitudetomeethereyes,toactlikeshe’snotthoroughlyundonejustbysittingnexttoher.“Weshould,”sheagrees,hervoicetightandhigh.“Idoubtwecouldjusthireacoachthough.”
“We’dhavetoconvinceAlbie—dreadfullyinconvenient,really,”Gwenagrees,herwordsalittlehalting.“He’llneverleave
Meredith.”
“Meredithmightbegame,”Bethsays,picturingthefourofthemditchingtheirhightea,inalltheirfinery,towalkaround
thefishmarketsandbuystreetfood.“Itcouldbefun.”
“Itreallycouldbe,”Gwenagrees,hersmiletentative.“I’dbuyyougelato.”
Bethfeelssomeofherhesitationmeltaway.Thisiseasy—familiar—planninghijinkswithGwen.Evenwithallthe…kissing,
they’restillfriends.Attheveryleast,whateverelse,they’restillfriends.
AndsomethingassimpleasbrowsingafishmarketsoundssofunbecauseGwenwouldbethere.Shemakeseverythingfun.Everything
isbetterwithGwen,fromthekissingtosittingherelisteningtotheirparentsbicker.
HermotherlaughsloudlyandLordHavenfortplayfullyshushesher,chuckling.Notsomuchbickeringas…flirting?It
seemsit’safamilytrait,makingthemundaneintofun.
“Comportyourselves,”Gwenchides,laughing.
HerfathergivesherafalsescowlandMotherstraightensup,wipingathereyes.Bethdoesn’tevenknowwhattheywerelaughing
at.She’sabouttoaskwhenamaninagreenvelvetwaistcoatarrivesattheirtable.Hehasalargemustacheandamopof
curlybrownhair,bothofwhichonlycomplementhisbeamingsmile.Hisjacketmatchesthebooths.
“Mr.Wilton,”LordHavenfortsays,attemptingtostandandnearlyfallingoverashisfeetgetcaughtinGwen’sandMother’sskirts.
“Sitdown,sitdown,”themansays.LordHavenfortplopsbackintoplaceandBethhidesalaugh.“It’sbeentoolong.”
“Ithas,”LordHavenfortagrees.“Doyouremember—”
“Butofcourse!”Mr.Wiltonsays,beamingoveratMother.“MissPaulson.”
Mothersmiles.“LadyDemeroven,now.It’sgoodtoseeyou.”
Mr.WiltonfrownsbrieflyoveratLordHavenfortbeforegivingMotheragraciousbow.“Apleasuretoseeyouagain,mylady.
Well,Iimaginethiscallsforthechef’sspecial,”hesays,lookingbackatLordHavenfort.
“Andthatwouldbe—”
“Everything!”Mr.Wiltonsaysgleefully.“Foryou,LordHavenfort,wedothewholemenu.Ihopeyouladiesarehungry,”he
adds,bowinglightlytoBethandGwenbeforehedisappearsbackintowhatmustbethekitchens.
“You’reinforatreat,”LordHavenfortsays.
“Everything,Dashiell,really,”MothersaysandLordHavenfortlaughs.
“Notuptothechallenge?”
MotherdemursforamomentbeforeglancingatBeth.“Whatdoyouthink,darling,canweeatthesetwounderthetable?”
BethgapesathermotherforabeatbeforethechallengeinhereyesandGwen’ssnickeringgetthebestofher.“Oh,absolutely.”
“Wemightthinktoplanenoughtimetowalktotheopera,”Gwensuggests,laughingasLordHavenfortreachesouttosqueeze
hershoulder.
“Youaremydaughter.”
Anotherwaitercomesoverwithglassesofsparklingchampagne.Hedutifullypassesthemaround,hiseyeslingeringonGwen.
Bethfeelshergutclench,afast,hotrollofjealousysurgingthroughher.
Sheblinksasheturnsandwalksaway,nooneathertableanythewiser.LordHavenfortraiseshisglass.Shefollowssuit
withGwenandMother,utterlybaffledbytheextremerangeofemotionsshe’sfeltinjustthepastthirtyminutes.She’snever
beenthisupendedbefore.ThinkingaboutGwennowisutteremotionalchaosandbutterfliesand—
“Tothehealthandsafetyofwomeneverywhere,andthegoodhealth,happiness,andcheerofthethreebeautifulwomenIhave
withmetonight,”LordHavenfortsays.
Bethraisesherglassandthentakesasip,lettingthefizzofthebubblesagainstherpalateattempttogroundherback
toearth.HermotherismakingeyesatLordHavenfortandhe’sturninghisheadtomumbleinherear,likethey’re—
“Goingratherwell,isn’tit?”Gwenwhispers.
HerbreathagainstBeth’searmakeshershiver.“Yes,”shemanages.
Thisiswhatthey’vewanted,andit’s—it’slikeit’sworking.
Sheputsherglassdownshakily.Gwenseemstorelaxbesideher,herhandlandingonthebenchseatbetweenthem.Bethcan
feelthedelicateweightofitagainstherskirts—thelightestpulloffabric.ShecouldsoeasilyreachdownandtouchGwen’s
hand—holdit,even,andwhowouldknow?
ShethinksGwenwouldlikethattoo—thinksaboutallthetimesthey’veheldhandsinthepastweeks—ofthewayitalwaysmadeherfeelsafeandjustabittinglyandsheneverputittogether.Shecouldfeellikethatnowifshejust—
Mr.Wiltonappearsfromthekitchenwithafranklyenormousplatter,placingitdownontotheirtablewithaflourish.All
thoughtsofillicittouchesflyoutofBeth’sheadasshestaresdownattheexcessivespread.Crabandshrimpandtoastpoints.
Tureensofsauce.Skewersofcheese.Andwhatmustbeoystersthereallaroundtheedges,swimminginbuttersandsaucesand
brines.
Mr.Wiltonspendsafewminutesexplainingeachdish,butBethcan’tquitekeepup.They’vebeeneatingmostlyvegetables
andsoupwithleanmeats,andnowhere’saplatterofabundancejustforthem.She’ssalivating.
“Beth?”Gwenasks.
Bethblinks.Mr.WiltonhasleftthemandLordHavenfortandMotherarealreadytakingtheirfirstsamples.
“I…don’tknowwhattotryfirst,”Bethadmitssoftly,overwhelmedbyallofit.
Gwensmiles.“Oystersfirst,thenwe’lldocrab.Ooh,gosh,Father,didhesaythatwascaviar?”
“Itis,”LordHavenfortsaysaroundamouthfulofsomething.MotherwhackshimandBethlaughs,comingbacktoherself.
“Whichkindisbest?”sheasksGwen,gesturingtotheoysters.
“Trythegarlicbutterfirst,”Gwensays,reachingouttodaintilypluckoneofthedrippingoysters,offeringittoBeth.
TheirfingersbrushasGwenpasseshertheoysterandBethnearlyfumblesitintoherlap,hercheeksflaming.ButGwenonlysmiles,reachingoutforherownoyster,andBethforcesherselftofocus.Sheneedstoobserve,sinceshedoesn’tknowhowtoeatit.Dotheyreallyjust—
SheswallowshardasGwenslurpsheroysterfromitsshell,tippingherheadbacktogettherestofthesauce.Thebobof
herthroatandthelineofherneckandthewayhertonguesnakesouttorimherlips—dearGod,thatwasperhapsthemost
arousingthingBeth’severseen.
“Goon,”Gwensays,laughingsoftly.
BethshakesherselfandtriestosipheroysterasgracefullyasGwenmanaged.It’sabrightpopofsaltandbrineandthe
tangofthegarlic.Slightlyslimybutpleasantallatonce,itburstsinhermouthandglidesdownherthroat.Shehums,
delighted.
SheopenshereyesandfindsGwenstaringather,flushed,eyeswide.Bethsmiles,surprised.Itsendsasurgeofsomething
throughhertoknowGwen’sasundonebyallofthisassheis.
Itwasn’tanaberration,achampagne-fueledmistake.Gwenwantsher,justasmuchasBethwantsherback.
HermothergroansandBethdragshergazeawayfromGwentofindLordHavenfortfeedinghermotheranoyster,bothofthem
lookingratherheated
Isthissomekindofillicitadultpleasureshe’sneverheardofbefore—feedingoysterstoa—what,exactly?Whatarethey
alltoeachothernow?
“Good?”Gwenasks,hervoicetightandlow.
“Ye-es,”Bethsays,blinkingandlookingawayfromtheirparents.Itfeelslikeshe’sintrudingsomehow.
Andyet,shesuddenly,desperatelywantstofeedGwenanoyster.It’simproperforLordHavenforttodoitforhermother;
itwouldbebeyondscandalousforBethtodothatwithGwen.Butshewantsto.
ShewantstospoilandsavorandtouchandkissanddoteonGwenthewaysheseesLordHavenfortdoingforhermother.ShewantstobewithGwen,inallways.Slurpingoysters,andexchangingkisses,andgoingonwalks,andreadingquietlyinthelibrary.
Just—livingwithher.
ThethoughtisbigandbrightandbroadandBethreachesoutmechanicallyforanotheroyster,wantingthesensationofit
towashawaytheburningdesiretohaulGwenintothebackandkisshersenseless.
Itsortofworks.Thesaltybrinechasedbyahorseradishreductioncertainlybringsherbacktothecurrentmoment.Andthen
sheandGwenaretastingalltheoptions.She’stryingcaviarforthefirsttime,initsburstingbrinewithsmoothgoatcheese
onatoastpoint.She’scrackingcrabclumsilywhileMother,LordHavenfort,andGwenseemtodoitwithpoise.Butshedoesn’t
care.She’sswimminginbutterandlaughterandlust,andifshecouldstayrighthereforever,shejustmight.
HermothergigglesatsomethingLordHavenfortwhispersinherear.Thefourofthemclusteredaroundoystersisthehappiest
she’sseenhermotherin—longenoughitwouldbesadtoconsidertooclosely.
Andshefindstohersurpriseit’sthehappiestshe’sfeltinquitesometimetoo.EverythingisbetterwiththeHavenforts,
shedecides,laughingasGwennoisilyslurpsbutteroffhercrableg.
EverythingisbetterwithGwen.ChapterTwelveGwen
It’sexquisitetorture.
SittingbesideBethinthedarkenedtheater,bodiespressedtogetherandskirtsrustlingbetweenthem,handsrestingdemurely
intheirlapslesttheybumptogetheronthearmrest.Allnightit’sbeenheatedglancesandsuppressedblushesfueledby
oystersandchampagneandtheirparents’delightedlaughter.
Somehow,whilethey’vebeen…fallingforeachother?Theirparentshavefallendeeper.Thisisabsolutelyadate,and
it’sgoingexceedinglywell.
GwenglancesoverandwatcheswithfascinationasFatherdropshishandbelowhisseatandLadyDemerovenquicklymeetsit
withherown,theirhandsclaspingoutofsight,glovelessandintimate.
Gwenswallowshardandturnsherattentionbacktothestage,evenmoreawareofherextremities.Ofhowshecouldsoinnocently
touchBeth’sfootwithherownbeneaththeirmountainofskirts.
Ofhoweasilyshecouldslipherhandbetweenthem,takingBeth’sown.OrhowshecouldsplayherhandonBeth’sknee,hiddeninthefabricofherskirts.ShetakesachancetosneakalookatBethandfindsherequallyflushed,buthereyesarestillresolutelysettledonthestage.Gwenwatchesherforaslongasshedaresbeforelookingbackattheperformance.
DonGiovanniisserenading,butshecan’tfocus.She’srestlessandalittleoverwarm,andherfatheriswhisperingonher
otherside.Ifanyoneiswatchingtheirprivatebox,thewidowerandwidowHavenfortandDemerovenarecertainlygettingcozy.
Theirdaughters,however…
Gwennearlygroans,slouchinginherseat.Andthenshejerksforward,straight-backedagain.Beth’sglovelessfingersbrush
atherknee,glancingagainstthebendbeneathherskirts.Gwensucksonhercheek,tryingtocontinuelookingunaffected
evenassheholdsherbreath,slippingoffherowngloves.Herhearthammersasshelowersherhand.
Theirfingerstangletogetherinstantly,warmandtightandwriggling,andGwenfeelsheatriseallthewayfromherbelly
buttontoherscalp.Suchasilly,simple,innocentconnectionfeelslikealightningbolt,likefrisson,likefire.Beth
leanstowardherandGwenslowlyshiftstodothesamesothey’reshouldertoshoulderintheirseats,theirhandsdisappeared
betweenthem,tangledandgripping.
Timeseemstoexpandandcontractatonce.Theshowcontinuesbelowthem,hauntingandmelodicandepic.Butthereintheir
seats,everythingisnarrowedtotheirpointofconnection.Gwenforgetsentirelytopaytheirequallyflusteredparentsany
mind,focusedonlyonthefeelingofBeth’shandinhers.
Beth’swideeyesandflushedchestatdinnersoothedherworries,butnow,withtheirfingersthreadedtogether,knucklesknocking,shallowbreathrisingandfallingalmostintandem—Bethwantsherback
MyriadfantasiesexplodeacrossGwen’smind.ShecouldpullBethfromherseat,runtothelavatory.Theycouldcrowdbehind
apillarandkissuntiltheshowends.Orbetter,theycouldrunoutoftheoperahouseandneverlookbackatall.Escape
toGwen’scountryestateandliveinhertreehouse.OrtheycouldescapeallthewaytoParis,workmenialjobsandlive
togetherinaboardinghouse.Twoseamstressesunconcernedbysociety,unnoticedbytherich,livinginpeacetogether,lying
togethereverynight.
Gwen’ssocaughtupinherimaginationandthestrokeofBeth’sthumbalongthesideofherhandthatshenearlymissesthe
endoftheperformance.Peoplearestandingandclappingbelowthem.HerfatherandLadyDemerovenhaveseparatedtostand
andclapaswell.
ButGwendoesn’twanttoletgoofBeth,andBethseemstofeelthesame,thetwoofthemrisingcarefully,secretively,still
pressedclose.Theydon’tclap,buttheysmile,handsstillhiddenbetweentheirskirts.Theysneakfurtiveglancesthroughout
thelongbows.There’saworldoutsideandaroundthemthatwon’tabideeventheholdingoftheirhands,butitdoesn’tmuch
seemtomatterintheirlittlebox.
Gwendoesn’twanttothinkaboutanyoneelse—doesn’twanttoleavethisstolenmomentforthepracticalitiesoftheiractuallives.ShewantstosavorthefeelingofBeth’spalmtightagainstherown—aquiet,privatepleasure.Ofcourse,eventuallytheapplausediesdownandthey’reforcedtoseparate,forcedtoturnandsmile,followingtheirparentsoutoftheboxandintothepressofpeopleexitingtheoperahouse,asifnothinghashappenedatall.
GwenatleasttakestheopportunitytopressupagainstBeth,handonherhiptokeepthembothsteadyastheydescendthe
stairs.LadyDemerovenischatteringtoFatherabouttheorchestrationsandthevibratoontheactorplayingDonGiovanni.
GwencatchesFather’ssmile,thewayhishandglancesoffthesmallofLadyDemeroven’sbackmuchinthesamewayGwenis
usingthetumulttotouchBeth.
Howstrangetoseeitthisway—asiftheyaresuddenlyalikeinthissomehow.Sneakingtouchesandsecretsmiles.Hedoes
lookhappy.Surelysomeofitisthedrink,andthelingeringexcitementofsecuringthevotes—hisprideandexcitementshouldn’t
bediscounted.ShewatchesthesoftlookhegivesBeth’smotherasthey’rejostledaboutintheatrium,allfourofthempressed
closeandgrippinghandstostaytogether.It’snotquiteasromanticnowthatthey’reallclaustrophobicandsweaty.
Butthentheyburstoutsideintothecoolearlysummerair.AgustofwindrustlestheirdressesandmussesFather’shair
beforehecangethistophatontohishead.LadyDemeroveneyeshimfondlyandGwentakesintheirclearrelaxation.Father
hatescrowdsasmuchasGwendoes,butseemstohatethemdistinctlylesswithLadyDemerovenunderfoot.
Gwenseesagoldenopportunitybubbleupandgivesitnomorethanapassingthoughtbeforeopeninghermouth.“Father,might
Bethstayovertonight?We’vebarelygottentodiscusstheoperaatallandhaven’tseeneachotherallweek.”
Bethgoesstillbesideher,herfingerscurlingintoGwen’selbow,grippinghard.ButGwenignoresit—ignoresthebroaderimplicationsandthebutterfliesinherstomach—ignorestheimproprietyteeteringattheedgeofherthoroughlyrationalrequest.
“Ofcourse,ifLadyDemerovendoesn’tmind,”Fathersaysafteramoment,turningtosmileatLadyDemeroven.
“Beth?”LadyDemerovenasks.
“Please,”Bethsayseagerly,steppingclosertoGwensotheycanbothsmileserenelyattheirparents.“IpromiseIcanbe
homeforbreakfast.”
“Oh,whydon’tyoujoinusforbreakfastinstead,LadyDemeroven,”Fathersayssmoothly.“We’lldropyouoffatyoursand
mydrivercanpickyouupinthemorning,thenperhapswecanallheadtothegame?”
Right,there’sacricketmatchthey’veagreedtoattend,together,somehow.Afteraweekofnotimeatall,suddenlytheir
familiesaretheclosestoffriends.
“Perfect,”LadyDemerovensays,allowingFathertoescortthemtowardthestreet,wheretheircarriagewaitsamongaseaof
others.
BethandGwentrailbehind,armscurledtighttogether.GwenglancesatBeth,whomeetshergazeandthenskidshereyesaway,
ablushclimbinghercheeks.There’snothinginnocentabouttheinvitation,isthere?ShecanhardlybelieveFather’sallowed
it.
Thenagain,perhapshedoesn’ttrulymind.Whatisaffectionbetweenfemalefriends,tohim?Especiallybetweentwofriends
whocanneverbemorethanthat—nevermorethanpassingcompanions.
ButGwenwon’tthinkonittonight.Tonightislikeaneveningoutoftime,etherealandfleeting.Magicseemstofloatontheairastheypileintothecarriage,FatherandLadyDemerovenpressedcloseononebench,GwenandBethontheother.They’reallpinkcheeksandgiggles,evenFather.
Whatastrangecollectiontheymake.ButGwensinksintothecamaraderieasbestshecan,grippingatBeth’shandbeneath
theirskirts.Theychatwiththeirparentsabouttheopera.Well,theirparentschat.GwennoticesBethhasaslittletosay
aboutthequalityoftheproductionasshedoes.
Somehow,thoughsheknowsFatherandLadyDemerovenhadtheirownexchangeofsubtlecaresses,theywerestillabletopay
attention.Perhapsitcomeswithage,orpractice,orthey’rebetterliarsthansheorBethwilleverbe.Shedoesn’tremember
ifthemainsopranohadavibratoornot.Itcouldallhavebeenutterdrivel,andshewouldn’thavenoticed.
Thenthey’reattheDemerovenhouse,andFatherhopsdowntotakeLadyDemeroventothedoor,leavingBethandGwenalone
inthequiet,dark,closecarriage.
Gwenbreathesaroundarushofnerveswhiletheybothpeeroutthewindow.IsherFathergoingtokissLadyDemeroven?
“Tonightwentwell,didn’tit?”
Beth’svoiceislikeashocktoGwen’ssysteminthequietofthecabin.Sheswallowsaroundhersuddenlydrythroatandmanages
anod.“Goodshow,whateveryoudidtoyourmother.”
“Ididn’tdoanything,”Bethsays,glancingbackather.
Allotherthoughtsdieonhertongueastheireyesmeet.Gwenhesitatesamomentbeforebringingherotherhanduptobrush
atBeth’scheek.Theystareateachother,comingcloser,pulledlikemagnets,andthenthecarriagedoorjerksopen.
Theysplitapart,theirhandsseparatingtofiddleanxiouslywiththeirskirtsasFatherclimbsbackintothecarriage.Gwenbarelynoticesthere’slipstainonhischeekashesmilesatthem.Sheattemptstolookunruffled,atease,casual.
She’sinvitedBethtospendthenight.Oh,God,butwhatdoesthatmean?
ChapterThirteenBeth
TheHavenfortLondonhomeismassive.Gwen’salwaysspokenaboutitasthisstandard,boringmanor,butthefoyeronitsown
couldfithalfofBethandMother’stownhouse.Thefloorsaremarbledandgleaming,allofthesconceslitandthrowingshimmering
patternsalongthecolumnsthatriseupthewalls.She’ssurethepriceofthepaintingsalonecouldrivalherdowry,just
inthisroom.
“Comeon,”Gwensays,laughingasBethslowlyspinsonthethreshold,oblivioustoLordHavenfortremovinghishatandcoat
besidethem.“Letmeshowyouaround.”
“Don’tstayuptoolate,”LordHavenfortsays,andBethblinks,allowingGwentoturnhertomeethisfalse-sternexpression.
“Youdon’tstayuptoolatedaydreamingaboutLadyDemeroventhen,”Gwentossesback.
Bethstiflesagaspattheimpertinence.Shecan’timagineeversayinganythinglikethattoherfather.ButLordHavenfort
justchucklesandshakeshishead.
“That’senoughofthat.DoyouhaveeverythingMissDemerovenwillneed?”
“Ofcourse,morethanenough,”Gwensaysquickly.“Sleepwell.”
“Youtwotrytogetanysleepatall,”hecounters,andBethfeelsaflushriseuphercheeks,thrownbacktotherealitythatshe’sprobablynotjusthereasafriend.
“Goodnight,Father,”Gwensaysfirmly,butthere’saliltingplayfulnesstohervoice.
BethwatchesasLordHavenfortshakeshisheadandturnsonhisheel,lopingupthestairswithaninformalitysheneversaw
evenoncefromherfather.
“Don’tmindhim,sometimesheactslikeI’mstillabouttwelve,”Gwensays,turningbacktoBeth.They’realoneinhercavernous
foyer.
“Mymother’sthesameway,sometimes,”Bethsaysabsently,grippingatGwen’shandassheswivelstocontinuetakinginthe
space.“Somehouse.”
Gwenlaughsandpullsherin,loopingherarmthroughBeth’stoleadhertowardthegrandwindingstaircasewithitscarved
banisterandshiningsteps.WhatwouldGwenthinkofhertinylittlehome?Bethhasbeenthinkingallthistimethatsheand
hermotherfitintothissocietythey’representingherto,buthowcantheyreally,whenthisisGwen’shouse?
HowcouldMother’sfathereverhavethoughtLordHavenfortwasn’tasuitablematch,evenwithoutthetitle?
“Father’sfatherboughtthisplacealmostseventyyearsago.Itwasoneofthefirsthomesbuiltalongthesquare,”Gwenrattles
off.Bethturnsherhead,tryingtotakeineachmassiveportraitandpainting.“Fatherdoesn’tliketospendanylongerhere
thanheneedsto,butasIunderstandmymotherenjoyedbeinginLondonmorethanatourcountryestate,andhismotherwas
muchthesame.”
“Butit’ssocrowdedhere,”Bethsayssoftly,stumblingastheyclearthefirstlanding.Theartworkisjustsomassive.
“Hardertoseefriendsthough,whenyou’reawayinthecountry,”Gwensayswithalittleshrug.“I’veneverminded,butit
couldgetlonely.”
“Isuppose,”Bethagrees,followingherupthenextflightofstairs.Shehadn’ttrulyappreciatedhowtallthetownhouse
wasfromtheoutside,preoccupiedasshewaswiththetruenatureofthisvisit.
ThatthoughtsettlesheavyinherstomachastheycomeuponthesecondlandingandGwenbeginstoleadherdownalongbroad
hallwayfullofcloseddoorsandlandscapes.Thismustbeher…wing.
Gwen’sarmslipsfromhersandherhandtrailsdowntocatchBeth’sfingers,squeezing.Theycometoastopatthelastdoor
onthehallandBethwondersifGwencanheartheslamofherheart.
“Thisisme,”Gwensays,openingthedoor.
Bethhesitatesthereatthethreshold,eagertomoveforward,terrifiedtoo.Shepeersintotheroom,smilingattheclutter
andthefewpetticoatsandsetsofglovesscatteredallabout.
GwentugsgentlyonherarmandBethshufflesforwardwithherintotheroom,staringaroundasGwensoftlyshutsthedoor
behindthem.Theirbedsaresosimilar—whiteandpiledhighwithacomforterandblanketsandamassofuselesspillows.Gwen’s
four-postercurtainsaregreen,whileBeth’sareblue,butthere’ssomethingcomfortinginthefamiliarity.
Therestofherfurnitureisapristinewhite—vanity,armoires,andevenasmallbookcasestackedhighwithbooksandknickknacks.Therearepiecesofclothingjustabouteverywhere,thoughBethcantellsomeone’sbeeninbythepileoffoldedskirtsandpetticoatssittingoutonthearmoire.
“It’smessy,”Gwenadmits,steppingclose,theirhandsstillclasped.
“It’slovely,”Bethcounters.It’slivedin,shethinks,smilingassheturnstomeetGwen’slook.
Gwen’ssuckingonhercheek,faceabitpink,andlookingaboutasawkwardandunsureasBethfeels.“IcanhaveMrs.Gilpe
setuptheguestroomifyou’dprefer,butyou’re—”
She’snotsurewhyshedoesit,orfromwhereshegetsthegumption,butthedoorisclosed,andthey’realone,andshewill
absolutelynotspendthenight—theironlynight?—sleepingdownthehall.
Instead,sheleansinandpresseshermouthclumsilytoGwen’s,usingherfreehandtocuphercheekandpullherin.Gwen
startles,butrecoversalmostinstantly,deepeningtheirkissandreleasingherhandtotakeBethbythehipsandpullher
closersothey’repressedupagainsteachother,aclashoflaceandtulleandhoopsatawkwardangles.
Bethsmilesagainsthermouthandturnsthem,backingGwenintothedoor.GwenlaughsandBethgrins,archingontohertoes
toapplyalittlepressure.It’snotawinebarrel,butitwillhavetodoforretribution,evenifsinceBeth’stheshorter
ofthetwoit’snotquitesodomineering,especiallywithalltheskirtsbetweenthem.
Gwenallowsitanyway,sighingasBethbreaksfromhermouthtolavekissesdownherjawandthroat,likeGwendiddaysagotoher.She’ssoftandwarmagainstBeth’slips,herperfumepervadinghersenses.BethskatesherlipsaroundtotheothersideandmovesuptonibbleonGwen’sear.She’sbeenthinkingofitallweekwhensheliesinbed—thefeeling,thesounds,thepressofhandsandlipsandteeth.
“Soyoudon’twanttheguestroom,then?”Gwenasks,breathless.
Bethpullsbacktomeethergaze.“Didyouinvitemeovertoputmeintheguestroom?”Bethasks,surprisedbythestrength
ofhervoice.Herwholebodyfeelslikemeltedchocolate.
“Notonyourlife,”Gwensays,yankingatherhipstopullherclosebeforeshepushesthembothfurtherintotheroom.“There’s
morethanenoughbedforbothofus.”
“Good,”Bethsays,tuggingherdownwiththehandsshehascradledaroundGwen’sjawuntilthey’rekissingagaininthemiddle
oftheroom.It’sheadyandsplendorousandthelongertheykissthebetteritgets,likethey’rebothlearningandadvancing
andchasingthesameinexorablepleasure.
“God,getthisoffofme,”Gwenmumblesintohermouth.
Bethpullsback,laughingandstunned.Gwen’slipsareplumpedandred,hercheeksflushed,blondhairfallingfromherelegant
updotoframeherfaceinwhisps.Shelooksbeautifulandabitdebauched,andBethfindsherhesitanceslidingawayaltogether.
GwenislettingBethseeherthisway—makeherthisway.Everythingbeyondthisroomtonightnolongermatters.It’sjust
themtogether,andGwen’sright,theskirtsabsolutelymustgo.
“Spin,”Bethsays,smilingasGwengrinsather.
SheturnsinBeth’sarmsandBethtriestomakequickworkofundoinghereyelets,butherhandsareshaking.Shetakesadeepbreath,tryingtosteadyherself.ThisisGwen,beautiful,funny,kindGwen.Sheneedn’tbenervous.Butdamn,thesethingsaresmall.
“Jesus,”shemuttersasshefumblesatanotherclasp.
Gwensnorts.“Doyouneedmorelight?”
“I’mperfectlycapable,”Bethsays,managingtwoeyeletsinquicksuccessionbeforegettingstuckonthethird.“Howmuch
doyoulikethisdress?”
“Donotripit,”Gwensaysonalaugh,herbodyquakingbeneathBeth’shands.“Honestly.”
“Fine,”Bethsays,bendingdowntopeerattheclaspandworkituntilshe’sabletoseparatethehookfromtheseatandmake
herwaytotheendofGwen’sbodice.“Success,”shecrows,helpingGwenslipherarmsfromthecappedsleevesandthenlift
thebodiceandskirtupandawayfromherhoop,petticoat,andcorset.Gwentossesthemtowardthevanity,wheretheyland
inaheap.Theybothgiggle.
“Yourturn,”Gwensays,reachingouttotakeBethgentlybythehipsandspinhersoshecanworkherwaydowntherowof
buttonsatBeth’sback.
BethshuddersasGwen’sfingerstripalongherspine,deftandquick.She’dbeembarrassedbyherownfumblingfingersif
Gwen’sfingertipsagainstherskindidn’tsendlittlezipsandtinglesflittingacrossherbody.
“Ilovebuttons,”Gwenmurmursassheundoesthebottomoneandthenslidesherhandsbeneaththebackofthebodice,wrapping
aroundBeth’smiddleandpullingherbackintoGwen’schest.Sheplantsawet,languidkisstoBeth’sneck,suckinggently
onherpulse.
Bethmoans,eyesopeningwidetotakeinthepicturetheymakeinthevanitymirror:Gweninherunderthings,wrappedaroundBethasherdressslowlyfallsoffherstays.BethworksherarmsfromhersleevessoshecanwrapherhandsaroundGwen’sarms,leaningbackintoherandmeetingGwen’seyesinthemirror.
Theystareateachother,curledclose,cheeksandchestsflushed,hairinruinsalready,mouthsrubbedraw,smilesonboth
oftheirfaces.Shewantstosearthismomentintohermindforever.
“Off,”Gwenwhispers,regretfullysteppingbacktogatherBeth’sskirt.
Bethraisesherarms,shiveringasthesatinglidesupandoverherhead,brushingagainsteveryheightenednerveending.
GwentossesBeth’sdresswithequalgleesoitlandsatopherown.Bethgrins,movingimmediatelytowrapherarmsaround
Gwen’swaistandundoherpetticoatandhoop.Gwendoesthesame.Theyshareafewdelightedminutesofbreathlesskisses
andtuggingstrings,petticoatstossedovertheirshoulders.
BethgruntstriumphantlyasshemanagestoreleaseGwen’shoopfirst,grinningagainstherlipsasitclatterstothefloor.
Nottobeoutdone,Gwen’sfingersmakefastworkofBeth’sanditfollowswithawhump,thetwoofthemleftstandinginthe
innermostcirclesoftheirhoopcages,armsaroundeachotherevenastheirhipsremaintwofeetapart.
Theyseparateandstandstraight,takingeachotherinforthefirsttime.It’sjustthemintheirdrawers,chemises,and
stays,andBethfeelsachangeintheair.Gwenholdsoutahandandtogethertheystepoutoftheirhoopsandshuffleclose
tothebed.GwenleansinandsipsagentlekissfromBeth’slips,herfingersslowlyundoingtheclaspsofBeth’scorset.
Bethshiversateachsmalljerk,theplayfulnessofthepastfewminutesdroppingawaytotheimportofthismoment.GwenreachesthelastclaspandgentlypeelsthecorsetfromBeth’schemise,tossingitontotheirpileofskirts.Shedeepensthekiss,handsimmediatelystartingtowendaroundBeth’swaist.ButBeth’sdesperatetokeepthematthesamelevel,petticoatforpetticoat,stayforstay.ShesucksonGwen’sbottomlipassheroughlytugsopenthefrontclaspsonGwen’scorset,smilingatGwen’sstartledgaspandlaugh
Shedidn’tknowwomencouldberoughtogether,couldbeplayfultogether,couldbeheatedandwantingandclutchingtogether
untilGwenkissedherattheparty.Andnow,nowshe’sabouttoknowalltheotherthingstheycoulddotogether.Whereshe
wascontenttosipkissesandtugatskirtsminutesago,nowshewantsthembothtogetheronGwen’sabsurdlyplushbed.She
wantstoknowwhatGwentasteslikeeverywhere.
ThethoughtstartlesherasshethrowsGwen’scorsetbehindher.Shepullsbackandtheystareateachother,heady,both
ofthemintheirthinchemisesanddrawers,nothingelsebetweenthembuttwolayersofcloth.Theyteeterthere,something
cracklingbetweenthem,andthenthere’saknockonthedoor.
Itsplitsthesilencelikeagunshotandtheywrenchapart,stumblingovertheirskirts.Bythetimethedooropens,Beth’s
acrosstheroomandGwen’sleaningagainstthearmoirebythedoor.They’rethepictureofsuspicionandthetall,imposing
womanwhostepsintotheroomwithaheatingpanandapitcherofwaterlooksbetweenthemwithraisedeyebrows.
“Forthenight,”shesayssimply,handingGwenthepitcherbeforestridingtothebedtoplacethepanbeneaththecomforter.Sheturnsandsurveysthemessoftheirdressesandhoopsandclickshertongue.“Youmightthinkofhangingthosesotheydon’twrinkleandyoudon’ttriptoyourdeathovernight,”sheoffersbeforeexchangingalookwithGwenandleavingtheroom.
ThedoorshutswithafirmsnickbehindherandGwenandBethstareateachother.Gwenclutchesatthewaterpitcher,her
cheeksstainedbrightred,whileBethfiddleswithherchemise.Couldthehousekeepertell?Isitnormaltoenterandfind
skirtsallovertheroom,orwillthisstandoutasstrange,makepeopleaskquestions?
Gwenslowlyputsthepitcheronthebedsidetableandthenplopsdownontotheedgeofherbed,lookingoutattheshambles
they’vemadeoftheroom.Bethtakesashallowbreath,suddenlydesperateforawaytodistractherselffromherracingthoughts.
Shehurriesforwardandbeginsgatheringuptheirdresses,spinningwithbothinherarmsforsomewheretohangthem.Gwen
snortsandstands,guidinghertowardthearmoireandopeningittohandhertwohangers.Togethertheywrestlethedelicate
dressesintothearmoireandthenturntotherestoftheirdiscardedskirts.
Theymoveasateam,sortingtheirhoopsintoorganizedpilesbythearmoireandpickinguppetticoats.Theylaythemover
thevanitychair.Suchasimpleaction,butBethfeelslikeitspeaksvolumes,theirunderthingsthere,together,atopeach
other.
Theystandstaringatthepileoftheirskirts.BethcanfeelthebrushofGwen’schemiseagainstherown,closebutnotcloseenough.Butwhereshefeltconfidentafewminutesago,theappearanceofthehousekeeperhasswalloweduphernerveandshedoesn’tknowhowtoreturntotheirlittlebubble—tobanishthoughtsofwhatthehousekeepermightthink,orLordHavenfort,orMotherforthatmatter
“You’reshivering.”
BethshuddersasGwen’shandglidesdownherback.“Oh,”shesays,blinkingatherownstupidity.
Gwenmerelysmiles,guidinghertowardthefarsideofthebedandthrowingbackthecovers.SheturnsBethandnudgesat
heruntilshesitsdown.BethlaughsasGwenpullsthecoversoverher,tuckingheruptight,beforescamperingaroundthe
bedtocrawlinontheoppositeside.
Andthenit’snotsofunny,bothofthemtherebeneaththecovers,warmedbytheheatingpan,nothingbuttheirchemisesand
themoundsoffeathereddowntoseparatethem.Bethliesstillforamoment,unsureandwantingandnervous,andthenGwen’s
handreachesouttotakehers,squeezing.WiththepressofherfingersBethfeelsthesuretyshefeltinthewinecellar,
thedesperateyearningtofollowGwenandpounceonher—tochaseherintothegardenandpressherintothehedgerows.
Andwithnothingelsetodo,andnomoregracefulideas,Bethgathershercourageanddoesjustthat.ChapterFourteenGwen
GwensqueaksasBethlungesatherthereamongstherblanketsandsheetsandpillows.Butthesuddenpressofherbodyisn’t
atallunwelcome.Gwenhappilysettlesbeneathher,acceptingherweightandherkissandmakinguseoftheirhideawaybeneath
theblanketstorunherhandseverywhere,everywhereshehasn’tbeenabletoyet.
Wheretheywerebothplayfulbefore,nowthey’reequallydesperate,handsandteethandtongues,grabbingandpullingand
squirmingagainsteachotherfrantically,asifthereisn’tasinglesecondmoreandthey’retoberippedfromeachother
inthenextmoment.
ThethoughtslowsGwen’space.They’resafealoneinherbedroom,everyoneelseasleep,andthey’venothingbuttime.Asmuch
asthedesperate,feverishkissesstirinherbellyandwarmherfromtoestoears,shedoesn’twantthistobesomefumbling
messbetweenthem.
Shedoesn’twanttothinkabouttomorrow—abouthowthiscouldbethefirstandlasttimethey’retogetherthisway.Butshe
allowsherselftoknowthatthismatters,andtheymustmakethemostofthismoment,nottossitawayinfraughtpanic.
AndsoGwensucksinthedeepestbreathshecanamidalltheteethandtongueandfabuloussensation,andslidesherhandspurposefully,onestillcradlingBeth’sjawastheykiss,theotherskimmingfirmlydownherside.Bethgaspsatthepressureandherlegscontract,straddledoneithersideofGwen’ships,pressingdowntight.Bethpullsbackjustfarenoughforthemtomeeteachother’seyes.
“Um,”Bethsays,lipsplumpandred,hairindisarray.Theyneverbotheredtotrytakingdowntheirhair.
Gwenlaughs,reachinguptosmoothoneofthedozensofflyawaysfromherface.“You’rebeautiful,”shesays.
Bethblushesfurther,liftingoneofthehandsbracedbyGwen’sheadtotracethelineofherjaw.Itshootstinglesupand
downGwen’sspine.“You’rebeautiful,”shecounters.
Gwensmilesandthenlowersherhands,ruckingupBeth’schemise,raisingabrow.Beth’sflushdeepensbutshenods,shivering
asGwenslidesituphertorso,herfingerstrailingalongforbidden,newlyfreedskin.
AndthenthedamnthingcatchesonBeth’shair.Theygroanandlaugh,stucktherebeneaththeblankets,Beth’sheadlostin
herchemise,pinspokingthemboth.
“Christ,”Gwenmutters,gigglingasBethsquirmsagainsther,thesensationasplayfulasitisarousing.“Here,situp.”
ShemaneuversthembothupsoBethiscradledinherlap,theblanketscurledaroundthem.Shehasenoughroomnowtocarefully
liftthechemiseawayfromBeth’sartfullypiledhair.ShetossesthegarmentawaytriumphantlyandthenlooksbackatBeth.
Thecandlelightglintsoffherskininasoftglow.Gwentakesinthesmallswellofherbreasts,thelonglineofherneck,thepeakofhernipples,thedipofhernavel.She’slikeagoddess,andshe’sthere,inGwen’slap,staringbackather.Whatonearthdoesshedowithherhands?
Gwencurlsherfingersathersides,itchingtoreachout,torunherfingertipseverywhere,andtrailthemwithherlips,
tasteeveryinchofBeth’sexposedskinuntilshe’samoaningpuddleofwantandmessanddesire.Butshecan’tquiteseem
tomove.
Bethblowsoutalittlelaughingbreath,andGwenstartlesashandscupherjaw,guidinghermouthup.Thepressoftheir
lipsunfreezesherandGwenletsherhandscometorestsoftlyonBeth’ships,delightinginthejuxtapositiontherebetween
herdrawersandthesatinofherskin.
Bethsighsagainsther,lipspartingtosuckonGwen’sbottomlip.Gwenfindsherhandsmovingoftheirownaccord,tracing
upward.ShetrailsherpalmsalongBeth’sflanks,drinksinherslightshudderandtheshiftingofherhipsagainstGwen’s
own.SheslowlyglidesherhandsaroundtorestagainstBeth’sstomach,swirlingherfingersaroundBeth’sbellybutton.
Bethgigglesagainstherlipsbutdoesn’tbreaktheirkiss,andGwenfilesherticklishnessawayforlater,toointentto
exploretherestofhertosettlethere,despitethebeautyinherlaughter.ShetakesadeepbreathagainstBeth’smouth
beforeraisingonehandtocupBeth’ssmallroundedbreast,herotherglidingaroundtoanchoronherback.
Betharches,pullingawayfromhermouthonlyfarenoughtorestherforeheadagainstGwen’s.Gwentracestheedgeofhernipple,squeezes,strokes,watchingeveryreaction,repeatinganythingthatmakesBethgasportwitchorwriggle.It’sintoxicating,seeingthatpleasureplayacrossherface,feelingtheachingsoftnessofherskin,knowingthatshecandothistoBeth,cangivethistoBeth.
Shewantstoknowwhatmoreshecando,whatmoreshecanelicitfromthiswoman.SosheleansBethback,nosingdownthe
lineofherthroat,pressingkissestohersoftskin.Bethmoansasshelaysakissagainstthetopofherotherbreast.Gwen
looksup,waitinguntilBethmeetshereyesbeforeloweringhermouthtohernipple,gloryinginthecrythatescapesBeth’s
lips.
Herskinissoftandslightlyroughatonce,andthesoundsshemakes—Gwencouldsettlehere,stayjustlikethisfortherestofherdaysifshecouldsimplyliveinthepressofBeth’s
hipsandthearchofherbackandthesoftdelightofherfleshbeneathhertongue.
ButalltooquicklyBethispullingaway,ruckingGwen’schemise.Gwentriestoleaninward,notreadytorelinquishthis
moment,thisdiscovery.
Bethhuffsather.“Off.Iwanttotouchyoutoo.”
Herlookisinsistent,andthoughGwencouldspendthewholenightsimplylearningthepleasureofBeth’sbody,shecanfeel
herownwantgrowing.Shecan’thelpbutliftherarms,suddenlyeagerformorethanthepressoffleshagainsthermouth.
Eagerforthehipsgrindingintoherownandthepromiseofthemcompletelybaretogether.
Beth’shandsarecarefulbutquick.GwenlaughsasshewatchesBethtossherchemisehighacrosstheroombeforeturningbacktotakeherin.Gwenfeelslikeperhapssheshouldbemodest,butnowthatshe’sknownwhatit’sliketotouchBeth,allshewantsistoknowhertouchinreturn—can’tbeshywhenshewantsthosehandsonhersodesperately.
Bethdoesn’tdisappoint,immediatelytrailingherfingertipsfromGwen’sclavicledowntohernavel.Gwenshudders,butnothing
tickles.There’sonlyatinglingpleasureandoverwhelmingsensationasBethlearnstheplanesofherchest.Asthosesmaller
handscurlaroundherbreasts,touchingherinwaysshe’sonlyevertouchedherself.It’sdifferent,andnew,bututterly,
gloriouslywonderfulandGwenfindsshe’smakingherownsoundsnow.
Theirmouthscrashbacktogetherastheysquirmagainsteachother.Theirbreathishotandloudbetweenthem.Gwenfinds
herhandsmigratingdowntoBeth’shipsoftheirownaccord,tuggingatthelacesofherdrawersandlooseningthemuntil
she’sabletoshimmythemdownherhips.
Bethlowersherhandstodothesame,groaningwhenbothoftheirdrawersgetcaughtagainsttheirthighs.Bethbreaksfrom
hermouthandshufflesoffher.GwenfeelsherlossbothinwarmthandthepressofskinandhurriestocopyherasBethtriumphantly
tossesherdrawersaway.Gwendoesthesameandsuddenlythey’refullynaked.
Beth’sskinisbeautiful,flushedandlovelyinthefirelight.Theysitfacingeachother,chestsstillheavingastheylook
oneanotherover.Beth’ssmallbreastsandnarrowhipsfithersmallframe,thecurlsattheapexofherthighsasdarkas
thosefallingfromherhalf-pinnedhair.ThecontrastoflightanddarkisbewitchingandGwenshiftscloserwithoutthought,
runningahandupBeth’sleg.
ThesofthairraspsagainstherpalmandGwenlooksuptomeetBeth’seyesasshesettlesherhandonBeth’ship.Beth’seyesareblownwide,herlipsplump,hercheekspink.Shelookssoutterlybeautifulit’salmostpainful.
“You’resopretty,”Bethwhispers.
Gwenshakesherhead.“Youare.”
Bethgiggles,blushing,andGwenleansforward,pressingherlipstoBeth’sneckandbreathingherin.Sheslipsherhand
down,down,downfromBeth’ship.Bethshudders,herhandscomingtogripGwen’swaist,jawgoingslackbeneathherlips.
GwenhumsatthewarmwetbetweenBeth’sthighsandgentlypushestolayherdownagainstthesheets,thecomforternowa
lumpinthemiddleofthebed.
Shecontinuesherexploration,mappingalltheplacesthatmakeBethgasp,circlingherfingersandmakingdelicatepatterns
againstthetopofher.Shedelightsinthesqueaksandmoans,intheflutterofBeth’seyelids,inthelittleflareofher
nose,inthewide,searchingpupilsthatmeethergaze.
ShesipskissesfromBeth’slipsassheslipsasinglefingerinsideher,bothofthemstilling.Bethpantsagainsthermouth.
Gwenmarvelsatthefeeling—tobesointimate,socloseastobeinsideanotherperson,insideBeth.Toseeherunraveled
thisway,tohearthewayherbreathhitchesasGwencircleswithherpalmandslowlycurlsherfinger,searchesfortheplace
insideBeththatshe’sfoundbeforewithinherself.Findingthatshecanknowher,canknowwhatwillmakeherhappyandgive
herpleasure.
CanwatchinfascinationandjoyasBethtipsoverthatcrestofpleasure,backarching,legsshaking,breathcominginshortgasps.SheslowlypullsbackherhandandBeth’shipsfallbacktothebed,herbodygoinglaxasthewavepasses.GwenwatchesBeth’seyesflutterbackopen.ShetipsherheadforwardagaintomeetGwen’sgaze,eyesheavy-lidded.GwensmilesandleansdowntopresskissestoBeth’sface,takingamomenttowipeherhandonthesheetsbeforeusingbothpalmstocradleBeth’sjaw.
ThesmellofherlingersbetweenthemandGwenhumsasBethshiftsinherholdtocatchherlipsinakiss.Bethseemsto
regaincontrolofherhandsandsuddenlythey’reeverywhere,skimmingupanddownGwen’ssidesbeforeoneslipsbetweenher
ownlegs.GwennearlyfallsontoBethinsurprise,ashudderconsumingherbody,aheraldofwhat’stocome.
Bethsmilesagainsthermouthandusesherotherhandtoshiftherselfupward,flippingthemslowlyuntilGwenispressed
beneathherinafullreverse.ShesquirmsagainstthesheetsasBethdoesherownstudy.Herhandissmaller,different;
therhythm,themovement,thefeelingofherfingersinsideofGwenisstrangeandnewandexhilarating.Pulsingpleasure
lightsupinherbelly,herlegsshaking,broughtsoclosealreadytotheedgebytouchingBethandkissingBethandfeeling
Bethatopherandinsideherandaroundher.
Shetriestoprolongit,doesn’twantthistoendsosoon,butBeth’sfingercrooksinsideofher,herpalmhardagainstthe
topofher,andGwenfallsoverthatcliffofpleasure,tightandpulsingandrawandmagnificent.GwenclutchesatBeth’s
back,gaspingasBethcontinuesherministrations.Thepleasurelasts,wavescrashinguponwavesasherhipsjerkandher
backtensesandherbellyclenchesoverandoveruntilit’ssomuchshehastopushBeth’shandaway.
SheblinkshereyesopenonlyintimetoseeBeth’sfingersslidefromhermouth.Shegroansattheverythought—tohavemissedit,forittohavehappened.ThesmellofthemminglesallaroundandGwentriestocomebacktoherself,tosummonromanticwords,something,anything.
Allshemanagesis“Holyhell.”
Bethsnortsandfallsdownontoher,pressingasmackingkisstoherlipsbeforecuddlingintoher,herfaceburiedinGwen’s
neck,legslacedbetweenhers.Gwenbreathesherin,wrappingherstill-tinglingarmsaboutherback,handssplayedwideagainst
hershoulders.
“Thatwaswondrous,”Bethwhispers,herlipsbrushingGwen’spulse.
ItsendsyetanothershudderthroughherandGwenwondershowanyoneeverleavestheirbed,ifthisiswhatitistoknow
someoneelse,togiveandreceivepleasure,tokissandsquirmandsigh.Whydotheyleaveatall?Whynotsimplylivelike
thisforever?
“Iloveyou”slipsfromhertongue.
BothofthemstillandGwenclencheshereyesshut,mortified.
Shedoes,shethinks,loveBeth.Howcouldshenot,afterwhatthey’vejustdone,afterhowitjustfelt,afterhowitfeels
nowtoliewithherhere,skincooling,pulsecalming?WhenBethisthefirstpersonshewantstospeakto,firstpersonshe
wantstosee,andwhosesmilemadeherheartflutterlongbeforetheykissed?Andnow—thelookBethgivesGwenasshearches
up,proppingherselfupwithherarmsoneithersideofGwen’shead—itmakesGwen’sstomachflip,hertoescurl.
“Iloveyoutoo,”Bethwhispers,leaningdowntopressherforeheadtoGwen’s.“Iwanttostayrighthereforever.”
Gwengrinsandleansuptocatchherlips,cradlingherfacebetweenherpalms,contenttodojustthat.Themorningwillcome,withitslightanditsreality.Butnow,hereinthecocoonofherbed,intheirlove,withnothingbetweenthem,isaperfectionshe’sneverknown,andsheintendstosavoritforaslongasshecan.ChapterFifteenBeth
“Stopit,”Bethsays,laughing.Gwencontinuespressingupbehindher,lipsskatingkissesalongherthroat,handsonher
hips,asBethtriestofinishherhair.“Thisishardenoughwithoutyoudistractingme.”
Gwensnortsandpullsback,battingBeth’shandsawaytoplacethefinalpinstokeephersleep-and-other-activities-mussed
hairartfullypiledontopofherhead.Gwen’shandsaregentleandprecise,doinganadmirablejobthatjustmakesBethwant
topushherbackdowntothebed.Butthenthey’drubthemakeuphidingtheirtiredeyesintoGwen’swhitesheets.Shealready
feelsstrangeenoughthatthey’llbelaunderedastheyare,smellingofamixofthetwoofthem.
“There,”Gwenannounces,steppingaroundhertolookatherhairstraighton.“Perfectlyacceptable.”
BethrollshereyesandreachesuptoadjustGwen’shairaswell.Herblondcurlshavebetterrecoveredfromtheirtousle,
butbothofthemstilllookwindswept.HopefullyMotherandLordHavenfortwon’taskquestions.TheycansimplyassumeGwen
andBethwereuptalkingallnight.Whichtheywere,ofasort,inbetweenallofthe…decidedlynottalking.
Bethfeelsherselfblush,imagesofthepreviouseveningflittingacrosshermind,hotandjoyfulandheady.
“Stopit.”
“Stopwhat?”Bethasks,blinkingthethoughtsawaybeforeshemeetsGwen’seyes.
“Thinkingaboutlastnight.”
Bethhuffs,notingtheflushclimbingGwen’sneckaswell.“Youstop.”
Gwenlaughsandpullsherinforakiss.Bethsqueaks,alittleungainlyinherhoopafteraneveninginnothingbutherskin.
Andthoughit’slessthantheywereabletohaveinbed,it’sstilllovely,Gwen’shandsonhercheeks,herhandsgripping
atGwen’sskirts.Gwen’smouthishotagainstBeth’sandshethinksmaybetheyshouldskipbreakfastaltogether,pretendto
havealie-in.Maybeactuallyhavea—
“LadyDemerovenhasarrived.”
Theyjumpapartatthefirmraponthedoor.Bethpressesherhandstohercheeks,asifsomeonecouldtelljustbylooking
atherwhatthey’vebeendoing.Butthedoordoesn’topen,andshehearsfootstepsretreatingdownthehall.
“Iguess,”Gwenstarts.
“Right,”Bethagrees,droppingherhandsandforcinghershouldersdown.
Timetoreturntotheworld.
Shehesitates,notquiteready—unwillingtoconsiderthegreaterreality,thatthisislikelythefirstandlast—no,no,she
can’tletherselfgothere,orshe’llweepintoherbreakfast.
Gwenreachesoutandtakesherhand,twiningtheirfingerstogether.SheopensthedoorandconfidentlyguidesBethdownthehall.Itisn’tsostrange,toholdhandswithafriend.Theycangetawaywithatleastthatthroughthehalls.AndsoBethfocusesontheknockoftheirknucklesandthewarmthofGwen’spalm.Sheletsherselfbeleddownthestaircaseandthroughthegrandentrywaytothediningroom.
GwencomestoahaltsosuddenlyBethbumpsintoherback,thetwoofthemteeteringthereinthedoorwaytothemassivedining
room.She’dmarvelattheenormousmahoganytablesetandchandelier,butit’sthesightofhermotherandLordHavenfort
cozilyensconcedatthefarend,chairsclosetogetherandhandsabreathapartonthetabletop,thatstealsherfocus
HermotherisgigglingwhileLordHavenfortwatcheshersofondlyitalmostmakesBeth’schesthurt.Fatherneverlookedat
hermotherthatway,andMotherneverlookedthatfreeintheirowndiningroom.Theonlytimeshe’severbeenthatatease
aroundfoodisinthekitchens,bakingwithMrs.MildredortakingbreakfastwithBeth,farfromherfather’sreach.
Gwen’shandgripsatBeth’sastheywatchtheirparentsinteract.Theirparents,whotheywanttogetmarried,sotheycould
become—Bethswallowshard,herthroattight.Theyweremeanttobegettingtheirparentsengaged,notengagingin…it
themselves.Suddenlytheirsillyplanseemstohavemanifested,buteverything’sbeenturnedupsidedown.
“Thereyoutwoare,”LordHavenfortsays,grinningwhenhecatchessightofthem.“Comein,comein.LadyDemerovenandI
werejustsettingthetermsofourwagerforthematchtoday.”
GwenslowlydragsBethintotheroom,guidingheraroundtositoppositeMotheranddroppingherhandastheygettotheirrespectivechairs.Bethfeelsthelossofherfingerskeenly,barelyabletomeethermother’shappyeyes.IfMotherknewwhatthey’ddone—
“LordHavenfortseemssurethattheUEEwillwinitsmatchagainsttheAEE,whichIhighlydoubt.”
“Doubttothetuneoffivepounds?”LordHavenfortteases.
“Iwouldn’ttakethatwager,LadyDemeroven,”Gwensaysasherfatherpassesheratrivetofeggs.“Fatherwinsallhiscricket
bets.”
“JustbecausehisfatherwenttoschoolwithJemmyDeandoesn’tmaketheupstartsontheUEEgoodplayers,”Motherreplies
primly,smilingoveratBeth.“BethandIalwaysrootfortheAEE.”
“Oh,doyou?”Gwenasks,andBethswallowsattheplayfulglintinhereye.It’sthesameoneshehadbeforetheinfamous
croquetdebacle.“Caretomakeawagerofourown?”
Bethglancesoverathermother,stillfeelingatsea.ButMother’slookbrooksnosurrender,andshe’snotabouttoletMother
getgangedupon,evenbytheirrespective…whatevertheHavenfortsaretotheDemerovensthesedays.
“Fivepounds,”Bethsays,noddingasGwengapes.“GeorgeParr’sgotthelineupallsettled,andthey’vewoneverymatchso
farthisyear.”
“GeorgeParrwouldn’tknowstrategyifitbithimonthearse,”Gwenreturns.
“Gwen,”LordHavenfortinterjects,laughingevenashetriestofrownathisdaughter.Mothersnorts.
“Hewouldn’t!”Gwendefends.
“Well,noofcoursehewouldn’t,butdon’tletmecatchyouusingsuchlanguageatthematch.MissDemeroven,I’mcountingonyoutokeepherinline.You’veheardheratAlbieandBobby’sgames.”
“Oh,no,youdon’theckleatthefirst-classmatches,doyou?”Bethsays,hearingthewhineinhervoice.Motherbeginsto
blush.“Motherdoestoo.”
“Shedoes?”LordHavenfortcrows,grinningoverashermotherslouches.“Inever.”
“Ilearneditfromyou!”Motherexclaims,makingallofthemlaugh.
Bethsettlesintolistenastheirparentsbickerandexplainthematchestheyattendedtwentyyearsago.Howtheywerealmost
expelledonceforpoorbehaviorandMotherwaskeptontheworld’sshortestleashforthenextweekbyhergoverness.Beth
andGweneat,exchangingeasysmiles.Italmostfeels…normal.Asifnothinghappenedthenightbefore—asiftheirplan
issimplygoingswimmingly,andtheycouldallbeeatingatthistable,takingbetsandteasingasonebighappyfamily.
Butastheyallsidleintothestandstogetherhourslater,freshlydressedandtrussedupforapublicouting,thatease
disappears.Inpublic,inthefaceofallthatthey’vedone,Bethfeelsdistinctlyuncomfortable.
Canpeopletellthatthey’velaintogether?ThatthewayGwenpressesupagainstherislessthaninnocent?Thatherbody
stilltingleswiththememoryofthepreviousnight,andtheblushonhercheekshasnothingtodowiththeheatandherskirts,
andeverythingtodowiththehandGwenslipsintoherown?
MotherandLordHavenfortpaythemlittlemind,sittingtooclosetogetherontheirownandnudgingbackandforthastheteamsstepontothefieldforthecaptainstoshakehands.Thestandsarefulltobursting,thewholetonouttoseethisauspiciousmatch.TheAEEundernewmanagement,theUEEstillconsideredanupstartevenfiveyearslater—thecrowdiswildandshecanhearmorethanonewagerbeingmadearoundtheminabsoluteexcess.
“You’regoingdown,”Gwensaysfirmlyastheteamsbegintotaketheirpositions.
“Oh,please,”Bethreplies,squeezingherhand.Gwennudgeshershoulder.“TheUEEcouldn’toutsmartGeorgeiftheyconsulted
mathematicians.They’vegotnothingonourspeedandMortlockcanhitcirclesaroundClarke.You’redoomed.”
“FatherswearsbyClarke.Ithinkyou’llbedisappointed.”
“Well,hecan’tberightabouteverything,”Bethcounters,glancingoveratGwen’sfather,who’swhisperingtoMotherinmuch
thesameway,thoughBethcantellMother’sgivingnoquarterinreturn.“Andhe’swrongaboutthis.”
“We’llsee,”Gwensays,leaningagainsther.“Ifwewin,youhavetostayoveragaintonight.”Herfingersslipdowntoskate
againstBeth’spulse.
“Ithoughtthewagerwasfivepounds,”Bethsays,fightingagainstashiver.
Sheshouldn’tbeabletoaffectBethlikethis,inpublic,withjustherfingersonherwrist.Butthethoughtofwhatelse
Gwen’sfingerscando,andvividmemoriesofwheretheywerejustafewhoursagohaveBethshiftinginherseatandGwen
grinningsmugly.
Shedoesn’tknowiftheycanmanageanothernighttogether.Thoughwiththewaytheirparentsaresitting,cozyandclose,
Beththinkssuddenlyitmightnotbeimpossible.Theysimplyneedtogetthemtogetherforanightcapandfeignexhaustion.
Shecouldn’tpossiblyhaulherselfallthewayacrossthesquare,can’tshejustbunkwithGwenagain?Thethoughtmakesherequallyboldandshe’sabouttoleanbacktoGwenandsuggesttheirwagerbeexchangedforapromiseoflargeractswhensomeonetapsherontheshoulder.
SheturnsandnearlyfallsoutofherseatwhenLordMontsonappearsthereatherside,dapperandgrinningwithhistophat
beneathhisarm.Heplopsdownbesideherandtakesherotherhand,kissingitsback.Gwengripsatherconcealedpalm.
“SogladIfoundyou,”LordMontsonsays,droppingherhandtoleanaroundher.“LadyGwen.LadyDemeroven,LordHavenfort,”
headds.
GwenmanagesabrusquenodandBethhearsMothersayingsomething,butshecan’tquitemakeitoutaroundtheringinginher
ears.Ormaybethat’sthestartingpistolasthegamebeginsreverberatingaroundthepitch.
LordMontson’shere.Besideher.Hersuitor.Likelytoproposewithinthemonth.He’shere,nexttoher,sittingthereall
tallandhandsome,whileGwengripsatherhandwithfingersthathavebeeninsideherandlipsstillslightlyplumpedfrom
herfervidkissesandother—
Bethswallowsagainstamassivelumpinherthroat.Shecan’tescape.ShejusthastosithereasLordMontsongoesonand
onabouttheAEEandtheirsuperiority.Suddenlyshewantstoswitchallegiances.WantstorootforGwen’steamjusttospite
him,thoughhe’sdoneabsolutelynothingwrong.
“I’llgiveyouthatMortlockhasthebattingaverage,butClarkeisfasterandmoreagile,andtheUEEplaysinworseconditions
regularly.They’llhavenotroubleonadayliketoday.See?”Gwensays,leaningaroundBethasClarkehitsovertheboundary
andevadesalltheAEEfielderstorunthewickets.
Bethblinks,hasn’tevenbeenpayingattentiontotheconversationorthegame.Shehadn’trealizedGwenhadpickedupwhereshehadfailed.She’sbeentalkingamicablytoLordMontsonfortenminutes,asthoughabsolutelynothingisamiss.Theirhandsarestilltangledtogetherbeneaththeirskirts,fingersgrippingtoohard,almostpainful.ButGwenlooksforalltheworldlikeeverything’sperfectlynormal.
“That’sjustluckthatAdamsisonthebench,isall,”LordMontsontossesback.“Whatdoyouthink,MissDemeroven?Youthink
Clarke’sgotthemall?”
Bethstrugglestofindhervoice,feelingGwen’sthumbbrushingoverherpulseagain.SheglancesatGwen,whosimplylooks
backatthegame.ButBethcantellfromthetensioninGwen’sjawandshouldersthatsheknowswhatshe’sdoing.Toyingwith
herwithLordMontsonrightbesidethem.
“IthinkMortlockwillwinusthepointsbackonourinning,andClarkewilltripupeventually.Noonecanrunaperfect
game.”
“Agreed,”LordMontsonsayshappily,hisarmbrushinghershoulderasheslipsabitcloser,sandwichingBethbetweenhimself
andGwen.“Wehadachapatschoolwhowouldrunaperfectgameallthewaytotheendofthesecondinning,andthenfumble,
everysinglematch.Droveusalltodrink.”
“Icoulduseadrinknow,”Gwenwhispers,turninghercheektowhisperinBeth’searundertheguiseofstretchingherback.
Bethjustsqueezesherhandandtheysitandwatchthematch,ignoringtheirparents’pleasantbickering.LordMontsoncommentsnowandthen,butBethishappytolosehimtothematch’sintrigue.It’saclosegame.AEElookssettowin,butshecouldn’tcarelessaboutthewagers—can’timaginehowtheygobacktotheircarefreedisregardfortheworldnow,notwithLordMontson’sphysicalpresenceweighingthemdownlikeananchor.
Howfoolishshewastothinktheycouldjustliveintheirhappylittlebubble.Realityhascrashedbackinanditfeelslike
someonehassatdownonherchest,squeezingthehappinessandbreathfromheruntileverymovementmakesherjoltandshe
couldcryfromtheconfusion,frustration,andheat.
“Yousee?”
BethstartlesatLordHavenfort’sbombasticcrow,glancinghiswaytoseehimbeamingproudlyathermother.Mothergrudgingly
handshimthewager,butshe’sstillsmiling.Gwendoesn’textendherhand,choosingtokeeptheirtangledfingersbeneath
themountainoftheirskirtsinstead.Shedoesn’tboastorbrageither,bothofthemsimplysittingthere,sappedofenergy.
LordMontsonchucklesbesideher.
“Well,thatwasinvigorating,wasn’tit?”heasks.Bethmanagestonod,glancingathimwithatightsmilehedoesn’tseem
tonotice.“I’llsendourcarriageforyouandyourmotherfirstthingtomorrowthen.”
Thatbringsherbacktothemoment.“Oh?”
“Forourridingouting,”headds,smilingsoftlyather.
“Oh,ofcourse,”shemanages.“Sorry,theexcitementofthegame.Yes,we’relookingforwardtoit,”shecontinues,forcing
cheerintohervoice.She’dentirelyforgottentheyweresupposedtosurveyhisLondonpropertytomorrow.Howhadsheforgotten
that?
“LadyDemeroven,myfatherandmotheraremostexcitedtotaketeawithyouwhileMissDemerovenandIride,”LordMontson
adds,leaningaroundBethtocatchhermother’seye.“Fatherhasmuchhewantstodiscuss.”
Beth’sstomachdropsasMothergivesherproperexcitedagreement.BethwatchesmorethanfeelsLordMontsonturnbacktoher,kissherfreehand,andtellherhelooksforwardtothefollowingmorning.Shenods,butcanbarelyhearhim.It’slikeeverythingismovingthroughfog.Hesetsoffwithajauntygrinbeforeshecanevenungluehermouth.
“Soundslikeyou’llbegettingaproposal,”Gwensayssoftly,hervoiceflat.HerfingersslipawayfromBeth’ssoshecan
foldherhandstightintoherlap.
Bethcanbarelyswallow,barelyblink.Shecan’tevenchaseafterherhand.Shecan’tmove.Aproposal
“Oh,thisismostexciting.Mysincereapologies,Dashiell,butwe’llneedtopostponeyourvictorydinner.BethandImust
gettothemodiste,addsomedecortothatridingdress.”
“Ofcourse,”shehearsLordHavenfortmurmur.“Butyoumustletusknowhowitgoes.Perhapsdinnertomorrow,ifyou’renot
tootired.”
“Thatwouldbelovely,”Mothersays,evenasBeth’sstomachsinksdowntoherfeet.TogofromaproposaltoGwen’sdining
room,afterlosingeverylastbitofjoyshecouldhave—
“Come,darling,we’venotimetowaste.Goodday,LadyGwen,”Mothersaysassheslipsinfrontofthem,reachingdownto
takeBeth’sfrozenhandandpullhertostanding.
“Goodday,LadyDemeroven,MissDemeroven,”Gwensays,herfaceentirelyblank.Bethstaresdownather.
“Gwen,”shemanagesbeforeMotherpullsheraway.
Shegoes,stumblingbehindher,feelingweightlessanddetached,asifherlegsandfeetandbodyaremovingwithouther.
She’sstillcaughtinthestands,staringintoGwen’semptyeyes.
ChapterSixteenGwen
Thecarriageridebacktotheirtownhouseissilent.Gwenstaresoutthewindow,tryingtomakesenseofthecacophonyof
thoughtsinherhead.Herhorror,herpain,hersadness,theoverwhelmingfeelingofguiltandregret.Andyet,allshecan
trulyfocusonisthefeelingofBeth’shandsonherskin,andthecompletepeaceofthetwoofthemtogether.Howcanthey
givethatupforMontson?
Fatherleadsherfromthecarriageandupintotheirfoyer.Shestandsthere,thinkingofthepreviousnight,oftakingBeth’s
handanddraggingherupstairs.Ofhowshe’llnevergettodothatagain,howlastnightwasit.Forever.
SheturnsandfindsherselfenvelopedinFather’sarms.Shegripsathiswaistcoat,buryingherfaceinhischest,soaking
upthesmellofhiscigarsandpomade—ofhomeandsafetyandchildhood.Itmakesherwishshewasstillsmall,thathecould
wipethepainawaywithakissandasweet.Thathecouldswingheraboutbyherarmsandmakeherfeellikeshewasflying
andbanishallbadthoughtsaway.
Whenitwasjustthetwooftheminherheart,andsheneedednothingelseatall.Nooneelse.
Hepullsbackafteralongmomentandholdsherbyhershoulders,duckinghisheadtomeethereyeswithasadsmile.“It’llbeallright,you’llsee.”
Butshe’snotfouranymore,andhecan’tfixthiswithasmileandapromise.“Itwon’t.”
Fathersighs,consideringher.“Therecanbemorespaceinamarriage.You’llremainfriends.He’llhavetospendmuchof
histimeinLondon,andwhenhedoes,youcanvisitBethinthecountry.It’s…normalforladiestohavecompanions.
You’llseehermorethanyouthink.”
Gwenwatcheshisface,seeshimtryingsohardtomakethisrightforher.Butisthatwhatshewants?Tobeaspinster—to
beinlovewithsomeonemarriedtoanother,keptasadirtysecret—acompanion?Tobeknowntotheworldasthesadlittlefriendwhokeepscompanyinthecountry?Tobeonlyafriend,forever?
“Wouldyoudoit?”shewonders.
Fatherblinks.“What?”
“IfLadyDemerovenhadmarriedherhusbandandkeptyouonasacompanion,tovisitandliewithherwhenhewasaway,would
youhavedoneit?”
Herfather’sfacehardensforamoment,angercomingoverhim,beforehetakesadeepbreath.Hecanbemadattheinsinuation
allhelikes.Shewantstoknow.Wouldhebecontentwiththisarrangement—tobeatawdrysecretbehindcloseddoors,second
toawifeorahusband?
Sheknowsthatit’sheronlyoption.EvenwereBethfinanciallysettled,evenifGwenherselfcouldinheritherfather’stitle,there’snoplaceforthemtogetherintheton.Noplaceforthemtogetherinthecountry,oranywhere.Twowomencannotrunahouse,ownland,livetogetherandlietogetherinpublicview.Companions,yes.Butthereisnomarriagefortwowomen.
Shedoesn’twanttobeasecret,tobesecondtoLordMontsonofallpeople.ToknowBethhasfelthistouch.Tolieinthebedshe’slaininwithhim.
“Wouldyoudoit?”sheasksagain.
“No,”Fathersayssoftly.
“Thendon’taskmeto,”Gwensays,pullingfromhishold.
Shecan’ttakethelookinhiseyes,theheartbreakonhisface.Shedoesn’twanttomakehimhurtforher,whenhe’sbeen
hurtenoughbytheDemerovenshimself.
Insteadsheshutsherselfupinherroom.Shestaresathercrisplymadebed,linenschanged.Athertidiedvanity,rearranged
fromthemessoflastnight.ThepinssheandBethtookfromtheirhairaremixedtogetherinherlatemother’sdish.She
doesn’tknowwhichbelongtoherandwhichtoBeth.Shefallsheavilyontothechairinfrontofthevanity,staringatthis
stupidpileofmetal.
SheknewtheriskswhenshekissedBeth.Sheknewthiswasapainchargingatthemwhensheinvitedhertostaylastnight.
Knewitwhentheykissed,andundressed,andtouchedinherbed.Knewitastheycametoknoweachothermoreintimatelythan
she’sknownanyoneelse—moreintimatelythanshethinksshewilleverknowanotherperson.
Butknowingdoesn’tmakeiteasier.Itfeelslikesomeoneispryingherchestapart,rippingheropenfromtheinsideout
andburrowingatherinnards.Likeaweighthassettleduponhershouldersandtheworldhasgrowndimmerinjustafewhours.
Gwengrowlsatherselfandstands,rippingpinsoutofherhairforsomethingtodowithallofherhurt.
Shewrestlesherwayoutofherdress.Tossesherpetticoatacrosstheroom.Undoesherhoopandleavesitinapileonthefloor.Butthesightofherclothes,rumpledandscattered,justlikeherthingsweremixedwithBeth’slastnight,makesherstallout.
Shestandstheretornbetweenheart-wrenchingsadnessandadeep,pervasivefeelingofemptiness.Likeallthegoodfeelings
she’severhadhaveleftandnowthere’sjustahollowpitinherchest.
Howdoesshemoveonfromhere?
Thedooropens,butshecan’tquitetearhereyesawayfromthepileofclothingonthefloor—fromthedressshewaswearing
whentheskycavedin.
It’sonlywhenhandsgentlyloosenherlacesthatsheseemstocomebacktoherself.Mrs.Gilpeturnsherbytheshoulders,
wrappingheruptight,andGwenpressesherfaceintohershoulder.Mrs.Gilpeswaysthemsidetoside,likesheusedtowhen
Gwenwassmall.She’salwaysbeensternanduncompromising,butinthesemoments,she’ssoftandwarmandsososafe.
“Come,let’sgetyouintosomethingcomfortable.Sally’sbringingupyourfavoritebiscuits.”
GwenfeelsagenuinesmilespreadoverherfaceandletsMrs.Gilpehelpherputonafreshpetticoat.Theylayeranoldhousedress
ontop,comfortableandworn.Andbythetimethey’vegottenherhairdown,Gwenfeelslikeshecanbreatheagain.
Mrs.Stelmslipsintotheroomwithatrayofwarmbiscuitsandteaforthree.Blessbothofthem.“Yourfatherthoughtyou
couldusesomecomfort,”Mrs.StelmexplainsassheplaceseverythingontothebedsidetableandshoosGwenontoherbed.
GwensmilesasMrs.StelmandMrs.Gilpeclimbupaswell,remindingherofwhenshewassmallandtheywouldtellstories.Mrs.Gilperarelyjoinedthem,butitwasalwayssolovelywhenshedid.Comfortableandcloseandlikefamily.
Mrs.Stelmholdsoutabiscuit,andGwentakesit,bitingintothebutteryshortbreadandspillingcrumbsontoherdress.
Shefeelshershoulderscomedownasshechewsandgamelytakesanotheronewhenoffered.Thefooddoeshelp.Afterafew
minutesandsomegulpsoftea,shefeelsalmosthumanagain.
Thesadnesshasn’tlifted,butshefeelslikeshe’sbackinsideherownheadnow,canfeeltheriseandfallofherchest
andthesoftmattressbeneathher.Shesinksagainstherpillows,pullingherkneesuptoherchestasshelooksatMrs.Gilpe
andMrs.Stelm,whosimplywatchherwithglumsmiles.
“Alittlebetter?”Mrs.Stelmasks.
Gwennods.“Thankyou.”
Mrs.GilpesmilesandholdsoutahandforMrs.Stelmtopassherabiscuit.Mrs.Stelmrollshereyes,grabbingthreeand
passingonlyonetoMrs.Gilpe.Gwenlaughs.
“Spoilsport,”Mrs.Gilpemutters.
Mrs.Stelmgigglesandbreaksthethirdcookieinhalf,passingthatoveraswell.Mrs.Gilpegrinsandleansintokissher
cheek.It’ssofastGwencouldhavemissedit,butMrs.Stelmblushesalittle,thetwoofthemsittingcloserthansherealized.
They’rehappytogether,servingandsleepingtogether.Livingthislifethey’vefoundawaytoshare.
TheremustbeawaysheandBethcouldbetogetherlikethis,always.Companionsshehearsinherheadandfrowns.Shedoesn’twantthemtogetheraroundMontson.Shejustwantsthemtogether.
“Doyouregretit?”Mrs.Gilpeasks,thequestionloudagainstthequietroom.
“No,”Gwensays,theanswerimmediateandfirm.Shewouldn’tgiveuplastnightforanything.Toknowthatjoy—evenifthis
istheheartacheshefeelsforeverasaresult—it’sworthhavingknownitevenonce.
“Thenit’sworththepain,”Mrs.Gilpesayseasily.
“You’llknowhappinessagain,”Mrs.Stelmadds.“Companionscanbuildtheirlivesastheyplease.Yourfatherwouldsurely
financeafewmoreyearsforyoubeforeyoufindamatch,andperhapsyoucouldsettleclosetoMissDemeroven.”
Gwenfeelsherstomachclench.It’sonethingtograpplewiththeideaofBethandMontsontogether.Shedoesn’tthinkshe
canbearthethoughtofherselfwithaman.Shedoesn’tthinkshecouldever—thewayBethtouchedher,thewayitfelt—she
couldn’tdothatwithaman,couldn’tfeelthatwithaman.
“Thereareworsewaystoliveahappylife,”Mrs.Gilpeadds.
Gwensighs.“It’snotfair,”shesays,wincingathowpetulantandpettyshesounds.She’snochild.Fairisnotsomethingshe’severexpectedoutoftheworld.
Butshedidn’texpectBetheither.Didn’texpecttofeelthisway.Toknowthatbeyondsimplybeingawoman—secondclass,
chattel,property—shecouldfeelevenlesslikeapersonintheeyesofsociety.Thesewants,thesenewneeds,noonewill
respectthem,savethewomenonherbedandherfather.
“Yourfatherlovesyou,”Mrs.Stelmsays.“Andweloveyou.Andno,itisn’tfair.Butyouwon’tbethrowninprison.”
“That’sagrimsilverlining,”Mrs.Gilpeagrees.
Gwenblowsoutabreath,tryingtofindherresolveandherfortitude.Triestofindsomegratitudethatthisonlycostsherherhappiness,notherlife.ButallshewantstodoisrailatGodfortheinjusticeofallofit.Ofatitleshecan’tinherit,ofahusbandsheneedsforsecurity,ofalovethatcannotexistandaloverwhowillbelongtosomeoneelseinfartoomanyways.
Shesearchesforwordsandcomesupshort,exhaustedandoverwhelmedbyitall.Mrs.Stelmsmilessoftlyandhandsheranother
biscuit,waitinguntilGwentakesherfirstmouthful.
“Sowasitwonderful?”
Gwenchokes,splutteringasshecoughs.Mrs.GilpewhacksatMrs.Stelm,allthreeofthemlaughing.
“Itwas…lovely,”Gwenmanageswhenshecantakeinair,wipingathercrumbymouth.
“We’llhavetogussyyouupforthatdinnertomorrow,seeifyoucan’tgetarepeatperformance.”
Gwenblushesevenasshewinces.Shedoesn’tknowhowtheycouldlietogetherwiththespecterofLordMontson’sproposal
overthem.Butshealsowouldn’twanttogiveuptheopportunity.
“She’sawfullyshort,”Mrs.Gilpesays.
Gwenblinksather.“What?”
“She’sveryshort,andsmall.Justsaying.”
“Soitdoesn’tmatterifit’samanorawoman,you’regoingtojudgethemeitherway,hmm?”Gwensays.
Mrs.Gilpegrins.“Ofcourse,dear.It’sourright.”
“Yes,wedon’tcarewhoyou’rekissing.It’sthekissingwemustteaseabout,”Mrs.Stelmadds.
Gwengroans.
“Andyoudidquitealotofthat,”Mrs.Gilpesays,reachingouttoturnGwen’scheek,exposingthelovebiteshehidwithmakeupthismorning.“Mygoodness,you’regrownwomen.Keepthosewheretheycan’tbeseen.”
Gwenlaughsandpushesheraway,blushinguptoherears.Mrs.StelmandMrs.Gilpestartgoingonaboutthemessfromlast
nightandhowcuteGwenandBethdolooktogether.
Andevenassheknowsitcannotlast,andevenasthegriefoftomorrowloomsaheadofher,Gwenletsherselfbebrieflylost
intheirlightheartedteasing—intheideathatBethcouldbesomeonetheyteaseandtoyabout,whotheycanembarrassher
about,likeauntscrowingoveraman.Sheshouldtakeherhappinessesasshecan,forsheknowsthey’llbeforeverfleeting.
Butatleastshe’llhavethem.
ChapterSeventeenBeth
BethstaresoutatLondon,watchingthedistantcarriagesrumblealongthecityoutskirtsandthesmokerisefromuntoldnumbers
ofchimneys.ThecitystretchesoutbeforethemlikeawindingindustriallabyrinthandBethfindsherselfwishingshecould
simplyescapeintoitandneverreturn.
BecausetheAshmondlandsaregorgeous.ApparentlytheestatebythePeakDistrictisfivetimesaslarge,withitsownlake
andfarmlandandorchard.ButtheestatejustoutsideofLondonissplendidenough.Milesofridingtrailsbothonandoff
thepropertythey’regivenleavetouse,andwiththetreesinfullbloomandthegreenery,it’sabsolutelystunning.She’ll
admitshe’sentirelytakenbytheland.
LordMontson’sbeengentlemanlytoafaultallafternoon,accommodatingandcheerful.She’slistenedashedetailstheland,
thevalue,theirnormalschedules,andeverythingtodowithhisfamily.Partofhermindhasdutifullynoteddownthevarious
auntsandunclesandrelationssheshouldknow,kepttrackofeverydetail.Butthelargerpartofherhasbeenoffinadaydream,
wishingitwasherandGwenoutridinginstead.
Wishingshe’ssimplyfallenasleepinGwen’sarmsandthisisalljustanightmare.Forthoughthebermonwhichthey’vestoppedprovidesawonderfulview,andthoughLordMontsonisalovelyman,andthoughshe’dbericherthanGodandhaveeveryluxury,Bethwantsnothingtodowithanyofit.
Shecanheartheirchaperonesbehindthem,apairofstablehandstaskedwithfollowingatadiscreetdistance.They’rechatting
aboutcropyields,shethinks.She’dratherdiscussthatthancontinuetodiscusstheAshmondfamilyasifit’sabouttobe
herown.
Becauseitis.Theirparentsareatthehouse,andhisfatherisdiscussingthetermsofthearrangementwithMothernow.
Takingteainthevaultedlibrarywithitsmassiveshelves—twomonthsago,Bethwouldhavehappilysaidyesbasedonthebooks
alone.LordMontsonisakindmanwithland,andtitles,andstatus,andsecurity.Heiseverything—thisiseverythingtheywanted,andmorethansheandhermothercouldeverhavehopedtoget.
“Whatdoyouthink?”
BethlooksoverandfindsLordMontsonwaitingeagerly,armsoutstretchedattheview.“It’samazing,”shesayshonestly.
Hegrins,sopleasedbyherapproval.He’scharmingandkindandseemsgenuinelyinterestedandinvestedinheropinion.He’s
perfect,andshestillfeelsthoroughlyemptyinsideabouthim.
“WhenIcanseeitlikethis,italwaysmakesmelongforthecountry,withnothingaroundformiles.”
“Butthenyoucan’tseethehustleandbustleandbegladyou’renotinit,”shereturns,watchingashechuckles.
“Entirelyfair.Doyouthinkyou’dmissit?”
“Thecity?”
“Ofcourse,Ihavetospendsomeoftheyearhere,butIdopreferthecountry.Wouldyoumissthecity,stayingnorthformostoftheyear?”
“Notatall,”shesaysquickly.“Idon’tenjoyLondon,muchlesstheseason.ButIwouldmissmyfriends,”shesays,herchest
achingatthethoughtofcallingGwensomethingasmundaneasfriend
“Theycouldcomevisit,”hesaysgamely.“Anytimeyouwish.AndthenyoucouldevenstayathomewhenIreturnfortheparliament
seasonifyouliked.”
“Youwouldn’tmind?”Bethasks,herbreathcatchingatthethought.
“Notatall.Myfatherisalwaysattheclubmakingdealsandnegotiating.It’sdeadboringformymother.Iwouldn’twant
tosubjectyoutothatunlessyouhadfriendsintownaswell.”
“That’sverykindofyou,”Bethsayssoftly,herstomachclenching.
ShecouldkeepGwen.
Theycouldspendmuchoftheyeartogetherattheestate.AvoidingLordMontson’smother,shesupposes,butstill.Thetwo
ofthem,cossetedinthecountry,awayfrompryingeyes.RunningacrossthemagnificentAshmondlands,rollingthroughthe
forests,splayedoutinenormousbeds—
“Andofcourse,therewouldbespaceforyourmother.Shecouldliveinyourwing,ifyoubothagreed,orthereareafew
guesthousesthatcouldbestaffedforher.Idon’tknowifyou’dwanttobringanyofyourstaffaswell.”
“MissWilson,certainly,”Bethsayssoftly,aleadenweightstartingtoliftfromherchest.
Theysetoffataslowamblebacktowardthehouse.LordMontsonreturnstoprattlingabouthisvariousrelativesandtheirmassiveestates.Beth’smindwhirsdizzily.ShecouldhavesomekindoflifewithGwen.
Theycouldbenear-constantcompanions.There’snothingelseforthemtobe,really.Andwiththisarrangementshe’llhave
themoneytospoilGwensilly.Tobuildupacorneroftheworldjustforthetwoofthem.
She’dsomuchrathermarryGwen,evenifitmeanttheirruin.ButshehasMothertoconsider.ThissetsMotherup.Thisprovides
forthemboth.It’snotthefutureshewouldchoose,ifshehadthechoice.Butgivenwhatshehas…
Hopefillsherheartastheywendbackthroughthehouse.SheandGwenaregoodatscheming.They’llfindwaystospendnearly
alltheirtimetogether.She’llarchitectalifethatcontainsaslittleofLordMontsonaspossible,andfillalltheempty
spacewithGwen.
She’llgettohaveGwen.Shecouldalmostdocartwheels.
She’spulledfromherplanswhenLordMontsonthrowsopenthedoorstothemassivelibrary.Bethbreathesinthescentof
thebooks,almostgiddy.Butthenhershouldersrise,spottingMotherwiththeearlandcountess.LordMontson’stall,but
LordAshmondiseventallerandbroader,abeastofaman.Shewondersifhiswifefindsthatattractive,orifshetoofeels
intimidated,andevenalittlethreatenedwhenheloomsoverher.
LordMontsonguidesBethintotheroomandtheycometostandattheendofthelowtablethatseparateshisparents’two
armchairsfromhermother’ssettee.Bethdipsinwhatfeelslikeaveryunsteadycurtsyandsmilesasbrightlyasshecan
manage.
“IhopeHarryshowedyouthebestofthegrounds,”LordAshmondsays,hisdeepvoicereverberatingaroundthem.
“Hedid,”Bethsays,lookingbetweenLordandLadyAshmond.“Yourlandsandyourhomearesobeautiful.”
“We’redelightedyouapprove,”LordAshmondsays.“Unfortunately,Harry,wemustbegoing.But,wehavearrangedforthetwo
ofyoutomeetinfourdays’time.Thatshouldbemorethanlongenoughtohaveeverythingfinalizedwiththesolicitor.Say
yourgoodbyes,son,andwe’lltakeourleave.LadyDemeroven,”hesays,noddingtoMother,whocurtsies.
LordMontsontakesBeth’shandandkissesit,grinningather.“I’llseeyousoon,”hepromises,lookingsoabsurdlycheerful.
Shenods,keepingthatpastedsmilewideonhercheeksasheandhisfatherleavetheroom.Theirfootstepsgraduallydisappear.
EvenLordAshmond’streadisheavy.
BethturnsbacktohermotherandLadyAshmond.Fourdays?That’sallshehas?
Butshe’llhaveGwen.Shejusthastokeepremindingherself,she’llhaveGwen.Shecanlivethroughanythingifitwillgive
hernightsanddaysandsunriseswithGwen.
“Weshouldbegoingaswell,”Mothersayssoftly.“Thankyousomuchforyourtime,LadyAshmond.”
“YoumustcallmeBess,”thewomansays,smilingabsentlyatthemboth.“Andofcourse,ofcourse.I’llhaveamessengersent
overwithdetailsfortheweekend.Haveagoodevening,bothofyou.”
“Thankyou,”Bethmanages,dippinginanothercurtsybeforeshetakesMother’sextendedarm.
Theywalkslowlyfromtheroom,politeandcourtly.Concerningly,Motherdoesn’tsayanythingoncethey’reinthehall.She
shouldbegrinning,beaming.Sheshouldbeecstaticatthematchthey’vejustsecured.
Instead,herfaceiscuriouslyblankandtheirretreatfromtheestateissilent.Evenoncethecarriagedoorshaveshut,Motherdoesn’tgiveanythingaway.Bethopenshermouth,butMothershakesherheadandcloseshereyes,leaningbackagainsttheseat.
Bethvibrateswithanxiety,forcingherselftobreatheasshelooksoutatthepassingcity.It’snearlyathirty-minuteride
homefromtheAshmondestate.ButMotherwon’tbudge.
Bythetimethey’vearrivedattheirtownhouse,Bethisreadytoscream.Thisisherlifethey’renottalkingabout.She’s
abouttobemarriedoffforanestateandatitle.Shedeservestoknowhow,andwhatfor,andunderwhatconditions.She
deservestoknowhowtostartplanningherfuture.
Motherpracticallyleapsfromthecarriagewhentheycometoastop.Bethstrugglestounfoldherskirtsandclimbdownafter
her,hurryingupbehindherevenashermothervaultsupthestairs.Sheonlymanagestocatchherarmoncethefrontdoor
slamsbehindthem.
“Whathappened?”Bethdemands,holdingfastevenasMothertriestopullaway.
It’slikeshewantstorunfromBeth,andifeitherofthemshouldhavethatright,Beththinksitshouldbeher.
“LordAshmondsaiditwasallarranged.Didsomethinggowrong—aretheynotagreeing?”
“Everything’sfine,”Mothersays,stillturnedawayfromher,hershouldershigh.
“Mother,”Bethinsists.
Butwhensheturnsback,Bethwishesshehadn’t.There’ssomethingwrongthereonhermother’sface,somethingbrokenandbruised.ShelooksthewayshedidtheonlytimeBethrecallsFatherhittingher.Shedidn’tseeit,butsheheardtheslapwhenMothertriedtoargueBethshouldbepresentedearly,togiveheraseasontogetusedtotheton.Fathersaidthattheyneedn’twastemoneyonBeththatway.MothersaidFatherwastedmoneyonfrivolitieseveryday;howcouldhebesocruelandcapriciousaboutBeth?Andheslappedher.
HerfacelooksthewayitdidwhenshewalkedoutofhisstudyandfoundBethinthehallway.It’sacrackedlook,likethe
worstofthedamageisbelowtheskin.AndBethremembershowMotherretreatedintoherselfafterthat,formonthsandmonths.
Howshelosthersparkleandslowlyturnedintothisversionofhermother,withhersingle-mindedfocusandintensity
“Whathappened?”Bethpresses.
“LordMontsonwillproposeonSaturday.You’llhaveallthelandyoucouldeverwant,afortuneforgenerations,andthey’ll
putmeupsomewherelavish,I’msure.”
“Isn’tthatwhatyouwanted?”Bethasks.“Whatwewanted,”shecorrectsquickly.
ShegetsGwen.ShecanlivethroughanyofitifshecanhaveGwen.
“Itis,”Motheragrees.
“Then—”
Mothercloseshereyes,takingadeepbreath.Whensheopensthem,they’reharder.“WecannotseetheHavenfortsanymore.”
It’stheabsolutelastthingBethexpectstohear.Shethoughtmaybesomeonewasdying.“What?”
“DashiellhasbeeninstrumentalingarneringsupportfortheMatrimonialCausesAct,andLordAshmondisvehementlyopposed.Apparentlythere’sbeensomebribery,I’mnotsureonwhoseside,butthebloodhasgonebadbetweenthem.Itwashisonedemand.”
Bethstaresathermother.“Hedemandedit?”
Mothernodsslowly.“Iplannedtofindagentlerwaytobreakittoyou.IknowhowfondyouareofLadyGwen.”
“That’sabsurd,”Bethsays,hervoiceringingaroundtheroom.Howpettyandvindictiveandabsolutelyridiculous—
“IfwecontinueconsortingwiththeHavenfortsIamcertainhewillrescindhisapprovalandthatwillmarkyoufortherest
oftheseason,”Mothersays.
Bethjuststaresather,hereyesstingingwithrisingtears.Motherstepsforward,obviouslyabletoseethebrimminganguish
onherface,butBethstepsback.
“I’llstopseeingDashiellaswell,”Mothersays,likeit’ssomesortofconsolationthatthey’llbothbemiserable.
“Ican’tgiveupGwen,”Bethsays,hervoiceraw,fistsclenched.“Iwon’t.”
“Beth.”
“Andyou,”sheadds,swipingathercheeksandshakingherhead.Shewon’t,shewon’tbelievethis.“Youcan’tjuststopseeing
LordHavenfort.Youlikehimsomuch.Hemakesyousmile.”
“I’mnotworriedabout—”
“Hemakesyouhappy.You’veneverbeenhappy!”Bethexclaimsroughly.“AndyouwanttogivethatupjustsoIcanmarrysomeone?”
“Whatelsearewesupposedtodo?”Mothersnaps,hervoiceadampenedshoutthatreverberatesaroundthem.“Yourunclewantstheresidenceassoonastheseason’sover.He’salreadyarrangingfordeliveriestotheestate.We’reabouttobeoutofahouseandwhat’sleftofmysettlementwon’tgetusthroughsixmonths.Wecannotthrowawayouronechanceforstabilityfor—”
“Forwhat?”Bethshoutsback.“Forlove,friendship,meaningfulconnection?”
“You’dratherwebeonthestreetsthanmarrytheheirtotheAshmondfortune?”Motherreturns.
“Wewouldn’tbeonthestreets.I’msurewecouldstaywiththeHavenforts.”
“Andsealyourfateawaytobeaburdenofcharityonyourfrienduntilyoudie?Wewouldneversurvivethescandal,”Mother
saysfirmly.
“Idon’tcare,”Bethsays.
“LordAshmondwillensurethereisn’tanotherofferforyouifyourefusehisson.Notthisseason,notnext,possiblynot
ever,”Mothercontinues,likeBethhasn’tevenspoken.
“Idon’tcare,”Bethyells,herwordsbouncingaroundtheroom.“Ican’t—wecan’tjustgivethemupbecauseLordAshmondis
angryaboutsomestupidact!”
Motheropenshermouthandthenshutsit,jawclenched.Sheraisesahandtorubatthebackofherneck.Shemustbegetting
aheadache.Bethfeelsonecomingonherself.ButtheywillstandhereuntilMotherisdisabusedofthisridiculousnotion
thattheyhavetogiveuptheironlyhappiness—thatBethhastogiveupGwenforsomestupidfightLordAshmondhaswith—
“LordMontsonisaniceman,”Mothersays,somuchmorethanexhaustioninhervoicenow.
“What?”Bethasks,rippedfromherownsinkingthoughts.
“He’saniceman.Hedotesonyou.He’llbekindtoyou,giveyoueverythingyoucouldwantinlife.”
Bethhesitates.OfcourseLordMontsonisnice.Buthe’ssimplythat,nice,nothingmore,nothingless.
“You’llhaveasafe,happymarriage.Whatmoreisityouwant,Beth?Explainittome.”
Justbecausehermotherhasgivenupdoesn’tmeanBethhasto.
“Iwanttobeloved,”Bethsayswithouthesitation.“Iwanttofeelmorethanblandfondnessforthemanwho’llbeinmybed
andownme.”
Motherstepstowardher.“Youcouldgrowtolovehim.”
“LikeyougrewtoloveFather?”Bethspitsback,watchingasMotherstopscold,theburgeoninglookofunderstandingsliding
fromherface.
“Themanwehavefoundforyouisgentleandkind.Ifyoucannotgrowtolovehim,youwillbesecureknowinghewillnever
hurtyou.Itissomuchmorethanmostgirlsgettoask,andhe’sthrowingitallatyourfeet.”
“Soitdoesn’tmatterifIneverlovehim,”Bethsays,fistscurlingintoherskirtsasshestaresathermother.
Sheseesitsoclearlynow.Lovehasneverbeenpartoftheequationinhermother’smind.Ahappyaccident,possible,but
neverthegoal,notever,notonce.Allthoseplatitudes,allthoseapologies,andsheneverexpectedBethtohaveit.Because
she’sneverexpecteditforherself.
“Itisthemostwecangetandyoushould—weshouldbothbegrateful,”Mothersays,steppingforwardtoholdherbytheshoulders,
duckingherheadtocatchBeth’seyes.“You’llbesafe.”
Regretlivesinhermother’sgazeandshestepsforward,slidingherhandsaroundtopullBethagainsther.Bethholdsstiffinherarms,fightingagainsthercomfort.
Theonetruehopeforhermother’shappinesswillhavetobeshovedasidejustasBeth’swill.Theirswillbeastrangely
mutualgriefandloss,astheydepartforalifebeneathanotherthumb.Itshouldmakeithurtless,thesolidarity.Butit
justmakesherangrier.
“YoucouldgrowtoloveLordMontson,”Motherwhispers,strokingatherbacklikesheusedtodowhenBethwassmall.“Affection
canblossomovertime.Youhaven’tfeltloveyet,youmightbesurprised.”
“Iknowwhatloveis,”Bethsays,feelingthewordslikeaslapagainstherface.Shepullsbacksoshecanstepoutofher
mother’sarms.“Likemother,likedaughter.”
“Beth,”Mothersayssoftly.
“Ineedtoliedown.You’llhavetotellmewhatyoutoldLordHavenfortlasttime.IcansaythesametoGwen.”
Theheartbreakonhermother’sfaceshouldgivehersomekindofvictory,butallitservestodoismakeherownchestache
assheskirtsaroundMotherandmarchesupthestairs.Herbodyisheavyandherheadhurts.Whenshefinallymakesitto
herroom,shehasn’teventheenergytoslamthedoor.
Instead,sheletsitsnickshutbehindherandstumblesovertoherbed.Sheslidestothefloortobraceherbackagainst
thefootboard,pokedandproddedbyherhoopandbuttons.Herskirtisamoundofcottonandstarchingaroundher.Shestares
attheemptywallandthenleansherheadbacktolookblanklyupattheceiling.
ShehadconvincedherselfshecouldlivewithallofitifitmeantshecouldhaveGwen.Companions—suchameagerword.Butitwasaword.Itwasarelationship.Itwassomething
Itwasheronechanceatlove.Andnowit’sgoneinonebrutalstrike.
Inthisroomthatisn’thers,thishousethatisn’thers,shesitswithalifeaheadthatwon’tbeherseither,devoidof
allhappinessanddesire.Nolove,nohope,noGwen.
There’snowayoutbutforward.Likemother,likedaughter.ChapterEighteenGwen
TheHarringtonshaveembracedextravagance.Flowersseemtoburstfromeverycorneroftheirexpansivebackgardens.Ribbons
andstreamershavebeenartfullydrapedaroundthetopiariesaswell,withbeautiful,enormousfloralcenterpiecesoneach
ofthetwodozenroundtableslaidoutalongthelawn.
HalfthetonmustbeattendingandGwenwishesforthefifthtimethatsheandFatherhadbeenabletocomeupwithaviable
excuse.LadyDemerovenandBethdeclinedtheirlasttwoinvitationsfordinner,andneitherhasheardathingfromthemsince
thedreadedmeetingwiththeAshmonds.LadyDemerovenbeggedoffwithalightcoldbothtimes,butneitherGwennorFather
quitebelievesit.
Butthere’snowayLadyDemerovenwouldmissthisteaandtheopportunitytotalkupherdaughter’smostfortuitousmatch.
Forthoughtheyhaven’tseentheDemerovens,thenewsthatthere’sanimpendingproposalcertainlyhasreachedthem.
Gwen’sstomachfeelspermanentlyknotted.Shesucksonhercheekasshelooksaroundthegarden,halfdesperatetospeakwithBeth,andhalfdeterminedtoavoidheratallcosts.Shedoesn’tknowifshe’llbeabletosmilebrightlyandcongratulateher.Notwhensheknowsitdoomsthembothtoahalflifewithouteachother.
She’sbeentrying,shehas,toconvinceherselfthatahalflifeisbetterthannone,buttheideastillsettlessourinher
mouth.Father’sbeengivingherextraattention—chessmatches,fencing,evensomelow-levelhorsegamblingaheadoftheAscot
openingnextweek.Butithasn’tbeenenoughtodistracther.She’shorriblecompany.
Andnowshehastosmileandnodandlookatleastpassablyinterestedastheyapproachtheguests.It’sallshecanpromise,
despitethefactthatsheandFatherreallyshouldbeecstaticforthewholeevent.ShefeelsFatherstarttopullawayand
holdsfasttohiselbow,unabletoletgoofhisquietsteadiness.
“It’llbefine,”Fathermurmurs,raisinghisotherhandtosqueezehersinthecrookofhisarm.“GoandfindAlbieandLady
Meredith.Focusonthem.”
“Andwatchthemmakemooningeyesateachotherallafternoonuntilthebigevent?”
Fathersnorts.“Youcouldspendtheafternooninterruptinganytimealonetheygetinstead,wouldn’tthatbefun?”
Gwenwrinkleshernose.Itshouldbecruellyentertaining,butit’snot—she’drathersneakoffforherowntimealone.The
Harringtongardensareexpansiveandwending.SurelyshecanfindanopportunitytostealBethawaytoaquietcorner,at
leasttotalk.Ortoseehowfarshecanpressherintoahedgerowwithoutdamagingherhair.
Fathernudgeshershoulderandthenpullsaway,headingfortheclusteroffathersonceagainonthedeck.Therearetwodistinctfactionstoday;likelymoretodowiththeMCA.Whenhehasn’tbeentryingtogoadherintoanythingchildish,it’sallFather’sspokenaboutforthelastweek.Andsheunderstandstheimport—wouldandperhapswillbegratefulsomedayfortheabilitytoseekanendtoanunhappymarriagewithoutneedingtoapproachthechurch—butthepoliticsofitallisfretfullyboring.
Gwenallowsherselfabriefhesitation,teeteringthereontheedgeofthelawn,beforeshesettleshermaskintoplace,all
confidenceandswagger.Justbecauseherbestfriendand…loverisabouttomarrytheseason’smosteligiblebachelor
doesn’tmeanshecan’tstillwalktall.She’drathercurlupinaballandsob,butthat’sasforbiddenhereasherrelations
withBeth.
Shestridespurposefullythroughtheparty,noddingtothehappycouplesattablesandonpicnicblankets,pretendingshe
hassomewheretobewhiledesperatelylookingforafamiliarface.ShefinallyspotsAlbieandMeredithbythedrinkstable
andhurriestheirway.
Theylooknauseatinglyhappy.Meredith’samountainofpalegreentulleandlacewithacomicallylargebonnet,buthersmile
isbrightandhercheeksarefetchinglypink.Gwen’sneverreallynoticedbeforehowniceablushlooksonher.Albieissimilarly
flushedandgrinning,lookingashappyasshe’severseenhim.It’salmostenoughtomakeherveeroffforthegardens,but
Albiespotsherandwaveshertheirway.
Withaforcedpolitesmile,Gwenstepsuptojointhem,gratefullytakingthefluteofchampagneAlbiepassesherway.
“Lovelyparty,isn’tit?”Albieoffers.
Gwennodsandtakesanoverlargesip,tryinghardnottolooklikeshe’ssearchingbehindthemforBeth.“Haveyoubeenhere
preparing?”
“Aboutanhour,”Albiesays.“YouandLordHavenfortarefashionablylate.”
“Myapologies,”Gwensays,givingAlbiealookbeforemeetingMeredith’sgaze.“Fathergotcaughtupinsomepolitics.It’s
awonderfulspread.Yourmothershouldbeveryproud.”
“Oh,Motherhadnothingtodowithit,”Meredithsayswithalaugh.“Itwasallmeandourhousekeeper.”
“Thenyoushouldbeproud,”Gweninsists.
Muchasit’snotatallherscene,andshefindstheentirenotionofplanningpartiesabhorrent,itisalovelypicnic.The
gardensareresplendent.Carehasbeentaken,it’sclear.
“Well,Iwantedtomakesureeverythingwasperfectfortoday,”Meredithsays,glancingupatAlbie,whobeamsbackather.
Gwenforcesanexcitedsmile,unwillingtospoilwhatevertensionliesbetweenthem—whateveranticipation.Shedoesn’twant
herdispleasuretoshow,thatshe’llbeobligatedtostaytothebitterend,withhercousingettingengagedinthemiddle.
Noduckingoutearly.
“MissDemerovenwentforawalkinthetopiaries,ifyou’dliketoseeher,”Albiesays,offeringitcasually,thoughshe
canseesomeglimmerinhiseye.Isitobvioustoeveryonehowattachedthey’vebecome?
“Iwouldn’twanttomissanything,”Gwensaysslowly.Herwholebodynearlyvibrateswiththeurgetothrowherselftoward
themazeofhedgesatthebackendofthegarden.
“Ithinkyou’resafewithanhourorsoofwandering,”Meredithsayswithashrug,glancingupatAlbie.“Wouldn’tyousay?”
“Anhourandahalf,even,”Albiehedges.“We’reexpectingafewstragglers.”
“Ofcourse,”Gwensays,barelykeepingfromshakingherheadattheirobviousdelight.“I’llseeyoulaterthen.”
“Bye,”Meredithsaysvaguely,andthetwoarelostagainineachother’seyes.
Moonylovebirds,thetwoofthem,Gwengrousesassheglancestowardtheopendoorstothesolarium.ShecanjustseeLady
Demerovenpullingherfatheraside.Hegrinsatherandduckshisheadtolisten.Gwenbitesathercheek,unabletowatch
themsohappywhenherowninsidesfeelsotwisted.
Sheskirtsthelargehedgerowuntilshegetstothebackofthegarden,wheretheHarringtonpropertyopensupintoamaze
ofgreentopiaries,flowerbushes,andfountains.Hardlyappropriatetoroamonherownwereitevening,butshethinksshe
cangetawaywithitindaylight,especiallyifit’sinsearchofafriend.
OrwhateveritissheandBetharetoeachother.
Shewalksdownthecentralrowandthenpausesatthefirstfountain,unsurewhichwaytocheckfirst.Unsureifshetruly
wantstofindBethhere.Fornowthatshe’saloneamongtheflowers,she’snotconfidentatallthatshe’llbeabletokeep
hercoolwhensheseesBeth,northatshe’llbeabletokeepherhandstoherself.Andwhilethiswasexactlyherfantasy
uponenteringtheparty,shefindsthelongershewandersthehedgesthemorethatfantasyturnstoknotsinherstomach.
BythetimeshecomesaroundanotherendlesscorneranddiscoversBethloiteringatadeadend,nailbetweenherteeth,Gwen’s
brokenoutinacoldsweat.Shestares,watchingBethpace.
Bethisradiantinapalebluedresswithlow-cappedsleevesandaplungingveeacrosshercollarbones,bareheadedandbare-armed—herbonnetisonthegroundafewfeetbehindher,alongwithhergloves.Theentireeffectiswonderfullyfetchingandprettyandsobeautifulitactuallyhurts.GwenthinksshecouldwatchBethforhours—couldthinkaboutpressingherlipstoeveryinchofherexposedskin—couldfantasizeaboutleaningherbackagainstthehedgerowandclimbingbeneathherskirtstomakehermoan.
“Oh!”
GwenstartlesasBethjumps,spottingherwithahandtoherheart.“Sorry,”Gwenmanages.
“Youscaredme,”Bethsays,hervoicerough.
Gwenshrugsguiltilyandfindsherfeetmovingoftheirownaccorduntilshe’sanarm’slengthaway.ShewantstograbBeth
bythewaistandpullherinforakiss,butBethstepsback,worryingherhandstogether.
Gwenrocksonherheels,ballingherownhandsintoherpurpleskirts.ShewatchesBeth,notesthewayshe’sbitingather
lip.
“So,howwasit?”Gwenasks,wincingthemomentthewordscomeout.
“What?”
Shesighs.“The—ridingwithLordMontson.Hisgroundsaresomething,aren’tthey?”shecontinues,goingforinterestedand
genuine.Shecanbesupportive.Shecan.Whatotherchoicedoesshehave?
“They’re…fine,”Bethsays.“They’re—alot.”
“Goodviewofthecity,”Gwenagrees.
“Yes.Nicetobeoutofitattheleast,Isuppose,”Bethsayswithalistlessshrug.
“Wasittheperfectspotforaproposal?”
Damnit,whyishermouthlikethis?Beth’sfacefallsandGwenfalters,tryingtofindthewordstorepairit.
“It’snotsometriviallittlething,”Bethhisses.
“Iknow,”Gwensaysquickly.
“It’ssacrificesandplanningandpaperwork,”Bethrattlesoff.“Somucharranging,anddiscussion.”
Gwenblinks,feelingasthoughherhearthasfallenallthewaytohertoes.“Didhereallyaskyoualready?”
Bethmeetshereyes,surprised,andshakesherhead.“Notyet.”
“Butsoon,”Gwensurmises.
“Bytheendoftheweekend,”Bethsays,boththeirvoicessuddenlylowandhushed.
Gwencandistantlyheartheparty,butit’snothingtothethudofherpulseagainstherears.“That’sbeforeAscot.Iguess
you’llbeinhisenclosurethen,ratherthanonthegroundswithus?”
Shetriestosayitlightly,butthehunchofBeth’sshouldersprovesherwordsstillcarryabite.She’strying,sheis,
butit’slikeherchestiscrackingintwo.
“Probably,”Bethsays.“ButIcan’t—”Shepauses,andGwenwatchesherknucklesgowhitefromthestrainofherfingerstogether.
“What’swrong?”Gwenasks,feelingthedistressonBeth’sfacelikeagriponherstomach.
Shestepsforward,unsureofwhatshecanoffer,butwantingtooffersomething.BethstepsbackagainandGwenpauses,watching
assheshakesherhead.
“Mother’sgoingtofindyourfather.”
“Oh,”Gwensays,confused.“Shefoundhim.Isshefeelingmuchbetter?”BethshakesherheadagainandGwentakesanotherstep.“Issheallright?”
“She’sfine,”Bethsaysquickly,broughtoutofwhateverstateshe’sinenoughtorecognizeGwen’sconcern.
“Thenwhat’sthematter?”Gwenasks,hertoneaslightandairyasshecanmanage.
Beth’sfaceonlycrumplesfurther.“Yourfather’sgatheredsupportfortheMatrimonialCausesAct.”
Gwenblinks.“Hehas.”
“Andhe’shadtomakesomeagreements,movesomestockoptionstoenticevotes,”Bethcontinues.
“Isuppose.”Bethstaresather,lookingsoforlornGwentakesanothersteptowardher.Bethgoestostepbackyetagain,
butshe’salreadyupagainstthehedge.“Beth,what’shappened?”
Bethtakesashudderingbreath,andit’sonlynowthatthey’reafewfeetapartthatGwencanseethetearsonhercheeks.
“Wewon’tbeabletomakeourdinner,”Bethsayssoftly.
“Oh,allright,”Gwenreplies,reachingouttosnagoneofherhands,worriednowforhercuticles.“Isthatall?”
“Wewon’tbeabletoreschedule,”Bethsays,herchinquivering.
“IsMontsontakingyoutoseehiscountryestateorsomething?”Gwenasks,tryingtosmilethroughit.
Bethshakesherhead.“No.No,it’s—”Shetakesashakybreath,usingherfreehandtowipeathercheeksevenasherother
clutchesatGwen’sfingers.
“Hassomethinghappened?Areyouandyourmotherallright?”
Bethslowlymeetshereyes.“IfImarryLordMontson,Ican’tseeyouanymore,”shepushesoutinarush.
Gwenstills,herhandatoo-tightvisearoundBeth’s.It’slikewindisrushingbyherearsthoughthedayisthoroughlylovelyaroundthem.“What?”sheasks,inelegantandoverloud.
“Thedealsyourfather’smade,thestockshe’shadpickedup—heapparentlyboughtLordAshmondoutofahugeinvestmentand
he’slivid.Hisoneconditiononthemarriageisthatwebreakcontactwithyouandyourfather.”
Gwenblinksather.Shehearsthewords,buttheydon’tmakesense,sloshingaroundinherhead.“You…tomarryMontson,
hisfatherisinsistingyoupromisenottoseemeanymore?”
“AndMothercan’tseeyourfathereither,”Bethsaysquickly.
“That’sabsurd,”Gwensaysfirmly.“Montsondoesn’tcare.”
Bethletsoutastartledlaugh.“OfcourseMontsondoesn’tcare,”shesays,herwordshard.“Buthisfatherdoes.Andwe’d
belivingwiththem.Wewon’t—ifIdon’tsayyes,wewon’thaveanywheretolive,”Bethsays,voiceturningbrittle.“Idon’t
wantto,butIdon’thaveachoice.”
Gwenjuststaresather,tryingtocomprehendit—thisridiculous,pettydemand.Howcanitmatterwhotheysee,howcanit
jeopardizeamatchsimplytospendtimetogether?
Beth’shandgripsathersandGwenfindsherfooting,meetingBeth’seyesasherownfill.“Sothat’sit?”
“Iwantedtocometodinner,”Bethsaysdesperately.“Iwantedtocometodinner,andstaythenight,andtellyoualone—to
have—”ShetugshardonGwen’sarm.
Gwenstumblesforward,breathhitching.Bethwrapsherarmsaroundher,theirskirtsbumping,awkwardandfullofangles.
Shestiffens,thoughtswhirring,herbodywarringbetweenoutrageandheartbreak.ButBethholdsontight,shiveringinto
her.
“Iwantedonemorenight,”Bethwhispersintoherneck.
HeartbreakwinsandGwenwrapsherarmsaroundBeth,turninghercheekintothesideofBeth’sface,staringattheleaves
ofthehedge,almosttooclosetoseedistinctly.Ormaybethat’sthetearsinhereyes.
Shethoughtshe’datleastgettokeephalfofBeth—allthistimeconvincingherselfthatshecouldlivethatphantomlife,
sneakinghappinessinsnippetsandsnatches.Thattheycouldlivetogetheramongthehedgerows,secretandillicit.Never
whattheyshouldhavehad,butsomuchmorethannothing.Andnow—
There’snothingshecanofferthatwouldstopthismatch.Theironlysolutionhasbeenstruckdownbytheearl.Theirparents
won’tmarry,sothatBethcan.AndBethhastomarryMontson.Shehastobemarriedbyseason’send.
Gwen’sbeenlivinginafantasy—clingingtoachildish,stubbornbeliefthattheycouldoutplaytheodds,couldcreateafairy-tale
ending.
Butit’snottobe.Likeaknifetotheheart,Gwenhastolethergo.Sheloveshertoomuchtoholdon,todamnhertothe
mercyoffriendsandfamily.Andevenifshecould—ifshecouldtwistdestitutionintoromance,LadyDemerovenwouldnever
allowit.BethwillmarryLordMontson.
“Ican’t,”Bethmurmursintoherneck.
Gwensucksinabreath,turningtopressherlipstoBeth’sslightlysweatyhead.“He’ll—”Shepauses,draggingthewords
upherthroat.“He’llbegoodtoyou.”
“Idon’tcare.”
“You’llhavemoney,andtime,andchildren,”Gwencontinues,staringblanklyatthefuzzyleaves.
“Hewon’tbeyou,”Bethsays,lipsagainstherskin.
Gwenshuddersandpullsback,wantingonemomenttosavor,onemomenttoremember.“We’llwriteletters,”shesays.
“Stopcomfortingme,”BethexclaimsandGwenblinks.
“What?”
“Youshouldbeyelling,”Bethsays,voicestuffedbuteyesblazing.“Youshouldbeangry.”
“OfcourseI’mangry,”Gwensays,abletofeelherragebeneaththebrimmingsadness.“Butwhatdoyouwantmetodo?Gopunch
Montsonorhisfather?”Bethsnortswetly.“Runawayandbeaseamstress?”
“Youcan’tsew,”Bethremindsher.
“Youwantmetobemad?Wantmetoyellatyou?Wantmetotellyouyoucan’t,andthatIhateyou?Isthathowyouwantthis
togo?”
“No,”Bethsaysroughly.
“Thenwhat?”
ShestumblesasBethsurgesforward,takingGwen’sfaceinherhandstodragherdownintoasearingkiss.Gwengasps,her
bodygoingslackinshock,beforeinstincttakesoverandshe’sgrippingback.Bethspinsthemandpushesherintothehedges,
justasGwendreamedofdoingtoher.SheclutchesatBeth’swaist,drinkingfromherlips,theirbreathinhotpulsesbetween
themastheykiss.Headyandillicitandforeverforeverforever.
Justasshebeginstothinkmaybetheycouldstaylikethis,inaliminal,timelesseternity,there’sacoughthatseemsto
echothroughthehedges.Bethjerksawayfromher,stumblingbackward,bothoftheireyeswideandhorrified—ifanyonesaw—
“Wemustbegoingnow.”
GwenwiltsinreliefwhenshespotsFatherstandingatthemouthofthedeadend.Helooksutterlyreservedandunruffledatfindinghisdaughterpressedupagainsttheleavesbyherlover,hisfirstlove’sdaughter.
“Right,”Gwenmanages,standinguptallandsmoothingoutherskirts.Bethblushesandwipesatherface,bendingquickly
tograbherbonnet.“MissDemeroven.”
Shedipsinaclumsycurtsy,can’tthinkofanythingelsetodoorsay—anytruewaytosaygoodbye.
Bethstaresbackather,anguished,beforestoopinginherowncurtsyasshewipesathereyes.
“LadyGwen.”
Theystandforamoment,juststaringateachother.Gwentriestomemorizehowthesunlighthitsherface,sparklingagainst
thetearsshe’smissed.HowBeth’sbreathstillhitchesaftertheirkisses—thepinkinhercheeksandtheflushonherneck.
She’llrememberherthisway,lightlydebauchedandtearfulafterablissful,horrid,beautifulgoodbye.
FathercoughsdiscreetlyagainandGwentearshergazefromBethtoturnonherheelandwalkascalmlyasshecantoher
father’swaitingarm.Shedoesn’thearBethmovebehindthemandGwenletsFatherleadherfromthehedgerow.Buthedoesn’t
takethembacktothepartyyet,windingtheminsteaddeeperintothefarsideofthemaze.
GwensnifflesgratefullyandFathertugshertoagentlestophalfwaydownanotherdeadend.Hetakesouthishandkerchief
andcupshercheektowipehertears.Gwenmeetshiseyes,findingnothingbutatwinsadnessandunderstandingstaringback
ather.
“Breakyourheart,don’tthey,theDemerovens?”
Gwennods,shattered.“I’msorry.”
“Oh,sweetheart,metoo,”hesays,pullingherinforahardhug.Sheburiesherfaceinhischest,takingsolaceinhisarms
forafewlongminutes.
Ifshecannothaveherhappiness,atleasttheyaregrief-strickentogether.
“ReadytowatchAlbiegetengaged?”
Gwengroansandshakesherhead,evenassheknowsshehastostay.Hastogatherherselfandpasteonthefirstofwhatwill
bemanyanemptysmile.Albiehasstoodbyherthroughthickandthin;shemustputawayherheartachetobehappyinthe
faceofhisjoy.
“Ifithelps,LadyDemerovenisgoingtocollectMissDemerovenandgohome.Ileftherafewrowsbackandtoldhertowait
forMissDemeroventocometoherwhileIfoundyou.”
Gwenpullsbacktolookupathim.“Doesiteverstop?”
“Theheartache?”
“Yes,”shewhispers.
Hesmilessosadlyshethinksshecouldfallbacktopieces.“No.Butwe’llfindyousomeonesomedaywhowilltakesomeof
thepain.Andatleastyouhadthismuch.”
Gwenforcesherselftonod,likethismuchisevenhalfwaytoenough.Atleastshehadthis,that’swhatshe’llhavetotell
herselffortherestofherlife.Atleastshehadonebriefmomentofloveandjoyandaffectionbeforealifewithout.
ChapterNineteenBeth
BethstaresatherreflectionasMissWilsonfinishespullingthelastofherlaces.Shestepsblindlyintoherhoopcage
andbarelyfeelsMissWilsonraisingitandsecuringitaboutherwaist.Careslittleforthepetticoatshelayersoverit,
northeembroideredbodiceandskirtsthatgooverthatintheirpalepinkloveliness.Noneofitmatters.Shelooksasbeautiful
assheprobablyeverhas,butit’sutterlyhollow.
Shethinksthere’snowayLordMontsonwon’tseeit.Thathe’llknow,bylookingintoheremptyeyes,thatthisisn’twhat
shewants.She’sdesperateforhimtoseeit—theachingsadnessthatshethinkspermeateseveryinchofherface—shewants
himtoseeit,toacknowledgeit,totakebackhispromises.
Butsheknowshewon’t.She’sgettingengagedinamatterofhours;sheshouldbeamessofanticipatorynerves.Whatwoman
wouldn’tbeabitnervous?Andwhatwomanwouldrefusesuchanoffer?
Shehastosmile,andpretendtoweep,andgush,andcelebratethisjoyousday
Insteaditfeelslikeherstomachmightflyoutofhermouthatanymoment,withherheartfollowingafter.
“Youlookwonderful,”MissWilsonsaysasshesettlesthelastofBeth’sskirtsandtuckseverythingintoplace.
“Thankyou,”Bethmanages,hervoiceawhisperaroundhertightenedthroat.
“Doyouwanttheearrings?”
BethfollowsMissWilson’spointedfinger,feelinglikeshe’smovingthroughwater.Mother’sleftherbridalearringsonthe
vanityinwhatBethassumesisapeaceoffering.
“No,”shesays,forcingasmileforMissWilson.“Iwouldn’twanttoovergildthelily.”
“Moreofarose,don’tyouthink?”MissWilsonasks,workingsohardtostaycheerful.Shegoeson,fillingthesilencewith
aprattleoffloralcomparisons.Bethhumsvaguelyinherdirection.
SheandMotherdidn’tspeakatallinthecarriagehomefromtheHarringtontea.Motherdidn’tmentionBeth’ssmudgedlips
orfrayedhair.Shedoesn’tknowifMotherevennoticed;she’dclearlybeencryingherself.Sheshouldcareabouthermother’s
happiness—besicklygratefulshe’sgivenupyetanotherchanceatloveforBeth’ssecurityandmarriage.
Sheshouldcare.Sheshouldbegrateful.Sheshouldbekindandweartheearrings.Butallshewantstodoisscream,atMother,
atLordMontson,atLordHavenfort,attheprimeministerandthequeen.
“It’sabeautifulday,don’tyouthink?Memorable.Notacloudinthesky,”MissWilsoncontinues,fluffingatherskirts
forsomethingtodowithherhands.
Bethclenchesherjawagainstaretortthatshe’dratheritwereraining,sinceshedoesn’twanttorememberthisdayanyway.
ButMissWilsondoesn’tdeservehernerves,soshejustshrugs.
Thisisthemessherfatherleftforthem:noprovisionsfortheirwell-being,nosavingsforanotherhome.Histwowomendestituteandatthemercyofhercallousuncle,followedbyacousinshe’snevermet.
Sheshouldscreamatherfather,that’swhatsheshoulddo.MakeMotherstopthecarriageonthewaytheretogoandhurlinsultsathisgrave.
“It’stime.”
MissWilson’schatterdiesaway.MotherstandsinthedoorwaytoBeth’sroom,severeindarkmauvewithblackaccents—the
perfectwidow.
“You’llbegreat,”MissWilsonsays,squeezingBeth’sshoulder.
BethwatchesasshehurriesoutaroundMother,takingthelastdregsofnormalcywithher.
MotherstaresatBethinherpalepinkdress,themodelofanexpectantbride-to-be,andutterlymiserable.Sheopensher
mouth,butdoesn’tseemtofindthewords.
Bethdoesn’tneedthem.Sheknowswhatshehastodo.Knowswhoshehastobe,today.
“Weshouldgo,”Bethsays,hervoicearaspagainsttheunnaturalquiet.
“Yes,”Motheragrees,steppingbacktoleadBethdownthehall.
There’ssomuchtheycouldsay,buttheirrideinthecarriageisquiet.Thewordsstickinherthroat,toomanyandtoomuch
tofitintothethirty-minutejourney.Instead,sheclenchesherhandsandbreathessteadily,countingthehousesasthey
pass.
***
Bythetimethey’rebeingledthroughtheAshmondmansion,herstoicismhaslefther.Herstomachisallknots,thatanxietyrisingheavyandfast.Herpulseishammeringandshecanfeelsweatdrippingdownherbackandintoherdrawers.She’sneverlongedforthebarrageofpetticoatsbefore.Whatifshesweatssomuchitpoolsbeneathher?
Theyreachthelargeglassdoorsthatleadfromthesolariumandoutontothepatiothatsitsatthebaseoftheexpansive
gardens.Theporterstepsthrough,andMothergoestofollow,butBethstandsrootedtothespot,clutchingatherarm.
Shecan’tdothis.Shecan’twalkoutthereand—
“You’llbefine,”Mothersayssoftly,leaningintoher.“Breathe,smile,andifyoucanworkuptoit,whichIbetyoucan,
giveagoodcry.”
Bethshudders.Sheshouldn’tneedcoachingonhowtoproperlyreacttoaproposal,butgiventhatherinstinctistoturn
tailandsprintaway,she’lltakeit.ShesqueezesMother’sarm,dragginginafewrapidbreaths.
“Goon.”
There’sabeatwhereitfeelstheworldstandsstill,alltheairsuckedoutofthesky.Amomentwheresheteeters,thelife
shewantswithGwenbehindher,thislifeshehatesahead.Abriefhesitation,asiftosaygoodbye.
Andthentheworldstartsturningagain.
Sheforcesherselftostepthroughthedoorway,towardhernew,emptylife.ChapterTwentyGwen
AsshestandssquishedbetweenAlbieandBobby,listeningtoMeredithprattleonabouttheirupcomingweddingreception,Gwen
considerschokingonherremainingprofiterole.
TheJohnsonballisinfull,boisterousswing.Whatseemslikeathousandcandlestwinkleoverhead,sparklingagainstthe
jewelsthatdappleeveryfloralarrangementandhanginggarland.Theroomisaswirlofpastelsandfans,dancerstwirling
onthefloor.Serverswithhorsd’oeuvresmeanderthroughthecrowdsmillingoneithersideoftheexpansivedancespace.
It’samassivespectacle,thoughnothingcomparedtotheupcomingYokelyball.AtleastattheYokelyestateshecandisappear
offintotheirgardens.Hereshe’strappedontheedgeofthefloor,unabletoescapethetalkofweddingsandengagements.
She’sbeendesperatelytryingtoslipaway,butAlbiekeepsholdofherelbow,andBobby’spressedtightonherotherside.
ShethinksFathermayhavesomethingtodowithitandbothresentsandappreciateshisforethought.
Ifshewereabletogetaway,she’dbestealingmultiplebottlesofwineandgettingdrunkintheservant’scorridor.Andwhileitwouldn’tbegoodforherimage,she’dmuchpreferit.Becauseofcourse,nowthatshe’ssufferedtwohours,thetrueexcitementoftheballhasjustentered,anditfeelslikeherstomachisapieceofleadfightingtosinktohertoes.
Beth,lookingasgloriousandbeautifulasGwenhaseverseenher,descendsthemassivestaircasedowntotheballroomon
thearmofherequallyglowingfiancé,LordMontson,andGwenjustwantstodie.
“Ineedthelavatory,”Gwenmutters,tryingtopullawayfromAlbie.
“Meredithcangowithyouwhenshe’sdonewithheraunt,”Albiesays,holdingfasttoherarm.
“Icanusethe—”
“TheverylastthingyouwanttodoisfleetheroomwhentheAshmondsenter.Yourfatherwouldneverforgiveyou.Aren’t
thetwoofyouplayingcoolwiththeDemerovens?”
GwenglaresupatAlbie.“It’snoneofyourbusiness.”
“Hetoldmetolookafteryou—thatincludeskeepingyoufrommakingaspectacleofyourself,”Albiesays,anglinghisbody
awayfromthecommotionofBethandMontson’sentrancetomeethereyes,faceserious.“Youshouldbehappyforher.”
“Right,”Gwensaystightly.“Theprideandjoyoftheseason.Ishouldsingherpraisesandsendthanksuptothegodsof
love?”
“Itmightnothurttoputsomegoodenergyoutintotheworld,”Albiesayswithalittleshrug.
“Justbecauseyou’recoupledupdoesn’tmeantherestoftheworldneedstobeallaboutrosesandceremonies,”Gwensays,
hearingthebiteinhervoice,butunabletoprotectAlbiefromhermisplacedanger.Ithastogosomewhere.“Twomonthsago
youwouldhavebeenteasingherwithme.Montson’sadrip.”
“He’sagoodlad,”Albiesaysseriously.“Jealousyisn’tabecomingcoloronyou,Gwennie.”
Shecurlsherfreehandoverhisonherarmandpincheshim.Albiegruntsandreleasesher.“I’mnotjealous.”
“Right.Clearly.Mymistake,”Albiesays,rubbingatthebackofhishand.“Mere,Gwencouldusethelavatory,wouldyougo
withher?Don’twantherfallinginwiththewrongcrowd.”
Meredithnods,givingGwenabrightsmile.Gwensighs,allowingMeredithtotakeherarmandleadherawayanddownthecorridor
offthedancehall.ShewonderswhatAlbiehastoldheroftheHavenforts’“fallingout”withtheDemerovens.Wonderswhether
MeredithhashadcausetospeakwithBethsinceshegotengaged.
Gwenhasn’tbeentoasocialeventsincetheyheard.Fatherlethersulkforoneday,andthentheyspentthefollowingafternoon
fencing,takingouttheirmutualangerinswordfightingandfootwork.ButMeredithandAlbiehavebeentofourteasinthe
pasttwodays.
“Sowhat’sgotyouinaknot?”Meredithasksastheycometothelavatorychamber.
ItsmellssickeninglyoflavenderandGwenswallowsagainstthenauseathat’sbeenroilinginherstomachallnight.Shewants
tosimplypushintothewatercloset,continueherruse.ButMeredith’sgivingherquitealook,andforallthatthey’ve
reallyonlyeverbeensocietyfriends,sheisabouttobefamily.
“Beth’smotherandmyfatherrather…felloutofsorts.AndtheAshmondsareviolentlyopposedtotheMCA.Wehaven’t
spokeninthepastfewdays,that’sall.”
Meredithfrowns.“That’sashame.She’ssuchalovelygirl.ThoughIwillsay,forthebelleoftheball,she’sbeendownright
doursincetheengagement.EvenLadyAshmond’snoticed.IheardherreprimandingLadyDemerovenaboutBeth’sdemeanor.”
Gwenleansbackagainstthewood-paneledwall,suckingonhercheek.Itseemsneitherofthemisaverygoodactress.“I’msureshe’sfine.It’sanadjustment,isall.Lotsofresponsibilitycomingherway,”shepushesout,tryinghardtosoundcasualanddisinterested.
“Theplanningisbrutal,”Meredithagrees,shruggingalittleassheleansbackintothewallaswell.“Icanonlyimagine
it’stentimesworseforamarriagetoanAshmond.”
“Probably,”Gwenagrees,takingadeepbreathtopushdowntheriseofbilethatcomeswiththethoughtofBethinawhite
dressbesideMontson.“Howareyouholdingup?”sheasks,forcingherselftomeetMeredith’seyes.
Shecouldusethedistraction,anddespitehowmuchAlbie’sonhernerves,shelikesMeredith,andsheshouldbemakingmore
ofaneffort.Shecan’tquitemanageexcitement,butshecanpretendatinterest,atleast.
“I’mexcited,”Meredithsays,smiling.“Andexhausted.ButIloveAlbiesoIknowitwillallbeworthit.Ifeelverylucky.”
Gwenconsidersher,pleasedbythehonestyinhervoice.It’scleartolookatMeredithandAlbiethattheydoactuallylove
eachother.Arare,fatefullyluckymatch,indeed.SheandBethcouldbejustlikeAlbieandMeredithiftheworldweredifferent.
“Albie’stheluckyone,”Gwensaysasbrightlyasshecanmanage.“You’redoinghimakindness.”
Meredithsnortsandreachesouttoslapherside.HerhandhitsGwen’shoopandherwholeskirtshudders.Theybothlaugh.
“He’sawonderfulman.”
“Yeah,heis,”Gwenagrees.“Abrat,butawonderfulman,andI’msurehe’llbeagoodhusband.He’salwayslookedoutforme,evenifIpretendit’stheotherwayaround.”Meredithbeamsather.“PleasenevertellhimIsaidthat.”
“Oh,I’llpickmymomentsomeday,”Meredithsays,wavingoffherfrown.“I’lluseitforgood,promise.Onedaywhenhe’s
veryangryatyou,I’lltellhimyouactuallylovehimverymuchandhe’syourmostfavoritecousin.Itwillbefuntowatch
hisheadexplode.”
GwengivesMeredithaslowonce-over.“Yousuiteachother.”
“Iknow,”Meredithsayswithalittlegrin.“Nowwejustneedtofindyouagoodman.”
Gwenpushesofffromthewall.Shewon’tberopedintoanymatchmakingthislateinthegame.She’sfailedanotherseason
intheeyesoftheton;noneedtoaddinsulttoinjury.Noonewilleverknowthatshe,too,foundalovematch.Soletthem
allthinkshe’safailure.
“I’drathersupportyouandAlbie,”Gwensays,adjustingherskirtandpickingatimaginarylint.
“Oh,butyoumusthavesomeonetodancewithforthereception,”Meredithsaysquickly.
Gwenstartsbackfortheballroom,stridingupthecorridor.Meredithscurriesbehindher,tryingtocatchup.
“I’msureBobbywoulddancewithme,”Gwensaysoverhershoulder.
“Bobby’sactually—”
Gwenstumbles,armspinwheelingasshecollideswithanotherbody.Shemanagestostaystanding,turningtogivetheinconsiderate
blighterwhatfor,onlytofindahorrifiedBethstaringbackatherandgrippingatherwaist.
“I’msosorry,”Bethsays.
She’sevenprettierupclose.Hercheeksareflushedandeyesalittlewild,whispsofhairfallingfromherintricatebraidedupdo.Heroff-whitegownonlyhighlightsherdarkhairandlashes.Gwenlurchesbackwardandoutofherhold,unsteady.
“MissDemeroven,lovelytoseeyou,”MeredithsaysasshestepsupnexttoGwen.
“Andyouaswell,”Bethrepliesquickly,curtsying.“LadyGwen.”
Gwenmanagestonod,butitfeelslikeherheadisdisconnectedfromherbody.Hertonguefeelstoobigforhermouth.And
itmakesherangry.
Sheshouldn’thavetofeellikethis,notwhenBeth’schosensomeoneelse.NotwhenBethandhermothertossedtheHavenforts
asideliketrashinthefaceofsomemoney.
Andprotection,andstability.
Gwenfinallyunglueshertongue.“I’msurprisedtoseeyouwithoutyourfiancé.”
Meredithwincesbesideher.Bethmeetshergaze.Gwenforcesherselftokeeptheireyecontact,eventhoughthesubtlehurt
inBeth’seyesmakesherwanttoshrinkback.
“Iwaslookingforthelavatory.Wewerestuckintrafficonthewayhere.”
“Ofcourse,it’sjustdownthere,”Meredithsayskindly,pointingdownthehallwhileshetakesGwen’sarm.“Congratulations,
bytheway.”
“Thankyou,”Bethsayssoftly,herhandstwistingtogether,thatgiantengagementringglintinginthegaslight.
“Yourmothermustbeoverjoyed.”
“Sheis,”Bethsays,smilingatMeredith,thoughGwencantellit’sforced.“Andcongratulationstoyou.Idon’tknowifI’vesaid.Mr.Mason’saluckyman.”
Meredithgrins.“Iknow.”
Theystandforamomentinstiltedsilence.MaybeMeredithexpectsGwentooffersomepleasantcongratulationsofherown,
butshecan’t.It’seitherkeephermouthshutorsaysomethingtrulyhorrible,andshe’salreadydoneenough.Anyonecould
walkby.Meredithdoesn’tdeservethescandal.
“Ishould…”Bethsays,noddingtowardthelavatory.
“Ofcourse,”Meredithsays,pullingGwenratherroughlyasidesoBethcanshufflepast,alloftheirskirtsbumpingawkwardly
inthenarrowhall.“Haveagoodevening.”
“Youtoo,”Bethsays,smilingatherbeforecuttinghereyestoGwen’s.
“Don’ttrip”iswhatfallsoutofhermouth,andshewincesasBeth’seyesdim.
“Thanks,”shemumblesbeforehurryingoff.
“Honestly,it’slikeyouwereraisedinabarn,”Meredithmutters,yankingonGwen’sarmtosteerherbacktotheballroom.
Gwenletsherselfbedraggedalong,feelingutterlyawful.It’snotBeth’sfault.It’snotGwen’sfault.It’shorriblecircumstance
andsocietyandtheirstupidparents—butsheneedssomeonetobeangrywithorshehasnowhereforallthehatredinherheart
togo.Ifshedoesn’tdosomethingsoon,it’sgoingtoeatthrougheverythingandshe’llbeweepingatthesideoftheballroom.
“Drink.”SheblinksandfindsMeredithpressingaglassofchampagneintoherhand.“Andforgoodness’sake,tryandlook
lesslikeyourpuppyhasbeenstrangled.”
Gwenswallowsaroundasnort,coughingasthechampagnehitsthebackofherthroatandfizzesuptohernose.“Excuseme?”
“Whatever’sgoingonbetweenyouandMissDemeroven,youneedtobuckup.You’reattractingattention,”Meredithsaysfirmly,
allthatbubblygentlenessgonefromhervoice.“Bobby’sgoingtoaskyoutodanceinafewminutes,andthenwe’llgetyou
anotherdrink,andyouwon’thavetodoanythingbutlookvacant,allright?”
AlbieappearsatMeredith’ssideandGwendeflates.“Yes,allright.”
“Andthenyou’regoingtoeatsomething,andthenyoucanhaveanotherdrink,”Albiesaysquietly,leaningintomeether
eyes.“It’llbefine,Gwennie.Tryandenjoyyourself.”
“Youenjoyyourself,”shemumbles,rollinghereyesashelaughsandBobbyappearsatherelbow.
“Bottomsup,”hesays,swiggingbackhisownglassofchampagne.
He’sbecomingahandsomekid.There’stheshadowofafullbeardonhisfaceandhe’scomingintohischeekbones.He’sstill
abitganglyandawkward,buthe’sfarmoreconfidenttonightthanhewasatthestartoftheseason.Seenafewthings,flirted
withafewwomen;he’sgrowingup.
“You’renotterribleatthis,”shedecidesthirtyminuteslaterastheyswaythroughtheirfourthdance.
“You’rehorrid,”Bobbysayswithoutremorse.“ButAlbiesaysyou’resad,soI’llletitslide.”
GwenglancesbackatAlbieandMeredith,twirlingslowlyafewcouplesaway.Hewouldn’thavetoldBobbywhyshe’ssad—nottherealreason.She’snotentirelysureAlbiereallyunderstands,thoughshethinkshemight.HetoldheroncetheboysatEtonsometimessnuckofftothebushesanddidn’tseemasrepulsedasmostpeoplewould.
Whatanyonedoesintheprivacyofabedroom,orshrubbery,shouldbetheirbusinessshethinks.Evenso,she’snotsureshe
wantsthisgawkyyoungmantoknowshe’sbeenrollinginthesheetswithMissDemeroven,thebelleoftheballbeingspun
aroundnowbyLordAshmond.Shekeepswincing,likehe’ssteppingonhertoes.
Gwenyearnstogosaveher—pullherawaylikeshedidmonthsagoatthefirstball—playthedashingstranger.ButBethisn’t
herstosaveanymore,andhertoeswilljusthavetogetusedtobeingsteppedupon.She’sinforalifeofit.
“Icoulduseanotherdrink,couldn’tyou?”Gwenasks.
BobbyglancesoveratAlbie,who’sthoroughlywrappedupinMeredith,gazingsoppilyintohereyes.Disgusting,thetwoof
them.Bobbylooksbackatherandgivesherasneakygrin.
“I’mthinkingsomethingharderthanchampagne.”
“You’reon,littleMason.”
Bobbytakesherhandtoleadheroffthefloorandovertothedrinksstation.AndthoughMeredithandAlbieseemintenton
keepingherdemureandacceptabletotheton,Bobbyhasnosuchhesitations.Hegrabsabottleofscotchandtwoglassesand
leadsherovertooneofthesmalltablesbythelargenarrowwindowsthatlookoutonthelawn.
Andtheretheystay,knockingbackswigsandgiggling,exchangingcourtinghorrorstories.ItseemsBobbyisasmiserable
assheis,andshewonderswhyshe’sneverbotheredtogivehimthetimeofdaybefore.ShelovesAlbie,buthe’snolonger
herpartnerinmisery.He’sasuccess,now.Worse,he’sMeredith’s.Won’thavetimeforherformuchlongeratall.
Bobbywillhavetomakeafittingsubstitute.
“I’dratherrecitethewholeBibleinLatinthanattendanothertea,”hesays,hiccoughingabit.
Gwensnorts.“I’dratherprickmyselfwithahundredembroideryneedlesthansitthroughanotherpicnic.”
“I’dratherrunoverhotcoalsthanpromenade,”hecounters.
Shegrins.“I’dratherweareightpetticoatsthanwatchanothercricketmatch.”
“Really?Ienjoythesportingeventsatleast.WillyoubeatAscot?”
“Ofcourse,”Gwensays,raisingahandtowipehersweatingbrow.“You’llattendwithAlbie,won’tyou?Father’sgotusall
ticketsforthemainstands.”
“Excellent,”Bobbysays,hischeeksdangerouslyred.“Albiesaysyou’reabettingwoman.”
“Youwanttowager,Mason?Becausewecanwager.I’veadowrynoone’susing.”
Bobbylaughsalittletooloudly,attractingstaresfromthebackhalfoftheroom.Gwenshrugsandtakesanotherswallow,
enjoyingtheburnofthealcoholagainstthebackofherthroatandthewarmthspreadingupherchest.Whocareswhatthe
mothersthink.She’srelaxedforthefirsttimeallevening.
“Thereyouare!”Fatherexclaimsloudly,steppinguptotheirtable,hisowncheeksratherred,smilebroadandfriendly,
glassempty.“Bobby,howareyou?”
Bobbyblinksupathim.EventhoughBobby’slanky,he’sgotnothingonFather’sheight,andespeciallywheninebriatedand
lilting,Fathermakesquiteanimpression.
“I’mwell,sir,”hesaysasFatherreachesforthebottleandpourshimselfasample.“Andyourself?”
“That’sgood,”Fathersaysafterheswigsbacktheswallow.“AndI’mwell.Glorious,infact.Ijusthadalargereturnonarecentinvestment.Gwennie,howwouldyouliketoownoneoftheAscothorses?”
Gwenstaresupathim.“Really?”
“Whynot?”hesays,grinningdownather.“We’vemoneyandopportunityandthewholeofthetontoimpress.We’llmakeour
pickstomorrowandthencheerthejockeyonnextweek,whatdoyousay?”
“Isaythatdeservesatoast,”Bobbysays,gamelyrefillingalloftheirglasses.
“Thefastestone?”sheasksFather.
“Thefastestone,”heassuresher,hishandfallingtohershoulderasheswaysinplace.“Toyourgoodhealthandahappy
marriage,Bobby,”headds.
Bobbylaughsandtheysloppilyclinkglasses.“Andtoyourgoodfortune,”Bobbysays,pouringanotherround.
“Toyourgrowthspurtlastsummer,”Gwendeclares,reachingouttograbthebottleonlytosendittopplingtotheground
inaspectacularcrash.Shejumpsatthesoundandmanagestoknockintothevaseatherback,sendingthatsprawlingaswell.
“Damn,”Fatherexclaims,loudenoughtoattractthehalfoftheroomthatdidn’tturnatthesoundofshatteringglass.
“Andthat’senoughforthethreeofyou,”Albiesays,steppinguptoblockthemfromview.Hepluckstheglassesfromtheir
handsandslamsthemnone-too-gentlyontothetable.“Ithinkit’stimethetwoofyouheadedhome,andBobby,youcansee
yourselfout.”
“It’searlyyet,”Fatherargues,hisvoicebouncingaroundthem.
Albiestepsinclose,completelyblockingGwenfromview.She’sneverseenhisfacelikethat—darkandbroodingandjustabitintimidating.It’snotawordshe’severassociatedwithhim.
“Youaremakingaspectacleofyourselfandyourdaughter,”Albiesays,hisvoicelowandhard.
“Nonsense,I—”
“Iwouldhateforyoutoendsuchatriumphantnightasthetongossip.Gwenhasenoughagainstherthisseasonwithoutyour
behaviorplayingin.Now,I’llescortyouandyourdaughterout.”
FatherlockseyeswithAlbie,pullinguptohisfullheight.“Iamyouruncle,youngman—”
“Andyou’vetaughtmebetterthanthis,”Albiecutshimoff.“Nowcomeon,bothofyou,”hesays,reachingouttotugGwen
up.
Shestumbles,thewholeroomtiltingbeneathherfeet.She’sdrunkerthanshethought.Everything’shazyandspinny.
“Grabontoyourfather.Bobby,yougetherotherside,discreetly,”Albiehisses.
Asanawkwardgroup,theyskirtthesideoftheballroom,movingslowly.Headsturnastheypass,mothersgawp,fathersshake
theirheads.Shecanseetheothergirlstittering,butshehardlycares.Anddrunkassheis,itisn’tuntilthey’renearly
atthegrandentrancethatshethinkstotryandlookforBeth.
Butturningherheadmakesthesloshing,swayingroomworseandit’sallshecandotokeepmoving,FatherandBobbyholding
herupasAlbieescortsthemupthestairs.Whentheyreachthetopandstepintothefoyer,Gwengroans,feelingherstomach
swirling.
“Doyourealizewhataspectacleyoujustmadeofus?”FatherdemandsasAlbieushersthemoutsideandraiseshishandtohailoneofthewaitingcoaches.
AlbieturnstomeetFather’seyesheadon.“Nomoreofascandalthanyouloudlyboastingaboutyourbetsandyourbribes.
HalftheroomisagainsttheMCA—youknowthat.Andyougettingdrunkandsloppy,rubbingitintheirfaces,won’tmakeyou
anymorebeloved.Yourmethodsarejustshortofshady.”
GwenlistsintoBobby.Hermouthisdryandstale,herstomachsour,andherlegsfeelunsteady.She’sneverseenFatherlook
quitesoindignantordrunkbefore,nowthatshethinksofit.Hishairisamessandhiscravatisaskew.Whatgoesonin
theparlorsduringthesedances?
“Youhavenoright,”herfathersaysaroundahiccough.
Albie’slookhardensfurtherjustasthecarriagepullsuptotheirside.“I’dhatetoseeyoubecomemyfather,sir.It’s
hardenoughwithoneinthefamily,don’tyouthink?ForGwen’ssake?”
Fatherglowersbutdoesn’targue.Instead,she’sroughlypassedupandintothecarriage,Fathervaultingunsteadilyinafter
her.Albieshutsthedoorwithasharpbang.Theybothwince.Albietapsthesideofthecarriage,settingthemoffatalurching
rumblethat’sdestinedtostealwhatlittlesheatefordinner.
Didsheeat?Sheshouldhave.
ShecouldhaveeatenBeth.Shelookedlikeaflouncydessert.
“Albie’sgrownapair,hasn’the?”Fatherasks,sittingatanangleinhisseatasGwenclutchesatherhead.“Howmuchdid
youdrink?”
“Toomuch,”Gwenmoans,hershoulderscurlingasbilerisesupherthroat.
SheslamsherhandagainstthetopofthecarriageandtheyhavejustenoughtimetostopandforFathertothrowopenthedoorbeforeshe’sonthecarriagefloor,vomitingontothestreet.Shehopesthey’refarenoughawayfromtheJohnsonestateforonlythecoachhandstoseeher.
“Gwennie,”Fathersighs,sinkingtoonekneetorubherbackassheheaves.
Sadness,andwhisky,andself-loathingspatterontothecobblestonesbeneaththecarriage.Sometriumphantevening.ChapterTwenty-OneBeth
Bethshiftsuncomfortably,wigglinginherdampcorsettotryandcoaxabeadofsweatawayfromtheitchingonherback.
Theairisstaidandhumid,andthesmellofhorsemanuredoesn’thelp.Theycanheapalltheflowerstheylikealongthe
railingsoftheroyalenclosurebehindthem;itdoesn’tdoadamnthing.
“Stoptwitching,”Mothermutters.
Bethlooksoveratherandthenjerksbackastheirlaceybroad-brimmedbonnetsknocktogether.ThethirddayoftheAscot
racesisnolaughingmatter.Bethfeelslikeshe’sweighteddownbypetticoatsagainwithhowmanylayersoflaceandsilk
they’vepiledontoherhoop.Nevermindtheitchingatheranklesfromwhatshethinksmightbeants.Nohopeofchecking,
thewaythey’reallpackedin,hoopsbumpingawkwardlyastheycontinuetowaitfortheopeningshot.Therewasalotoflaughter
andshriekingatthestart.Nowthey’realltootiredandtryingdesperatelytokeepuptherusethatanyonewantstobeunder
thehotsunwaitingtowatchahorseracethey’llonlybeabletoseeformomentseachlap.
LordMontson’sconsumedwithtalkofbettingbesideher.Shetriedtojoinin,atthestart,butonelookfromhermotherandanotherfromLordAshmondquelledanyinterestininsertingherselfintoLordMontson’sconversations.She’sheretolooklikeatrussed-up,meltingdessert,nothingmore.Sheglancestoherrightandleft,butshe’strappedwheresheis,nofriendlyfaces.
She’slongsincefinishedthedrinkLordMontsonbravedthecrowdstogetforher.Shecan’tbringherselftoaskhimtogo
again,notwhenhetrippedandalmostruinedhisnewpressedwhitetrousers.Henearlylosthistophattoo.
“Doyouthinktheyplantostarttheraces,oristheresomesortofhatcompetitionofwhichIwasn’tmadeaware,”Bethwonders,
glancingatMother.
Mothergoestoscoldher,butthewomanonherothersidestepscloser,bumpingMother’shoopintoBeth’s.Bethwatchesin
dismayassomeofMother’slastsipofchampagnesloshesfromherglassandontothepackeddirtground.
“Idearlyhopeso,”Mothersays,wipingherdrippinggloveontoherlavenderskirts.Noonewillnotice,justastheyall
politelyignorethesweatstainsmarringeveryone’sclothing.“Thisisdismal.”
“Itreallyis,”Bethagrees.
Sheglancesacrossthetrackandstarts,bumpinghermotheragain.Motherdoesn’tevenhuff,justgrabsherarmtosteady
thembothandthenknocksbackthelastofherchampagne.
“I’mgoingtogetussomethingtodrink,damntheskirts,”Mothersays.
Beth’stoodistractedlookingoverattheinnertracklawntocare,evenasMother’sefforttoturnaroundjostlesher,creating
adominoeffectaroundthemashoopsbumpandclash.
Bethstaresacrossthetrackatthecrowdofonlookersmakingraucousmerryontheotherside.They’vespace,andampledrinkandfoodfromtheirpersonalpicnics.Andinthecenterofthecrowd,rightagainsttherailing,sheseesGwen,Meredith,LordHavenfort,andGwen’scousinshavingawonderfullygoodtime.
Gwenlooksenchantinginherbonnet,whichonlyhasademurelacelip,nothingliketheheavymonstrosityonBeth’shead.
Goldringletscascadeoutofit,andBethcanseehergreendresshasamuchmorepracticalhoopbelowit,allowingGwenmovement,
andair,andthefreedomtoenjoyaglassofchampagneandthesandwichMeredithhandsher.
BethwatchesasGwencarriesontwoconversations,chattingwithMeredithwhileclearlyplacingbetswithherfatherandcousins,
turningatintervalstobarknumbersatthemwithoutmissingastepwithMeredith.Nooneseemstocarethattheyalllook
abitundone.Nooneseemstocarethatthey’rebeingloudandrowdy.Thereacrossthetrack,Ascotisfun,social,andexciting.
Andinsteadofbeingtherewiththem,astheyplanned,picnickingandgettingtheirparentstofallinlove,Bethisstuck
hereintheroyallawnenclosure,listeningtoLordMontsonblatheronandonaboutthehorsesandtheodds.
Thatfeelingofhopelessnessthat’sbeensittingonherchestforaweekconstrictsfurtherandBethsighs,tryingtobreathe
throughit.SoAscotwon’tbefun;theywon’thavetoattendeveryyear.AndattheleasttheinnLordAshmondhasputthem
allupinislovely.Themeatpiesinthepubaregood,andsheandMotherhavebeentakingadvantage,eatingtotheirheart’s
content.Herstomach’sfull,whichissomething.Andoncethey’renolongertrappedlikelivestockforthisrace,shemight
evengettowanderthegroundsabit,seethegardensthey’recultivatingontheothersideofthegrandstand.
Itwon’tallbeatotalloss.
“Begrateful,Inearlytookdownacountess,Ithink,”Mothersays,bumpingBeth’shoopassheshufflesbacktohersideand
extendsafluteofchampagne.
“Atleastthatwouldhavebeensomeexcitement,”Bethmutters,smilingalittleasMothersnickersquietly.
“It’sdistasteful,”saysavoicetoBeth’sright.
Bethturns,glancingatthecouplestandingjustbeyondLordMontsonandhisschoolmates,whohavetakenupapostbehind
BethandMother.
“It’ssupposedtobeanevent.Really,it’snotthatuntoward.”
“He’sgotthatgirlasdrunkasheis.Andasloud.Icanhearherfromhere.”
Bethglancesacrossthetrackasacacklesplitstherowdyatmosphere.She’dknowthatlaughanywhere.It’sGwen,gloating
atMr.MasonforsomethingwhileLordHavenforteggsheron.Incorrigible,thetwoofthem.
“I’msurethere’sayoungladherewhowouldfindhercharming.Amancoulddowithawifewhoenjoysagoodsport.”
Bethglancesatthecoupleandfindsthewomanglaringdownintoherwine.Herhusbandtipsbackhisbeer.ShehearsGwen
laughagainandlooksovertofindherwavingsomethingunderMr.Mason’snoseasMeredithtriestosnatchitback.
Theyaremakingratheraspectacleofthemselves,thoughshesupposesthemanbesideherisn’twrong.Todayisn’tadayforstaidconversationandappearance,unlessyou’reonhersideofthetrack,heretoseeandbeseen.Theinnerlawnisforfunandcheeringandbettingwithabandon.Andthoughthetonmightlookdowntheirnosesatanyonewhodidn’tmanageaninvitationtotheroyallawnenclosure,Beththinksthoseontheothersidemadethebetterchoice.
“Ofcoursetheactshouldn’tgotothefloor,”Mothersays,draggingBeth’sgazefromGwen’sbrightface.
SheturnsandfindsLordAshmondstandingonMother’sotherside,hiswifecrammedbetweenthem,herskirtandMother’sknocking
enoughtosetBethtilting.Shegrabstherailinginfrontofherandtakesatoo-largesipofherchampagne.Butofcourse
noone’spayingheranyattention.
“Theveryideathatit’sgottenthisfarisabhorrent,”LadyAshmondsays.
“We’llfindawaytoreverseitifHavenfortandhisilkmanagetopassitthrough,”LordAshmondsays,hisboomofavoice
gratingevenamongstalltheothers.
“IthoughtLordHavenfortallbuthaditlockeddown,”Mothersays,andBethcantellbytheholdofherjawthatshe’strying
nottolethertruecolorsshow.
ThismustbeabouttheMatrimonialCausesAct,again.It’sallanyonetalksofthesedays.EvenLordMontson’sfriendswere
lamentingitsimminentpassage,liketheactisn’ttheretoprotectwomenfrommonstersandmaritalbrutes.Howmustthey
treattheirfiancéesbehindcloseddoorsifthey’resoworriedthey’llbeabletoconvinceacourtofabuse?
“There’sstillafewweeksuntilthevote,morethanenoughtimetofindtherightpalmsandmaketherightexchanges,”Lord
Ashmondsaysfirmly,asifallLordHavenfort’smachinationsandworkmightbewavedawaywithenoughmoney.
Bethhopesnot.IfMothercouldhavepetitionedacivilcourt—leftherfather—
“That’ssomethingthen,”Mothersaystightly.
“I’llbebringingHarryintothefinalroundsaswell,trainhimup.We’vegottokeepthepartygoing,andourchildrenare
thefuture,aren’tthey?”
“Ofcourse,”Mothersays.
“YourElizabethwouldnever—”LadyAshmondbegins.
“MyBethwillbeanexcellentwifeandyoursonanexcellenthusband,sothematterneedneverbediscussed,”Mothersays
firmly.
LadyAshmondnodsandLordAshmondturnstoagentlemanonhislefttocontinuetheconversation,leavingBethandMother
alone,pushedupagainsttherailing.
“Aretheyallafraidtheirwiveswilldivorcethemgiventhechance?Doesn’tsaymuchfortheirmarriages,”Bethmuttersas
Mothersidlesascloseasshecan.
“Changemakesmostpeoplenervous,”Mothersays,takingherownoverlargegulpofchampagne.“Andthisisn’tpolitetalk.”
“Butitiswhentheearldoesit?”
“Hush,”Mothersays,shakingherheadandlookingacrossthetrack.
They’restartingtolineupthehorses.Atleasttherewillbesomeexcitementsoon.Thereoughttobe,aftertwohoursin
thisinfernalheatandpressofbodies.
“Doesitbotheryou?”Bethasks,trackingMother’sgazeacrosstoLordHavenfort,wholooksnotatallconcernedthathis
plansmaycomecrashingdown.
“Doeswhatbotherme?”Motherasks,soundinglofty.Itfallsabitflat,withtheclearexhaustionattheedgeofhervoice.
“Pretending.”
“Notnow,”Mothermutters.
“Doesit?”Bethpresses.“Youcan’treallysupportthatinfernalposition.”
“YouknowIdon’t,”Motherhisses,leaningcloseundertheguiseoffixingalockofBeth’ssweatyhair.“Butthisisneither
thetimenortheplace.We’reheretodrink,smile,andbeseen.Youcanseetheandraillater.”
Bethpursesherlips.She’stiredofbeingcossetedandpatronized,likeherdiscomfortisanaberrationwhensheknowsMother
isequallyuncomfortable,inthisbox,inthislife,withthesepeople.
“Youcouldtrymakingotherfriends.Broodingisonlygoingtogiveyouwrinkles.”
“Idon’tneedotherfriends,”Bethreturns,scowlingasMotherrollshereyes.
Gwenisn’therfriend.She’ssomuchmorethanthat,andtohearMotherdismissherpainlikeit’ssomethingasmundaneas
aseasonalliance—
“Howdidyoudothis?”Bethasks,frustrationpouringoutofher.
“Dowhat?”Motherasks.
“Livelikeitwasn’tcrushingyoutodeath.”
“Itisratherpressedinhere,isn’tit?”
Bethjumps,turningtofaceLordMontsonashegrinsdownather.“Oh,well,I—”
“Here,”hesaysgamely,steppingascoochinfrontofher,sohislegpresseslightlyintothebellofherskirt.Itpushes
herskirtback,shiftingthefrontclosetoherlegsandforcingthebackoutbehindher,creatingjustamodicumofspace.
LordMontsonwinks.Mothersmilesathim,butBethcatchesthewarninginhereyes.They’llcontinuetheirargumentlater,whenthedoorsareclosed.
Inthemeantime,she’llsmileandcurtsyandencouragethemisunderstanding.Itdoesfeellesscongestednow,whichis…
something.
“Thankyou,”shesayshonestly.
“See,partnershipcomesinmanyforms,”Mothersays,smilingatLordMontsoneventhoughBethhearsthebiteinherwords.
“Howhaveyourbetsbeentaken,dear?”
“Oh,well,well,”hesayseasily.“We’rerootingforSkirmisher,”hetellsBeth,asifshecouldn’tpossiblyhaveanopinion.
Shedoesn’t,butitstillraisesherhackles.MothernarrowshereyesasLordMontsonleansaroundthemtolookatthestarting
line,andBethnods.Shewon’ttakethatoneoutonLordMontson;itwouldbebeyondpetty.Still.
Bitinghertongue,Bethturnsbacktothetrack.Thehorsesandjockeysarefinallylinedup.Shewatchesasthestarting
gunisloaded,andwithagreatbang,they’reoff.Cacophonousscreamsandcheersfilltheair,andBeth’stoopreoccupied
withtryingtokeepherselffrombeingcrushedagainsttherailingtocaremuchaboutwhichhorseiswinning.It’sabsurd,
especiallygiventhateventhoughthey’rethebestracehorsesinthecountry,itstilltakesclosetoaminuteforthemto
reappeararoundthetrackforanymeaningfulview.
Shewouldtryandsquintacrosstheinnerlawntotheoppositesideofthetrack,buteverytimeshedoesshegetsdistracted,watchingthewayGwenisclutchingatMeredith.Absurdpossessivejealousyrisesinherchest,evenknowingfullwellthatMeredithishappilypromisedtoMr.Mason.Butshe’sfeltthosehandsonher,insideher,andthethoughtofGwen’sfingersonanotherwoman’sarm…
It’slikeshe’sdoingittospiteBeth.Pretendingalldayshehasn’tnoticedthey’rerightacrossfromeachother,waving
herfree,merrylifeinBeth’sface.LikeBethwantedthisanddeservestobetorturedforthechoicesshe’shadtomake.LikeseeingGwensohappyandcarefreeisn’tripping
Bethapartinsideminutebyminute.
Likeit’sBeth’sfaultandGwenalonehastherighttobeangry.
Andmaybeshedoes.Thisisn’tGwen’sfault;therageinBeth’sheart,thefireinherlungs,thedesperatetwistinhergut
havenowheretogo.IfshecouldtalkherselfintohatingGwen,shewould.Butshecan’t.
Andmuchasit’stearingintoherheart,itgivesherasicksatisfactionthatatleastifGwenispunishingherthisway,
itmeansshe’sstillthinkingaboutBeth.
LordMontsonwhoopsandBethrealizesshe’sspentthewholeracestaringatGwen.Skirmisher’sthewinner.Theywon.
Howutterlymeaningless.
HandswraparoundherwaistandshesquealsinsurpriseasLordMontsonliftsherup.Hetakeshershockforjoyandthen
allofasudden,he’skissingher,rightthereintheroyallawnenclosure.
It’srough,andhard,andhereleasesherjustasquickly,leavingherbreathlesswithshockandthecoarsepressofhisshadowed
beardagainsthercheeks.Hislipsarechapped.Heputsherdownandturnswithoutawordtocavortwithhisfriends.She’s
beenkissedinbroaddaylight,andnoonehereseemstocare.
Allthetalkofappearances,ofdecorum,anditdoesn’tmatter.She’snomorethansomethingtokisswhenthingsgowell.Notgoodenoughevenforconversation.
“Well,he’llhavethefundsforanextravaganthoneymoon,”Mothersays,andBethslowlyturnstofindherbracingherself
ontherailing,herknuckleswhite.
“Perhapsweshouldhaveplacedourownbet,doubledmydowry,”Bethsaysdryly.
Motherlaughs,glancingatBethforabriefmomentlikethey’rehomealoneintheparlor.“Nextyear.”
“Andthenwhat?”Bethwonders.
“YouandIcanhaveagrandadventurewhileyourhusbandishereforthewinter,maybe,”Mothersayswithashrug.“Goto
theContinent.”
Bethstaresathermother,theslightslumpofhershoulders,thelinesbyhereyes.Exhausted,justlikesheis.
“Wecouldgonow,”Bethsayssoftly.“Runaway.”
Motherstandsuptallagain,thatbriefopenexpressiongonefromherfaceandeyesandsmile.“Ishouldmakesomerounds,”
shesays,barelyevenlookingatBethbeforeshebeginsthearduousprocessoffightingherwaythroughtheclusterofbodies
andhoops.
Bethstandsthere,bereft.Somuchhasbeenlost,noneofittangible.Sheglancesacrossthetrackandfindsherselfatlast
underGwen’sgaze.TheystareateachotherforalongmomentbeforeGwentakesaslugofsomethingandturnsaway,backto
herfatherandfriendsandfamily,whileBethstandsalone,surroundedbypeople.
ChapterTwenty-TwoGwen
“Ididnot!”Gweninsists.Fatherfumbleswithhiskeytounlocktheirfrontdoor,scrapingitagainstthepaneltwicebefore
managingtoinsertitintothekeyhole.
“Youmostcertainlydid,”Fathersays,crowingwhenhegetsthelockopenandpushesintothefoyer,draggingGwenwithhim.
“Youcountyourcards.Wheredidyoulearntodothat?”
“You!”Gwensaysbeforeslappingherfreehandoverhermouth.
“Iknewit!”heshouts.“You’reacheat.”
“Nomorethanyou.Youhadcardsupyoursleeve,”sheshootsback,lettingthedoorslamshutbehindthem.
“Howwouldyouknow?”heasks.
“BecauseIspenthourslearningtodoitbeforeyoutoldmewomenneverwearcoattailsandthey’vedoneawaywiththelong
sleeves.It’satravesty.”
Everything’sabitfuzzy,evenFatherassheturnstoregardhim,rumpledbutgrinninginthemiddleofthefoyer.Theroom
isbrighterthanshewouldhaveexpected.It’sverylate,shethinks,orpossiblyveryearly.Mr.Masonhadport,anditwas
goodport.Shecleanedup,evenifshedidcounthercardsafewtimes.
“Alackofsleeveswouldn’tstopatruecheater,”Fathersays,laughingwhenshetriestoscowlathim.
Herfacefeelsabitnumb,nowthatshethinksofit.
“You’refinallyback.”
Theybothswingaround,unsteady,andfindMrs.Gilpestandinginthearchwaytothediningroom,glaringatthemwithbloodshot
eyes.
“It’sonly,what?”Fathersays,twirlingaroundtosquintattheclockabovethemantel.
“It’snearlygonefive,”Mrs.Gilpesays,marchingintothefoyer,herslippersmakingadefinitesmackagainstthemarble
floor.“Wethoughtyou’dcrashedorfallendownintotheThames.”
“We’renowhereneartheThames,”Gwensaysbeforeanenormousbelchsurprisesher.Itringsaroundtheroom.Fathersnickers.
“You’vegoneandgottenherpissedagain,”Mrs.Gilpededuces,glaringatFather.“Didanyoneseeyou?”
“WewerejustatAlbie’s,”Gwensays,tryingtolookdemureandcontriteevenassheswaysonherfeet.She’dquiteliketo
gotosleepnow.
“Noonesawus,”Fathersays,rollinghiseyes.“Goonbacktosleep,Mrs.Gilpe.I’llgetGwennieupstairs.”
“Ihaven’tbeentosleep,”Mrs.Gilpesaysloudly.GwenandFatherwince;theloudnesshurtsherbrain.“Noonehasbeento
sleep.We’vebeenworriedsick.”
“Whateverfor?”Fatherexclaims.“Youcannotdecidewe’vediedeverytimewe’renothomebeforeone.”
“Homeattwowouldhavebeenfine.Butthree,four,five?Whatrespectableladyisoutuntilfiveinthemorning?”
“IwasjustatAlbie’s,”Gwenrepeats,confusedbyherhousekeeper’sire.
Father’sfacedarkens.“Withherfather?Aproperchaperone?”
“You’reinnostatetobeconsideredaproperchaperone,”Mrs.Gilpesaystightly.“Gwen,gotobed,”shesnaps,turningher
hardlookonGwen.
“ButI—”
“Now.Mrs.Stelmhasleftwaterbyyourbedside.Drinkafullglass,thengotosleep.”
“Itreallyisn’thisfault,Iwantedtoplay—”
“Bed,”Mrs.Gilpeinsists,pointingtowardthestairs.
GwenlookstoFather,buthejustsighsandnods,wavingheraway,likeshe’sachild.It’sherreputationthey’refightingover.
Butshecan’tquitemakehermouthformthewordsinherhead,andhersoftbeddoessoundinviting,andshe’sactuallyquite
parched.Soshegoes,leavingMrs.GilpeandFatherbickeringbehindherassheslowlyclimbsthestairswithherleadenfeet.
“It’sunconscionablethatyouwouldbethisrecklesswithheralreadydifficultposition.We’vehadnomorningcallsallseason.”
“Whatdidyouexpect?”shehearsFatherask.“She’snotashowpony.Noneofthemaregoodenoughforher.”
“Wellthey’reallyou’vegot.Thepoorthing’sheartbrokenenoughwithoutendingupthoroughlyalone.”
“I’mhere!”Fatherreturns.
Gwenroundsthebendandcontinuesupthestairstothesecondfloor.It’snotlikeshe’spathetic.She’sfun.She’sahoot.Thelifeofeveryparty.AndsowhatifBeth’sabouttobemarriedoff?She’snotgoingtogetmarriedjusttosootheherego—orwhatevershe’sbeentellingherselfisn’tanutterlybrokenheart.
“AndwasSamantha’sfatherenoughtokeepheroutoftrouble?”
Gwenpauses,heartinherthroat.
“It’snotthesame,”Fathersaysgruffly.
“No?Yourheartwasbroken,”Mrs.Gilpecounters.
Gwenslowlyslidesherselfdowntositonthestairs,headpounding.
“It’snotthesame,”Fatherrepeats.“Gwenisn’tme.”
“No,she’sbothofyou.Samanthamadechoicesaswell.I’mtellingyoutobecareful.”
“Gwen’snotgoingtogetintrouble,”Fatherinsists.
Gwencovershermouth,herotherhandclenchedintoherskirts.She’salwayssuspected,butneverknew.Noonetalksmuch
ofhermother,onlythatshewasn’twhatanyofthemwouldhaveexpectedforDashiellBertram.Nowsheknowswhy.
ButFather’sright.It’snotthesame.Shecan’tgetintrouble,becausetheonlypersonshe’lleversleepwithisBeth,and
that’snolongeranoption.Thethoughtsendsastabofpainthroughherheartandshestartstocry.
Beth’saretheonlyarmssheeverwantsaroundher.She’snotabouttodrownhersorrowsinaman,inafumble,insomething
painfulandstupidanddangerous.Theverylastthingshewantsistobesaddledwithachildinadditiontoahusband.
Herstomachroilsashertearsturntosobs.Sheheavesinair,herheartacherisinginherchestlikearapidtide,withanenormouswavenowwaitingtocomeinbehindit.Isthatwhathappenedtoherfather?Hewassaddledwithawife,andachild,alldreamsofloveandhappinessgone,becauseofonemomentofrecklessness?
“You’redrinkinglikeafishandlettingherdoitwithyou.Youturnyourbackinthewrongplaceandwhoknowswhatcould
happen,”Mrs.Gilpesays.
“Gwenisn’tinterested—shewouldnever,”Fatherspits.
“Ifshe’sblinddrunkshewon’tknowupfromdown,andyou’dbesthopethere’snoyoungmantryingtoforgethisownheartache
withher.”
“Howdareyou—”
Gwen’sstomachtightenswithoutwarningandshevomitsalloverherdressandthestairs,snotandtearsrunningdownher
faceasshegags.Shehearsfootstepsasshetriestorightherself,triestoaimherheavesawayfromherdress,triesnot
toslipdownthestairs,hernarrowhoopskirtshiftingthiswayandthatasshesquirms.
“Sweetheart,”Fathersayssoftly,kneelingonthestepbelowhertobraceahandonherback.
“Servesyoubothright,”Mrs.Gilpesaystartly,steppingaroundGwentohurryuptothehallfortowelstocleanherup.
Gwengaspsinairasherstomachfinallycalms.Vomitinginacorsetandhoopskirtissomethingelse.Shesupposesatleast
therearen’tlayersandlayersofruinedpetticoatsnow.Justhersilkbrocadeskirtandlining.Shewipesathermouthwith
thebackofherhand,feelingwoozyandhorrible.
Fathergivesherasoftsmileandtakesouthishandkerchieftowipeoffherface,likehedidwhenshewassmall.Whenhe
wasalonewithalittlegirltoraise.Nowife.Nocomfort.Justcryingandbeggingandannoyance.
Andheretheyareagain,alonetogether.
“Nomoreportforyou,”hesaysandGwenlaughs,startled.
“You’renotsick,”shesays,goingforawhinethatcomesoutmorelikeahoarsewhisper.
“No,butI’mtallerandI’vemuchmoreexperience.Maybethiswillteachyounottotryandkeepup.You’reimpressiveenough
attwoglasses,youdidn’tneedfive.”
“Youletherhavefiveglasses?”Mrs.Stelmasks,appearingattheirsidewithatowel.ShepatsoverGwentomopupmostofthemess.
“I’msorry,”Gwentellsher,evenassheletsFatherandthedisgruntledMrs.Gilpegetheruptostanding.
“Heshouldbesorry,”Mrs.Gilpemutters.
“Andyoudoknowbetter,”Mrs.Stelmadds.
Gwencouldhugherforatleastadmittingshehasfaultinthismess.Sheknewshewasdrinkingtoomuch.Butithurtless
todrinkthantolistentoAlbie’sunclewaxpoeticaboutMeredithandtheupcomingweddingandhowthey’reallheadingfor
thecountryimmediatelyafterward.She’snotachild.She’sastupid,hurtingadult,andshe’sgottenwhatshedeservedfrom
this,heartacheandpainfulfamilyrevelationsandall.
Fatherwrapshisarmaroundherwaisttosteadyher.“I’llhelpGwennietobed.Thankyoufortakingcareofus.Wepromise
nottoworryyouagain,don’twe?”heasks,nudgingGwengently.
“Wepromise,”Gwenparrots.
Mrs.GilpesimplystaresatthemblanklybeforetakingthesoiledtowelsfromMrs.Stelm.Shemarchesaroundthemanddown
thestairstowardthelaundry.Fathersighs,rubbingatthebackofhisneck.
“Abottleofwhateverhasyoubothsloshedwouldn’tgoamiss,”Mrs.Stelmsays,winkingatFatherbeforefollowingMrs.Gilpe.
GwensagsagainstFather’sarmandheblowsoutabreath.“Allright.Let’sgetyoutobed,”hesays.
GwennodsandtogethertheyshuffletheirwayupthenextstaircaseanddownGwen’shall.She’sbreathingheavily,ribsand
stomachsore,throatraw,andhe’snotparticularlystable,butthey’rebothmuchmoresoberthanbefore.Shedoesn’tknow
howhedoesit,butlosingwhateverwasleftinherstomachhelped,disgustingasitwas.
Theymakeitintoherroomwithoutkillingthemselves.Gwenlooksaround,notingthefoldedclothingonherdresserandvanity,
therearrangedmakeupandhairpins,theorderlybed—amaidcameinandcleaned.Itdidn’tlookthiswaywhensheleftlast
night.Itwasasty.It’sbeenastyforweeks.
“Allright,letmedothelacesandsuch,andthenI’llturnaround,”Fathersays.
Gwenturnstoallowhimtoundotheeyeletsatthebackofherrelativelysimplefrock.Thesilkmaybefine,butit’saboring
navythat’snowdottedwith—ugh,betternotconsidered.
Fatherstepsbackandbusieshimselfpouringheraglassofwaterassheslipsoutofheroverdressandwrestlesherselfclumsily
outofherhoopskirt.ShehearsFathersnickeringasshebumblesaroundandhashalfamindtotossthesoiledoverdressat
him.Shelaysthedressoverhervanitychairandletsthehoopcollapsebythearmoire.
Shemakesclumsyworkofhercorsetandthenslipsintoherhousecoat.Shedoesupthesashbeforefallinggratefullyinto
herbed.
“Decent?”Fatherasks.
“Yep,”Gwensays,glancingovertofindhe’schuggedhalfherpitcherofwater.“Hey,Iwantsomeofthat.”
Helaughsandpasseshertheglassbeforesittingdownatherhipwhereshe’sproppedupinbed.“Areyoufeelingbetter?”
heasks.
Gwentakesafewswallowsandplacestheglassdownwithawobble.“Yes,”shesays,thoughit’sclearshe’snotfullysober
yet.Herlimbsfeeluncoordinated.
“We’lldobetter,”Fathersays,layinghishandonhercalfontopofthecomforter.“Findsomeactivitiesthatinvolveless
alcohol,hmm?”
“Agreed,”Gwensayssoftly.“Though,ifyoustillwanttogototheclub,youcan,youknow.You’vebeenhomealot,”she
says,watchingashefrowns.“NotthatImind.”
“IsupposeIhaven’tfeltmuchliketalkingpolitics,butIshouldcheckin,rounduptheyeavotesonelasttime.Perhaps
ifyou’dliketoattendafewteaswithLadyMeredith?”
Gwennods,evenastheveryideagivesheraheadache.Buttheybothhavetheirrolestoperform.“I’llbebetter,Ipromise.”
Hesmilesandleansintobrushhercheek.“You’reperfectjustasyouare.Don’tletthesocietymotherstellyouotherwise.
Andwhenyou’renotsodrunkyou’revomiting,you’readelight.We’llfindyousomeonesomeday.I’msorryitcouldn’tbeMiss
Demeroven.”
“Metoo,”Gwenadmits,herchesthitching.
Fathernodsandleansback,pattingherlegagain.“Allright,Isaywesleepuntilnoon,andthentakeapromenade,looking
ourbestandbrightest.”
Gwenblinks.“Won’t—onlyifit’scloudy?”
Fathergrimaces.“Goodthought.Betteryet,we’llsleepuntiloneandthenspendtherestofthedayinthelibrary.BribeMrs.Stelmwithsomeofthatporttogethertomakeyoursick-daysoupandplaychess.Andtomorrowwebecomerespectablemembersofthetonagain.Deal?”
“Deal,”Gwensays,shakingthehandheextendsbeforehestands.
Hesmilesdownatherandthenturnsandleavestheroom,closingthedoorsoftlybehindhim.Gwenstaresatthedoor,half
wantingtofollowafterhim—toask,toknow—didhavingherruinhislife?Hismistake—wasitworthit?
Butherheadisstillswimmingalittle,andhelovesher,thatmuchisclear.Howevershehappened,howeverhemarriedher
mother,hedidit.Andit’sthemagainsttheworld.She’llliveuptoherbargain,beapolitesocietyladyfortherestof
theseason,onlymildlytipsyandmakingsobermayhem.
Soshe’llbeafailurefourtimesrunning.Maybeshe’llreallygetamedal,oraplaque.
***
Fournightslater,asshestandswithAlbieandMeredithinthegrandYokelyballroom,shedesperatelywantstorenegeon
herpromise.MeredithandEloisearegoingonaboutribboncolorsandtaperheights,andAlbie’sbeentalkingtoProusfor
thepasttenminutesaboutlocomotives,withBobbychiminginonhisotherside.
AllGwen’shadtodoisstarearoundatthecrowdedballroom.Ofcourseit’sgrand,withitsmassivechandelierandshinymarbledfloor.Thewhite-paneled,two-storywallsmakethespacefeelendless,andshesupposesalltheflowersarebeautiful.She’sbeenitchingtoslipoutintothegardensforaboutanhour,butAlbiewon’tleaveMeredith,andBobby’salreadytipsy.Shedoesn’tthinkFatherwouldapproveofhergettingdrunkwithhimasecondtime.
Atleastnothere,attheballoftheseason.Everyonewho’sabsolutelyanyoneishere.Thedancingneverseemstostop,and
themothersallhaveacrazed,predatorylookintheireyes.They’reapproachingthelastmonthoftheseason,andit’seat
orbeeatennow.
She’sgladatleasttobewithfriends.Whensheentered,shewasforcedtodancewithtwoofFather’scompatriotsfromhis
smokingclubbeforeshecouldexcuseherselfandstealaway.
ShepromisedFathershewouldn’tdrink.ButwhenBethDemerovenstepsuptotheircirclewithLordMontson,greetingEloise,
Meredith,andAnnabethwithsmilesbutgivingGwenonlyabriefflickoftheeyes,Gwendecidestosodherpromise.She’s
abouttotakeAlbie’sdrinkwhenhenudgesherandsherealizesinherdesperationtonumbthepain,she’smissedMontson
addressingherheadon.
“Apologies,Icouldn’thear,”Gwensays,dippingintoashortcurtsy.
“Iaskedifyouwerequiterecovered,”MontsonsaysandGwenswallows,tighteningherjaw.
ApparentlyafterthelastpublicballAlbiebeganarumorthathedraggedGwenandFatheroutbecausetheywerebothillwith
foodpoisoning.Howhemanagedit,Gwendoesn’tknow,giventhattheywerebothclearlydrunkandnotatallpoisoned.But
itseemstohavestuck,andshe’sbeenwavingoffconcernsallevening.
“Quite,”shesays,keepinghervoicelight.
ShecanfeelBeth’seyesonherbutcan’tmeetthem.Instead,shegoestostepback,eagertoexcuseherself.OnlyAlbie’sgriponherelbowstopsher,preventingherfrombeingrudetooneofthehighest-statusyoungmenintheroom,evenifhehasstolentheloveofherlife.BlastedAlbie.
“Wasitthefish?”Bethasks.
GwenfeelsAlbie’shandtightenaroundherelbowandsheturnshergazetomeetBeth’s.“No.Ithinkitwasthechicken,”
shesaysaspolitelyasshecanmanage.
“Funny,IhadthechickenandIwasperfectlyfine,”Bethcontinues.
Whyisshepushingthis?“WellI’mglad.Nooneshouldbeputthroughfoodpoisoning.Dreadfulbusiness.LadyMeredith,you
mentionedyouruncleonceservedarancidtroutbutthedoggottoitfirst,didn’the?”
SheturnstofindMeredithstaringbackather,abitagog.“Um,yes.Itwashorrid.Wehadtoputhimdown,actually.”
She’dforgottenthattheendofthestorywastragic.“Right.”
“Goodthingwedon’tdothattopeople,eh?”Montsonputsin.
Thegrouptittersastheyallshiftuncomfortably.She’ssurenooneknowsexactlywhytheairnowfeelssoheavy,butit’s
cleartheycanallsensethetension.
“Itisagoodthingwedon’tmurdertheill,yes,”Albieagrees,elbowingBobbywhenheletsoutastartledlaugh.“Though
Isupposethepracticeismoretoeasesufferingthanpunishanimalsforfallingsick.”
“Wouldn’tthatbeaworld,”Montsonsays.
“Actually,theydidusedtomurderpeopleforbeingsick.It’salargepartofhowtheplaguewaseradicated,”Bethchimes
in.
Sheshrinksamomentlaterwhenalloftheeyesinthecircleswingtohers.Gwenfightsagainstlaughing.Bethisjustsostupidlyfunnyandcharming.It’sterriblyunfair.
“Quiteright,”Montsonmanages,lookingabitalarmedathisfuturebride.“Weshouldallbegratefulthere’snolongera
plague.”
Bethopenshermouth,andGwenoddlyhopesshe’sabouttogoononeofherrantsaboutplagueisolationislands.Butthis
isn’tamonthago,andthey’renottipsyandpressedupagainstthewall.“I’mgladyou’refeelingbetter,”Bethsaysinstead,
meetingGwen’seyes.“You’vebeenillalotrecently.Idohopeyou’refirmlyonthemend.”
Gwenmeetsherlook,thatmomentaryhopeseepingoutofher.Isthataveiledreferencetoherdrinking?“Thankyou.I’msure
I’llgetoverthelastofitsoonenough,”shesays,feelingaswellofbothprideandpainasBeth’slookhardens.
“Aslongasyoustayawayfromthesource,Isupposethat’sthenaturalwayofthings,”Bethsays.
“Thesourcestaysfarfrommenow,”Gwenreturns.
Albie’shandslipshigherupherarm,squeezing,butGwen’sattentionisfirmlyonBeth’sdisapproval.
“Areyoubeingstalkedbyadisgruntled,diseasedchicken?”Montsonwonders.
Gwenforcesalaughforhissake.“No,no,just…sometimesitseemswhileI’mavoidingfurtherdisease,it’sactively
seekingmeout,likeit’sdrawntome,somehow.”
“Perhapsitcansmellweakness,”Annabethputsin.
“Thatmustbeit,”Meredithaddsquickly.
“OrthatI’mreadytofightitwhenitcomes,”Gwencounters,notlikingtheinsinuationthatshe’satfaulthere.
LordMontsonandBethapproachedhercircle,afterBethmadeitsoabundantlyclearthatanyassociationwithherwouldruinherengagement.Isshesupposedtotakethehighroad,whenBeth’sflauntinghernew,happylifeinherface?
“Andhowwouldyoufightit?”Bethprompts.
“Oh,Icanthinkofanumberofwaysto—”
“Montson?”
Montsonturnsandtakesthehandofatall,mustachioedman.“Rodgers,goodtoseeyou.”
“Yourfathersentmetofetchyou,ifyourlovelyfiancéecanspareyouforabit,”themansays.
“Yes,ofcourse,”Montsonsaysimmediately.“You’llkeepBethentertained,won’tyou?”heasksthegroup.
Therearenodsaroundthecircle.MontsonsmilesbeforesettingoffwithBaronRodgerswithoutevenaglanceatBeth.Beth
watcheshimgoandthenlooksbackatthem,puttingonabrave,unbotheredface.ButGwencanseethecracks.Herworldhas
narrowednowtojustLordMontson,andwithouthim,whatdoesshehave?Whodoesshehave?
ItmakesGwenfeeljustalittlebitmean.
“I’msureit’sveryimportant,whateverthey’retalkingabout,”Gwensays,andevenshecanhearhowsnideshesounds.
“Yes,it’sabouttheMatrimonialCausesAct,I’msure,”Bethreturns.“LordMontson’sworkinghardwithhisfathertosee
thatitdoesn’tpass.Yourfatherisdesperatelytryingtoholdontohisvotes,Iexpect?”
Gwencurlsherfistsintoherskirts,evenasAlbiekeepsholdofherarm.SheknowsBethsupportstheact.RemembershersayingeverythingcouldhavebeendifferentifLadyDemerovencouldhaveescapedherfather’shold.Howdareshethrowitaroundsocasually—liketheactpassingwouldn’talsoprotectherfromthemiserablelifeshe’sboundtohavewithLordMontson.Themanjustabandonedhertoagroupofpeoplehisfatherhasforbiddenherfromspeakingto.Hardlyagreatprotector.
“Hecertainlyhasn’tstruggledtogetthem.Thelivesofunhappilymarriedwomenandwomentobeunhappilymarrieddepend
onit,don’tyouthink?”Gwentossesback.
“Allright,Ican’tdothisanymore.Let’sgotothegardens.It’sstiflinginhere,”Albiesays,alittleoverloud.
“Ineedthelavatory,actually,”Meredithsays,exchangingaveryunsubtlelookwithAlbiebeforegrabbingAnnabethandEloise
andmarchingthemoff.
“Youtwo,outside,now,”Albiesaysgruffly,noddingtoBobbytoescortBethwhileheallbutmanhandlesGwenaroundandtoward
theopenpatiodoors.
“Whatareyoudoing?”shehissesashemarchesheroutsideandintothecoolnightair.
“YouandMissDemerovenaregoingintothegardensandyou’regoingtohavewhateverthisisout.We’lldistractMontsonif
heshowsbackup.It’sdark,noonewillnotice,andI’mfranklysickofyoueitherbeingdrunkordepressed.”
Gwengapesupathimashehaulshertothemouthofthehedgemaze,moreexpansiveandgranderthantheHarringtons’.The
verysightofitsendsshiversdownherspinewithmemoriesofthelasttimesheandBeth—shecan’tdothis.
“Youcanletgo,”shehears.
SheturnsandfindsBobbylookingawfullysheepishwhileBethshakesoutherarm.“Sorry,”Bobbymumbles.
“In,bothofyou,”Albiedirects,waitingwithhisarmoutstretchedtowardthehighgreenwalls.“Comebackwhenyoucanbe
civil.”
“Ican’t,”Bethsays,lookingabitpale.
“We’lltellanyonewhoasksthatyou’reinthelavatory,andthenwithMeredith.Noonewillknow,”Albieinsists.
“AndifIwon’t?”Bethchallenges.
“Yeah,”Gwenadds.“SupposewealljuststandhereuntilLordAshmondspotsus,whatthen,Albie?”
Shemeansitasataunttohercousin,tohighlightthefutilityofhisruse,butBethgroansandstridesstraightintothe
hedgemaze.AlbiegrinsandgesturesforGwentofollow.Thatwasn’ttheoutcomeshewanted.
AlbieraisesaneyebrowandGwengivesherownfrustratedsigh,stalkingafterBeth.Whoisshekidding—ofcoursethisis
whatshewanted.She’sjustnotsurewhattodowiththeopportunitynowthateverything’ssohorriblybroken.
ChapterTwenty-ThreeBeth
Bethwendsthroughthehedgerows,stompingabitandlisteningtoGwenshufflealongbehindher.She’snotreadytofaceher
yetandsokeepswindingthemdeeperintothelabyrinth.LordMontsonabandonedher,andGwenwasgoadingher,andshe’strussed
upandhotandtiredandshejustwantstokeepstormingawayuntilshefadesintothesestupidhedgesforever.
“Beth,Jesus,stop.”
Shewhipsaround,startledbyGwen’shoarsewhisper,andfindstheotherwomanonlyfeetaway.She’sslightlysweatyanda
littledisheveledbynow,bututterly,wrenchinglygorgeous.Herblondhairhasfalleninwhispsaroundherfacewiththe
restofitpiledupinatwistedbraidonherhead.Hercollarbonescatchthemoonlightabovethemandhereyesseembigger
anddarkerhere,aloneinthehedges.
She’ssobeautiful,andsowonderful,andtherejustinfrontofher,andBethcan’thaveher.Thefrustrationmakesheritch
topunchsomething.“Nochampagneforthehedges?”
Shefeelsvicious,likeifshejabsGwenhardenoughmaybeshecanpullherdownintoherpitofdespair.BecausewhileBeth’sbeenmiserableandalone,it’slookedlikeGwen’sbeenhavingamarveloustimebeing“ill”withdrink,cavortingwithhercousinsandfather,onebighappyfamily.
“I’mrefraining,”Gwensaystightly.“I’msurprisedyouletAlbieforceyouinhere.Youmusthavepeopletotalkto,invitations
togiveout,flowerstopick.”
“Wellwecan’tallgambleanddrinkourfeelingsaway.Someofushaveresponsibilities.”
“Yes,likecondemningdecadesofwomentounhappymarriages.Can’tletthatonegoby.”
“Don’ttalkpoliticsnow,”Bethsaysquickly.“I’msickofit.It’salltheytalkabout.”
“Youweren’tsickofitintheballroom,”Gwencounters.“MorethanhappytotakeMontson’ssidenow,aren’tyou?”
“WhatelseamIsupposedtodo?”Bethexclaims,hervoicerisingabovetheirheatedwhisper.“Ifit’snottalkofthewedding,
it’stalkofthatstupidact.Yougettodrinkandrunwild,andI’mtrappedwiththemallthetime.”
“Ihaven’tbeenrunningwild,”Gwenargues.
“You’vebeenhavingagayoldtimeforgettingaboutme,andI’mtrappedinhell,”Bethspitsback.
“YouthinkI’mhavingfun,watchingyouparadearoundwithMontson?Youthinkthisisn’trippingmeapart?Youleftme,like
yesterday’strash,”Gwensays,steppingcloser,herfacedarkandtight.“Youthrewmeaway,threwmyfatheraway,andyou
wanttojudgehowwe’recopingwhileyou’rethetalkoftheton?”
“Ididn’tthrowyouaway,”Bethsaysquickly,thefightsappedoutofhernowthatshe’sthisclosetoGwen.Nowthatshe
canseethetearsrunningdownherlover’sface.Nowthatshecanseeshe’slostweight,canseethebagsbeneathhereyes.
“Yougetthisbiglife,withtheprideoftheton.Luxuryandhappiness.AndI’mstuckwatchingyouhaveitwhileeveryone
elsearoundmegoesofftotheirstupidhappyendings.AndI’mjuststandingtherewithnoone.Youdon’tthinkit’skilling
me?”
Bethfindsherselfreachingoutbeforeshecanthinkaboutit,cuppingGwen’sjawinherhandandsteppingforwarduntiltheir
skirtspresstogether.“YoulookworsethanMother,”Bethwhispers,searchingGwen’seyes.
“What?”Gwenasks,thewordsoft,herwholebodygoneslackatBeth’stouch
“She’sbeentakinglaudanum,”Bethadmits,allherangerandhurtdissolvingtoaquietpeacenowthatthey’retogetherhere,
alone,justforamoment.“Andeventhenshe’sbarelysleeping.Butshewon’ttalkaboutit.”
“Why?”Gwenwonders.
BethalmostsmilesasGwen’shandssettleonherhips,toomanyhoopsandskirtstofeelmorethanthepressure,butit’s
there.“Youthinkit’sallhappinessandweddingplanning,butIenvyyou.Motherenviesyouandyourfather,laughinganddrinkingwhilewe’retrappedinthiswakingnightmarewiththeseterriblepeople
thatjust…goesonforever,”shesays,wrappingherotherarmaroundGwen’sneckuntiltheirforeheadspresstogether.
“Sowe’reinmutualmisery,”Gwenmurmurs,curlingcloseruntilherhandsmeetbehindBeth’sback.
“Imissyou,”Bethadmits,lookinguptomeetGwen’seyes,almosttooclose,alittleblurry.
Gwennodsandleansdown,pressingherlipstoBeth’sinachastekiss.Inthemoonlight,atthebackofthishedgemazeatthebiggestballoftheseason,itfeelslikethey’reinamomentoutsideoftime.Adétentefromallthepainandacrimonyandseparation.
“Imissyoutoo,”Gwensays.Shepullsbacksotheycanseeeachother.Eventhemoonishelping,unusuallybright.“Maybe
youcouldseeMeredithsometimes,andIcouldhappentobethere,andnooneneedstoknow.”
Bethsighs,themomentshattered.It’snotenough.
“Idon’twantthat,”Bethmumbles.Gwengoestopullaway,butBethshakesherhead,slidingherhandtocupthebackofGwen’s
neck.“Idon’twantjustthat,”sheamends.“Iwant—thisissostupid.Allofusmiserable,andforwhat?”
Gwensighs.“Sowedon’tendupdestitutewithourparentsruined.”
Bethblinks.Theirparents.
Thepropermarriagepresenteditself,andBethjust…accepteddefeat.Submittedtothisterriblefuturebecausehermother
toldhertheyshould—toldheritwastheonlyway.Shetrustedthathermotherknewbest.Thatshehadtrulyconsideredevery
possibleoption.Buthermotherwaswrong
This—allofthemdevastatedandheartbroken—can’tbetheonlywayout.Bethrefusestobelieveit.Refusestostandbyand
watchthemallsufferforeverbecausetheyweren’tbraveenougheventohope
IfMothercouldjustopenhereyes—couldbelieveshe’sworthyofLordHavenfort’saffections—ifBethcanjustmakehersee
reason,theycanchangethis.SheandGwenhadaplan,andtheyjust—
“Wesurrendered!”Bethexclaims,wincingasthesoundbouncesaroundtheirlittlehedgerow.
“What?”
“Ourparents.We—God,Gwen.Wejustgaveup.Wecouldstill—wouldyourfatherstillpropose,doyouthink?”
Gwengapesather.“Wouldmy—youwanttogetourparentstogether,now?Wetried,itwasamiserablefailure,”shesaysslowly.
Bethshakesherhead.“Itwasn’tthough.Inthebeginning,maybe.Butoncetheystartedtalkingagain—Mothercriedallthe
wayhomethedaywehadtobreakoffourfriendshipwithyou.Shewassohappybeforethat.Theywereinlove,I’msureof
it.”Gwenstaresather.“Yourfather’sbeendrunkasaskunkforweeks.Isthatnormalbehavior?”
“Well,notnormal,exactly—”
“Andmymother,takinglaudanum?I’vebeentellingmyselfit’sjustexhaustionandresignation—theAshmondsreallyarequite
dullandtheiropinions—butshe’ssad.She’sheartbroken,justlikeIam.”
Gwenblinksdownather,headcockedtotheside,andBethsurgesupinrenewedjoy,pressingahardkisstohermouth.She
pullsawaybeforeGwenlistsintoher,slidingherhandsaroundtotakeGwen’ssotheycanseeeachotherfully.
“Wecanstilldothis,can’twe?”Bethslotstheirfingerstogetheruntilthey’reclutchedknuckletoknuckle.
Gwenhesitates.“I’mnotsure.”
“Can’twetry?”Bethinsists.“Theweddingisinthreeweeks.Wecouldstilldoit.”
Gwensucksonhercheek,consideringher.Bethfillsupwithhope,planningalready.They’llforcetheirparentstogether.
Everyonegetstobehappy.
“Doyouthinkyourmotherwouldallowit?”
“Allowwhat?”Bethasks.
“Thescandal.YoudumpingMontsonwillinflametensionsthatarealreadythere.Andmyfather’svotesfortheMCAaresoprecarious—”
“You’rereallycitingthatdamnactasareasonnottodothis?”Bethexclaims,gapingatGwenandtryingtotugherhands
free.“Youcan’tbeserious.”
“I’mnotsayingwecan’ttry,”Gwensays,holdingtightandsighing.“Ijust—you’reabouttomarryoneofthemostinfluential
meninthewholeofLondon.Breakingyourengagementisnosmallmatter.”
“Iknowthat,”Bethsnapsback,unnervedbyGwen’scalm,detachedtone.“Butifitwouldmakeourparentshappy,andushappy,
whatdoesitmatter?Yourfathercanpassthebill.LordAshmondwouldn’tbeblusteringaboutitifhewasn’tworried.”
“Isuppose,”Gwensaysslowly.
“Sosodit.GetyourfathertoproposeandI’llbreakitoffwithLordMontsonandthey’llvoteandwecanleaveLondon,the
fourofustogether.”
GwengentlypullsherhandsfromBeth’s.“Youknowit’snotthatsimple.Wegotluckybefore.I’mnotsurewe’llgetlucky
again.”
Bethcurlsheremptyhandsintoherskirts,thehopedeflatinginherchest.Butshe’snotgoingtogivethisupwithouta
fightagain.She’snotgoingtoletGwenbecomeadrunkandletherselfbecomeabroodmareforLordMontson.
Itwasn’tjustluck.Therewassomethingthere.Therehadtobe.Theycanchangethis.
“Doesyourfathernotlovemymotheranymore?”
Gwenmeetshereyes,startled.“What?”
“Icanstillseeit,thewayhelooksather.Likeyou’relookingatmerightnow,”sheadds,appealingtowhatsheknowsGwenistryingtohide.Whatsheherselfhasbeentryingtohideforweeks.“Ifhethoughthestoodachance,wouldhetryagain?”
Gwenshiftshershoulders,glancingaroundtheirlittlehideaway.“Wouldyourmothersayyes?”Bethhesitatesforamoment.
“BecauseIwon’tputhimthroughthisathirdtime.”
“Icanconvinceher,”Bethsaysfirmly,thoughitsoundsweakeventoherownears.
CansheconvincehermothertogiveupthesecurityofanalliancewiththeAshmonds?Cansheconvinceherthatthefourof
themwouldwithstandtheresultingscandal?ConvinceherthatLordHavenfortwouldneverleavetheminthesituationherfather
did?
BecauseBethdoesn’tcareifthere’sinsecuritydowntheway.Thisstolen,fraughtmomentwithGwenisthebestshe’sfelt
inweeks.Liketheachinglonelinesshasbeenpunchedoutofherchest,leavingnothingbutjoyinitswake.Andifhaving
Gwenmeansbeinginvitedtofewerballs,allthebetter.Ifitmeanswatchinghermotherrelax,watchingherbetreatedwell,
watchingherbeloved?AftermorethanBeth’slifetimeofsadness,isolation,andabuse,Motherdeservessomehappiness,whatever
thecost.
“Canyoureally?”Gwenpresses.“I’mnotgoingtogethishopesupagain.Ican’t—Ican’tgetmyownhopesupagain.”
Bethresolvesthenthatit’shappinessorbust.They’llmakethiswork.They’llgettheirparentstoadmittheirlove,to
committoeachother,andthensheandGwencanwalkintothesunsettogether.Societywillnolongercareaboutthem,daughters
oftwojoinedempires.
“I’llconvinceher,”Bethsaysagain,pushingallherhopeanddesireintothewords.“Allyouneedtodoisconvincehimthere’shope.”
Gwenconsidersherforalong,painfulpause.Bethpullsherselfuptohertallest,hermostconfident.Theycandothis.
She’ssure.
Atleast,she’ssureshewantstobesure.
“Allright,”Gwensays.
“Really?”Bethasks.
Gwenlaughssoftlyandstepsbackuptoher,wrappingherinherarms.BethburiesherfaceinGwen’sshoulder,carefulof
hergown,andbreathesherin.Shesmellslikelilacsandsweat,sweetandtangy.
“Ifyou’reconvinced,I’mconvinced,”Gwentellsthesideofherhead.“I’mreallynotstrongenoughtoloseyouagain.”
“Thatmakestwoofus,”Bethsays,pullingbacktomeethereyes.“Sowe’lltry?”
“We’lltry,”Gwenagrees.Sheglancesoverhershouldertoconfirmthey’restillaloneandthenlooksback,hergazedistinctly
morepredatory.“Howlongdoyouthinkwe’vebeenhere?”
“Tenminutes,maybe?”Bethposits,steppingbacktowardthehedgesandtuggingGwenwithher.“Wecouldstandanotherten,
couldn’twe?Wegotlost.”
“Terriblylost,”Gwenagrees,followingBethanddippingherheaddowntoskateherlipsupBeth’sthroat.
Bethsighswhenherbackhitsthehedge.Gwengruntsasshe’smomentarilyknockedawayfromher.
“Thesedamnskirts,”Bethgrowls,tuggingGweninandbumpingherhoopofftotheleftwhilehersshiftstotheright.
Gwenhumsinapprovalandcrashestheirmouthsbacktogether.Andthenthey’relostintheheatoflipsandteethandtongue.Intheirprivatesighsandmoans.Intheirmutualfrustrationofallthelayersandthesilksandthatno,neitherofthemcangetonthegroundrightnow,andthere’snotabench,and,God,didnoonethinkaboutthepoorladiesitchingto—
Wellofcoursetheydidn’t.
Theycontentthemselveswithtenminutesoffiercelytradedkissesuntileventheheatofeachother’shandscan’tdistract
themfromtheirresponsibilitiesinside.
Gwenstepsbackfirst,herlipstooplumpandbodiceaskew.“WeshouldgetyoubacktoLordMontson.He’llhavehadtimeto
missyounow.”
“Shutup,”Bethsays,shakingherheadassherightsherownbodiceandgingerlytouchesherhair.“Allright?”
“You’refine.Ithinkyoudidanumberonminethough,”Gwensays,pattingatthebraidBethaccidentallytuggeddownfrom
herupdo.
“Oh,damn,here,letme,”Bethsays,steppingforwardjustasMr.Masonappearsattheendoftheirhedgerow.
“I’vegother.Youneedtogetback.”HiseyesflickoverthemandBethtriestostepintotheshadowssohecan’tseeher
flushedcheeksandkiss-rawlips.“You’remorethaninvigoratedenoughbytheair.”
“Mr.—Albie,it…isn’t,”Bethstarts.
“Youtwomadeup?”heasks,cuttingheroffwithaknowinglook.
BethglancesbackatGwen,whojustrollshereyes.“Um,yes,”shesaysslowly.
“Good.Gwencanfillmein.BobbywillescortyoubacktoMeredith,who’swaitingtobringyoubackinside.”
“Thankyou,I—”Bethstarts,steppingtowardhimwithafinalglancebackatGwen—beautiful,disheveled,sokissableGwen—
“HurtheragainandIwon’tbetheonehaulingyououtofthebushes,”hesayslowlyasshereacheshisside.
“I’lldomybest,”Bethsayshonestly,reachingouttosqueezehisarmbeforehurryingthroughthemaze.Becausenowthat
sheknowsatleastGwen’scousinsapprove,there’sevenlesscallinghertoreturntoherfakelife.
Theyjusthavetosurvivethenextfewweeks,convincetheirparentstomarry,andthenundergothescandal.That’sall.Easy.ChapterTwenty-FourGwen
It’sashortwalkfromtheTudor-styleHenley-on-ThameslocomotivestationtoHenleybridge,butittakesnearlyanhourof
pushingandshovingtodoit.Bythetimethey’vehauledhalfwayacrossthebridge,Father’snewwhitelinensuitandtop
hatlookabitdusty,andthere’smudonGwen’sdeepbluegown,thewhiteedgingalmostinvisiblebeneaththemuck.
Gwenstaresoutattheriver,wonderinghowthescullswillevenracewithsomanyotherboatslitteringthewaterforan
up-closeview.Shethinksitmightbenicesomeyeartogethereafewdaysearlyandhaveaboat.Wakeupatthecrackof
dawnandjustrowout.MaybesheandBethcoulddothat.Noonewouldlooktwiceattheminalittleboat.
Notlikethescrutinythey’llfacetodaybesidetheStewardEnclosure.Theroyaltentisalreadypackedfullwhentheyfinally
shufflepast.Gwenwondersifshecouldevenseethequeeniftherewerefewerpeople,tinywomanthatsheis.Ifshe’shere
atall.Hardtotell,honestly.
Instead,theyarriveatthethirdtentalongthewater,steppinggratefullyintotheshadeandoutofthehotsummersun.Whitelinenclothscoveraseriesofpicnictables,andmembersofthetonmillaboutinacrowdthat’sstillmorethanclaustrophobicenoughtomakeGwenwince.Theymaynothaveasmanyguestsastheroyalsdo,butit’sstillapress.
Gwensubtlyshuntsherfathertowardthenorthernedgeoftheirtent,pointingtotwosuspiciouslyemptyseatsatthefront
wheretheycangratefullycollapse.Gwenplunksdown,ignoringthatherrightarmisfullyinthesun.Fathersitsbeside
her,loosenshiscravat,andrestshishatinhislapwithasigh.
“Finallymadeit,didyou?”
AlbieleansaroundFathertowinkather.Didhereservetheirseats?Howwouldheeven—
“Andthat’sfurtherproofthatthecommonfolkcan’tbetrusted.Justlookattheblockagethere,”avoiceboomsdisparagingly
totheirright.
Gwenglancesover,andlowandbeholdtherestandsLordAshmond,surveyingthecommonersalongtheriverwithdisgust.Behind
him,BethandLadyDemerovensitstone-facedwhilehiswifetittersalong.Bethlookswonderfulinalightpinkfrothofa
gown.She’sfanningherselfmanicallyandLadyDemerovenbesideherlooksreadytomeltalready.
Theymightactuallypullthisoff.
FathergruntsasLordAshmondcontinuestobloviateaboutthingsthatshouldbekeptsilent,oratworst,mutteredunderone’s
breath.Howhisentiretenthasn’talreadypushedhimintotheriverisanyone’sguess.They’veclearlybeenthereforan
hourlongerthananyoneinGwen’s.
“Here.”
BobbyappearsonherothersidewithtwoflutesofchampagneforherandFather.Shegrabshersgratefully,takingalarge
sip.Bobbysettlesintothechairbehindthem,downinghisownglass.
“Horrid,isn’the?”Bobbysays,noddingtowardLordAshmond,whohasnowattractedasmallhordeofequallylow-mindedparliamentarians.
“Quite,”Fatheragrees.“Now,whoareyourootingfor,Bobby?”heasks,turningtoregardheryoungercousin.
“Oh,theLondonRowingClub,forsure.They’regoingtotrouncetheLeanderClub.Apologies—Iknowyouhadsaidthey’reyour
favorite,Raverson,”headdstoayoungergentlemannexttohim.
“Oh,I’lltakeaskirmish,nomatterwhowins,”themansays,smirkingatBobby.Hisdeepbrowneyesarequitestriking.“I
don’tthinkwe’vemet,”headdstoFather.
“LordHavenfort,”Fathersays,extendinganawkwardlyangledhand.“Andthisismydaughter,LadyGwen.”
“Apleasure,”themansays,noddingtoGwensoalockofalmost-blackhairfallsoverhisface.“ViscountRaverson.”
Shefeelssheshouldprobablythinkhimquitehandsome.ButhepalesinabsurdcomparisontoBethandnoamountofstraight
whiteteethandbroadshoulderswillswayheronthatfact.
“Ah,Iknewyourfather.I’msorryforyourloss,”Fathersaysquickly.“WillyoubejoiningtheLordsinhisstead?”
“Thankyou,”ViscountRaversonsaysratherflatly.Gwengetsthefeelinghedoesn’tharbordeepgriefovertheloss.“Iwill.
It’sactuallywhyI’mheretoday.IwantedtogetyouropiniononthisMatrimonialCausesAct.Fatherwasvehementlyopposed
asyouknow,butI’mnotsosure.”
ShewatchesinresignationasFather’sfacelightsup.“Ofcourse,ofcourse.Helpmegatherfoodformylovelysingledaughter,
andwe’lldiscuss,”hesays,winkingatGwenashestands.
Sheonlyjustrefrainsfromswattinghim.Shewantsnopartinhismatchmaking,especiallynotwhenit’stakinghimdecidedlyawayfromherownplans.Sheslumpsinherseatasheandtheviscountmaketheirwaybacktowardthecateredbuffetattherearofthetent.ShelooksoutoverthewaterandspotsMontsonenteringoneofthesculls,alongwithacrewofthreeotheryoungmen.ShehopestheLRCtrouncesthemviciously.
“Wanttomakeitinteresting?”Albieasks.
Gwensighsanddigsinherskirts,pullingoutafewpoundsandhandingthemoverwithoutlookingatAlbie.“Putthatonthe
LRContopofwhateverFather’sbet.”
“Don’tworry.Raversonseemsmalleable,”BobbysaysasAlbieturnsbacktoMeredith,pocketingGwen’smoney.“Hemaybea
handsomeface,butIdidn’tgetthesensehehasanyrealinterest.”
“Isupposethat’sgood,”Gwenmumbles.BobbyleansontoFather’schair,hisfacelevelwithherown.“Doyouknowhim?”
“HewasayearabovemeatOxford,Ithink.Didn’tgettoknowhimwell.Butifyourfathercanconvincehim,thatmightbe
thedecidingvote.”
“PerhapsIshouldhavemademoreofaneffort,”Gwensays,glancingbackatthem.Shemaynotbeswayedbytheman’ssmile,
butshecouldhelpingatheringvotes.Menhavesomeuses,afterall.
“IthinkweshouldfocusonwhateveritisyouandMissDemerovenhaveplanned.”
Gwengoesstill.“What?”shemanagesinelegantly.
“You’vebeenglancingathereveryminuteorso,andshe’sbeenstaringatyouforthepastfive.Hermotherlooksawful.”
Despiteherself,Gwenflickshereyesovertothenexttent.LadyDemerovendoeslooklikeshe’sonlyafewminutesfrompassingout.“BethandIarejust…acquaintances,”Gwensaysslowly,dragginghergazebacktomeetBobby’s,soclosehe’salmostblurry.
Fartoocloseforcomfort.
Gwenstandsup,tuggingherownfanfromherskirts.Shefansherselfandleansoutofthetentundertheguiseofwatching
thelineup.They’repushingofffromthedocks,sothefirstheatcan’tbetoolongnow.
“Doyouneedadistraction?”
“Doyoumind?”sheasksBobby,leaningaroundhimtogetalookatBeth.
Hegrins,rockingbackandforthonhisfeetwherehe’ssidledupbesideher.“What’stheaim?”
Gwensighs,glancingbehindhimtotryandcatchAlbie’sattention,buthe’sthoroughlyengrossedinconversationwithone
ofMeredith’scousinsnow.Shedoesn’twantBobbyunderfootforthis,butshecan’tmaketoomuchofafuss.Fathermaybe
atthebackofthetent,butit’snotthatfar,andhishearing’stoogood
“Youpromisenottosayanything?”shemutters.
“Crossmyheart,”Bobbysayseagerly.“I’matyourdisposal.”
GwensighsandtugsBobbyfurtheroutofthetent,likethey’retryingtoleanoverthebanktogetthebestview.“Allright.
We’rehopingmyfathermightcometohermother’saidshouldsheneedtogointotheboathouseandoutofthesun.”
Bobbyblinksbackather.“That’sall?”
“What?”
“That’syourwholebigplantogetLordHavenfortandLadyDemeroventogether?”
“Whosaid—”
“Albie’sbeenontoyouforages.Thoughtitwasagoodlaugh,andthenwhateveruglybusinesshappenedwiththeAshmondsand
you’vebeendownrightdreary.”
Gwenfeelsaflushrisingupherneck.Hasshebeenthattransparent?AndwhendidBobbystartpayinganyattentiontoher
goings-on,orherfather’sforthatmatter?Andwhendidhegetsotall?Shehastolookupatherlittlecousinnowandit’s
ratherinfuriating.
“Sowhat’sthestrategy—justhopeshefaints?”
Gwengroanssoftlyintoherfan.Thatsoundssostupidwhenhesaysitoutloud.“Beth’sbeenpushingchampagneonher.”
“Andthat’senough?”
ShetakesinBobby’sunimpressedface.“Well,youtrywearingallthelayersandmovingaroundinahoopinthisheat.It’s
nopicnic.”
Bobbyglancesatthepicnickersacrosstheriver,whoareusingthedayforexactlythat,andwholookfarmorecomfortable
thantheyare.Gwenshifts,enjoyingthelightbreezethatwaftsupfromtheriverandsettlesbeneathherskirts.Wouldthat
shecouldwearlinenslikeBobby.
Shethinksshemightlookdashinginasuit.MaybeshecangetFathertotailoroneforhersomeday.IfsheandBethdon’t
succeed,maybeshecouldatleastgetawholerackofthemasconsolationpresents.
Gwenshakesherself.They’regoingtosucceed,Bobby’sdubiousconcernaside
“AndhowareyouplanningondistractingLordAshmondlongenoughforyourfathertoneedtostepin?”
Gwenwrinkleshernose.“We’rewingingthatbit.”
“Great.Goodstrategy.Excellent,”Bobbysays.
“Couldyoubelessofabrat,please?”shehisses.
“Fortwosuchsmartwomen,thisisadreadfulplan.”
Gwenglaresback.Herfierceneedforthistoworkistheonlythingkeepinghergoing,becausetheirtrackrecordisadmittedly
terribleandtheiroptionsseverelylimited.Theyknowit’sadreadfulplan.Shedoesn’tneedBobbyrubbingthatinherface
ontopofeverythingelse.
“Howaboutthis—wewaituntilMontson’srunhisfirstrace.They’llprobablywin.”
“Wait,IthoughttheLRCwasagiven.HaveIjustblownmymoney?”Gwenasks,momentarilydistracted.
Bobbylaughs.“They’llwinthefirstheat.MontsonandJordanarebothouttoprovethemselves,andthey’llovercompensate
onthefirstgo.Bythesecond,they’llbetired,andrightuselessbythethirdheat.TheLondonRowingClubwillwin,but,
moreimportantly,LordAshmondwillbeinsufferableafterthefirstheat.Gloating.”
“And?”
“Andthat’swhenAlbieandIshouldstartanargumentwithhimaboutLeander.We’llcrowdhim,andLadyDemerovenandMiss
Demerovenwillhavetostepout,andthenintheheat,withthehubbub,she’llgetfaint,andasyou’retryingtodragyour
fatherovertobreakupourargument,he’lljust…havetocatchher.”
GwengapesatBobby.That’s—that’sanexcellentplan.Truly.Simple,butcrafty.Nuancedinalltherightways.
“Whenthehelldidyougrowup?”shedemands.
Bobbysmirksandnudgesher.“Wedrankafewweeksago.”
“We’vedrunkforseasons.This—you’llbearightcatchnextseason,youknow?”shesayshonestly,impressed.Chastenedtoo,sincehisplanisdeceptivelysimple,andtheyreallyshouldhavecomeupwithitthemselves.
Theyshouldhaveaskedforhelpamonthago.She’sbeentellingherselfshe’slosingAlbietoMeredith—andpossiblylosing
Bobbybyextension.Butthey’vebeentherethewholetime,hopingandspeculating.Albiewouldhavesaidyes,ifshe’dasked.
HecouldprobablyhaveevenconvincedMeredithtoo.She’sjustbeentoobusywallowinginself-pitytonotice.
“Let’sfocusonyourparentsthisseason,andyoucanturnyoursightsonmenextyear,”Bobbysays,takingherarmtopull
herbacktowardtheirtent,whereAlbieandMereditharenowstandingattheedge.“Oh,look,they’reabouttostart.”
Gwendoesn’tlookattheboats.Instead,shestepsbacksoshecanwatchtheAshmondswatchtheirson.LordandLadyAshmond
standattheedgeoftheirtentalongwiththeirhangers-on,leavingBethandLadyDemerovenarowbehind,andlikelyunable
tosee.Gwennotesthatneitherlooksparticularlyputoutaboutthis.LadyDemeroven’sfanningherselflikeit’stheend
ofdays,andBeth—
BethlooksstraightatGwen.Sheoffersaslightsmileandthenturnstohermother.Gwenlooksbackattheriverjustas
thestartinggungoesoff.They’rewellandtrulyunderwayofthisridiculouscharade,andthere’snothingleftbuttosee
itthroughandhopeBobbycandeliver.
MontsonandJordanrowlikethere’snotomorrow.AsBobbypredicted,Leandereasilywinsthefirstmatch,outpacingtheLRC’s
scullbyatleastafulllength.HertentisgroaningbuttheAshmondsarecavorting.Shecanhearchampagnebeingpopped,
whoopsspillingthroughtheair.
“Yeah,let’sseeiftheycandoitagain,”Bobbysaysloudly,nudgingAlbienexttohim.“Beginners’luck.”
AlbiestaresathisbrotherforamomentandGwenwatchesthemexchangeaseriesofnodsandsmallgestures.She’sneverpaid
muchattentiontotheirrelationship.Bobby’sneverbeenmuchmorethananuisance,butnow—nowitseemshe’sslyandclever
andpersuasive.
“Jordancan’tmakeanotherround,andI’dbesurprisedifMontson’snotkeelingoveralready,”Albieadds,hisvoiceechoing
acrossthewater.
SheglancesoverandspotsLordAshmondfrowningatthem.“Idon’tknow,theywonbyafulllength,”Gwensays,hervoice
lightandeasy,butlouderthanperhapsitshouldbe.
ShehearsLadyDemerovenagreeingandhastohideasmile.GwenglancesoveratthemandBethstaresbackather,perplexed.
“Tworowerssimplyfillingin—there’snowayLeandermakesitanotherround,”Bobbysaysquickly.
“TheLRC’sgotthislockedup.Youwaitandsee,”Albieadds.
LordAshmondscoffsabsurdlyloudlyandbothboysleanaroundGwentomakeeyecontact.
“Youdon’tagree?”Bobbycallsover.
“Well,hisson’sracing.He’sboundtobebiased,”Albiesays,smilingaffablyatLordAshmond.
“Iamnosuchthing,”LordAshmondexclaims.
BobbystepsaroundGwenandAlbiesqueezesherwaistashefollows,thetwoofthembeginningatiradeofchallengesandstatistics
thatLordAshmondmeetswithglee.Shesupposesbestingherfather’snephewswillonlyaddtohissanctimoniousdisdain.Make
himfeeltall.
Shewondersifhe’spoorlyendowed.Whatelsecouldmakeamansorichthispompous?
“Whataretheyupto?”Meredithasks,steppinguptoGwen’ssideastheargumentescalates,justasBobbypredicteditwould.
“Havetheyhadmuchtodrink?”Gwenasks,goingforinnocent.
“NomorethanyouorI,seeingasit’snotevennoon,”Meredithsaysflatly.“Ohdear.”
BobbyhassteppedintoLordAshmond’sspace,thetwoofthemnearlychesttochest.Ofcourse,LordAshmondtowersoverBobby.
HelooksabsurdlychildishsquaredoffthatwayandGwenfeelsherbubbleofexcitementdeflatingintoanxiety.
Fathermayactuallyhavetostepin.
Sheglancesaroundandfindshimalreadymovingtowardher,hiseyesontheescalatingaltercation.LadyAshmond’swringing
herhandsandGwennoticesafewoldergentlemenmovingtowardthecluster,astallandintimidatingasLordAshmond,and
possiblylessconcernedwithappearances.
Shemayhavejustaidedandabettedabrawl.
“Whatareyourcousinsdoing?”FatherasksashereachesGwen.
“I’mreallynotsure,”shesayshonestly,watchingAlbiebraceBobbyfrombehind.LordAshmondleansdown,spillingvitriol
abouttheboys’fatherandhowAshmondusedtotrouncebothViscountMasonandFatherinscullracingwhentheywerelads.
Asifanyofthemcoulddodamageinaboatthesedays.
“Soditall,”Fathersays,startingforwardjustasLadyDemerovendragsBethoutfromthetent,thetwoofthemstepping
backcarefullyintothesun.OneofLordAshmond’smenknocksoverachair.
“Father,don’tmakea—”Gwenstarts,buthe’salreadystridingacrossthesmallgapoflawnbetweenthetents.
Gwenfollowsafter,nolongerconcernedwiththeirplan.LordAshmond’sjustpushedBobbyintoAlbie,andtheboysarebuilding
uptowardfisticuffs.Shehastostopthis.
Shetakesanotherstepforwardonlyforahandtocloseoverherwrist.
“Don’t.”Gwenturns,surprised,andLadyDemerovenslidesherhanduptotakeGwen’sarm.“Youdon’twantablackeye,and
noneofthemcantakethescandalofaccidentallyknockingyouone,”shesayslowly.
Bethstepsuponherotherside.Gwenglancesather,bothofthemwide-eyed.IttakesheramomentbeforesheturnstoLady
Demeroven.
“Shouldyoubestandingwithme?”sheasks,tooanxiousandoverwhelmedtofindasubtlerwaytoask.
“Yourfatherisabouttodefendyourcousinsfromthatclod.Noonewillblamemeforwatchingoveryouinhissteadright
now.”
ShegivesGwenatightsmile,thoughGwencanfeelthetensioninherframefromtheviseofherarm.
“Okay,”Gwenwhispers.
Bethtakesherotherhand,thetangleoftheirfingershiddenbytheirbumpingskirts.
“WhatpossessedBobby?”sheasksastheywatchLordAshmond’sfriendstryingtostepbetweentheboysandLordAshmond.
Father’svisiblyrestrainingAlbie,who’syellingobscenitiesthatLordAshmondisspittingrightback.
“Walkitoff,LordAshmond,”FathershoutsashewrestlesAlbiebehindhimselfandstepsup,wrappinganarmaroundBobby’storsotoholdhimback.“Yoursonwillbeinanotherraceinminutes,we’llreturntoourtents,letcalmerheadsprevail.”
“Soyoucankeepbribinghonorablemenintoyourheathenschemes?Ithinknot,”LordAshmondshootsback,pressingforward.
FathersidestepsandpushesBobbyoutoftheway.GwengaspsasheandLordAshmondpresschesttochest.WithFather,it’s
anevenmatch.
“Yourmangynephewshavenobusinesshere,”LordAshmondspits.
“They’veasmuchrightasanyone.It’syouwho’sturnedasportingbetintoafight.”
GwenwatchesinhorrorasAlbiepullsBobbyback.LordAshmond’smen—othersfromtheHouseofLords—encircleFatherandLord
Ashmond.
“He’sgoingtoenduponthefloor,”LadyDemerovenmutters.
Gwenbristles.“Fathercanhandlehimself.”
“LordAshmond,”LadyDemerovenclarifies.“Yourfatherhasameanleft—”
CRACK.FatherthrowsapunchthatspinsLordAshmondintothechairs,sendinghimtopplingheadfirstintothegrass.Lady
Ashmondshrieksindismay.BobbyandAlbierushbackintorestrainFatherastheotherLordsgape.
“Gobacktoyourbetting,”FatherspitsoutasLadyAshmondattemptstohelpherhusbandup.
Buthedoesn’tneedthehelp.Inablink,LordAshmondhasrisenfromthechairsandlaunchedhimselfatFather.Thetwogodowninaflurryoffistsandlinens,rollingonthegrassliketwocommonurchins.Bothsideshurrytotrytoprythemapart.BethsqueezesGwen’shandsohardithurtsandLadyDemerovenholdsherbackwhenGwengoestosurgeforward.
Thisisherfault.He’sinthisfightbecauseofher.Shehastostopit—
TheLordsmanagetopullLordAshmondoffFather,butnotbeforetheyeachgetonemorepunchin.LordAshmondclutchesat
hisjawasthemenforcehimaway,hiswifecaterwaulingafterthem.BobbyandAlbiehelpFatheroffthegroundandeverything
goesquiet.
Shecandistantlyseeanotherraceunderway,knowsthecommonersontheriverhavebeenwatching,canalmostheartheirown
tenttittering.TheAshmondtenthasentirelyclearedout.Shedoesn’tknowwherethey’vetakenLordAshmond,butshehopes
it’ssomewheretobedousedincoldwater,thelout.
“Father,”Gwenexclaims.
LadyDemerovenfinallyloosenshergripandGwenrushesforward,draggingBethwithher.Fatherturnsandregardsthem,squinting.
Hiswhitesuitisstainedgreen,andshecantellhe’llhavealividbruiseandswolleneyetomorrow,butotherwisehelooks
remarkablyunscathed.
“Youalwayscouldtakeapunch,”LadyDemerovensays.ShecomesupbehindGwen,placingahandonherwaist.
Fatherrollshiseyes,testinghisjawandbrushingoffAlbie’ssupportivearm.“Andyoualwayscouldpicktherottenestof
thebunch,”hereturns.
Gwenwinces,butLadyDemerovensimplypullsalacekerchieffromherskirts,steppinguptodabatatrickleofbloodthat’s
makingitswaydownFather’sface.LordAshmondmusthavenickedhimwitharing.
“Whatwereyouthinking?”LadyDemerovenasks.BethstepsclosetoGwen,hidingtheirhandsamidtheirskirtsastheyglanceateachother.
“You’dratherIletthatmanhitmynephew?”Fatherasks,makingnomovetostopherministrations.“Shouldyoubedoingthis?”
LadyDemerovenstillsforamomentbeforeshrugging.“Idoubtthiswillbethemostexcitingpartofthestory.Boys,goget
somecoldwater,”sheinstructs,leaningaroundFathertolookfirmlyatBobbyandAlbie.
Theboysjoltintoaction,slippingoffintothetent.
“Areyoustayingthenighthere?”LadyDemerovenasks.
“Wetookthetrain,”Fathersays,gentlytakingthehandkerchieffromhertopressithardagainsthistemple.
GwenwatchesasLadyDemerovenhoversclose,ahandonhischestforalongmomentbeforeshestepsback.“You’llwantto
getasteakfromtheinnbeforeyouheadback.”
“Yes,I’llcertainlylookasightbesideGwenthen,”hesays,chuckling.“Violenceisnevertheanswer,”headds,looking
atGwenandBeth.
“Fatlotofgoodthatadvicehasdoneyou,”Gwensays,thewordsslippingout.
Fathermerelylaughs.“I’mjustfine.Though,MissDemeroven,Isupposeyoushouldwatchtherestoftherace,cheeronyour
intended,ashisparents—”
TheyallglanceintotheAshmondtent,utterlyempty.
“Yes,someoneshouldsupportLordMontson,Iguess,”LadyDemerovenagrees.“Girls,whydon’tyoujoin—LadyMeredith,isn’t
it?”
“Yes.”BethstartlesasMeredithappearsbesidethem.“We’dbehappytohaveMissDemerovenwithusforafewhoursifyou’dliketo,um,seetothings,LadyDemeroven?”Meredithoffers.
“Thankyou,dear,”LadyDemerovensayskindly.“Walkmetotheboathouse?”sheasksFather.
“Areyousurethat’swise?”Fatherasks.
“I’msimplymakingsureyouaren’tgoingtoinvolvetheauthorities.Hemadethefirstmoveagainstyournephew.I’msmoothing
thingsover,”LadyDemerovensaysarchly.
Fatherjustshakeshishead.“Allright.Gwen,takegoodcareofMissDemeroven.We’llbeback,”hesays,gesturingforLady
Demeroventoprecedehim.
GwenwatchesastheymovethroughtheemptyAshmondtentandoutofsight,walkingclosebutunconnected.Holyhell—
“Didthatactuallywork?”Meredithasks.
GwengapesatMeredith.
“Didwhatwork?”Bethasks.
“Oh,ittookalloftwosecondstorealizeBobbywasuptosomething.Comeon,Icoulduseadrink.”
ShetakesGwen’sfreearmandstridesbacktowardthetent,forcingGwentotugBethalongbehindher.
“Didyouplanthat?”Bethhissesastheyclusterbackunderthetent.
Theyhuddlebytherefreshments,farfromAlbieandBobby.Theboysarepreeningundertheattentionoftheirschoolmates.
Beyondthem,thenextheatlinesupontheriver.Gwencouldn’tpossiblycarelessabouttherace.
“No,”GwentellsBeth.Meredithquirksaneyebrowandpassesthemeachafluteofchampagne.“Well,not—notlikethat.BobbythoughthecoulddistractLordAshmondandwe’dgetyourmothertofaint,likeweplanned,”shetellsBeth,deflatingatherflatlook.“Itmadesenseatthetime.”
“WhocouldhaveknownLordAshmondwouldgetthatdrunkthisearlyintheday,”Meredithsays,shrugging.
“Hecouldhavebeenbadlyhurt,”Bethsayssoftly.
“Fatherwouldn’tinjurehimtoobadly,”Gwenprotests.
“Yourfather,”Bethcorrects.“OrBobby,orAlbie.Ididn’t—whydidyouinvolvetheminthis?”sheasks,partshock,part
indignation.
“Itwasn’tintentional,”Gwencutsback.
“It’snotasifyouwerebeingparticularlysubtleaboutit,”Meredithadds.“Thetwoofyouglancingateachotherevery
minute.Itwasclearsomethingwasafoot.”
GwenwincesandBethsighs.Meredithlaughsatthemboth.
“Doyouthinkourparentsknew?”Bethasks.
“Oh,no,”Meredithsaysquickly.“They’reshockinglyoblivioustoeverythingbutthepoliticsrightnow,andthoughitwasn’t
agoodplan,yourmotherdidlookhalfwaytoafaintingspellforawhiletherebeforethefight.”
“AtleastIcanstopforcingdrinksonher,”Bethsays,shakingherheadasshetakesasipofchampagne.
“Sheseemedremarkablytogetherafterthefight,”Gwennotes,glancingoverattheAshmondtent.NosignoftheAshmondsor
theirparents.
“Oh,she’sgoodinacrisis,”Bethsays,wavingitoff.“Idowishwecouldseewheretheywent.Hardtoknowournextsteps
withthemoutofsight.”
“Hardtoknowhowthey’reavoidingtheAshmonds.Ican’timaginethiswillmaketheearlanymoreinclinedtoletthetwoofyouseeeachother,”Meredithsays,lookingbetweenthem.
Gwencocksherhead.BethglancesatherandthenlooksbackatMeredith.“What…exactlydoyouthinkwe’retryingto
do?”
Meredithconsidersthemandthenlooksbackattheclusterofboys.GwennotesthatalloftheLordshavedisappearedaswell.
Shewondersifthetwocampsareelsewhere,planningpoliticalmachinationsinlightoftheHavenfort/Ashmondbrawl,asshe’s
sureitwillcometobeknown.
“BasedonthelittleI’veheardfromAlbie,you’retryingtomatchupyourparents.I’mentirelyunclearonthemotivation.”
GwenglancesatBeth,who’ssimplystaringatMeredith.
“That’s…yes.Wejustthinktheycouldbehappytogether,”Gwenoffers.
“Andprovideyousomeleewayinfindingmarriagesyourselves,Iexpect,thoughyou’veleftitalittlelate,Beth,toget
outofthisone.”
“Iknow,”Bethsayssoftly.
“Doyoureallywantto?IknowLordAshmondisanunmitigatedarse,butLordMontsonseemssweetenough,andhedoeslike
youverymuch.”
“Iknow,”Bethrepeats.GwenswallowshardasBethraisestheirhandsforMeredithtosee.“ButLordMontsonisn’twhoI’d
liketospendmylifewith.Andmymotherwillbemiserable,muchasshekeepsinsistingit’sbestforusboth.”
“Oh,”Meredithsayssoftlybeforeglancingaroundthetentagain.
Butnoone’spayingthemanymind.Allofthemenareeagerlywatchingtheraces.BethshouldprobablybecheeringforMontson,butGwenwon’tgiveherup.Won’tpullheraway.Won’tshyawayfromthelookMeredithgivesthemasshereturnshergaze,softandunderstanding.
“Isee.”
“Ifourparentsmarry,itwillmeanwecan…doawaywithcharadesandthemarriagemarket.Andthey’llbehappy,”Beth
addsdesperately.“Ifwethoughttheyweregoingtobemiserable,wewouldn’ttry.”
“Wealmostdidn’t,”Gwensays,squeezingBeth’shand.“Butthey’vebothbeennearlyasheartbrokenaswehave,andifthere’s
achanceforeveryonetohave…”Shetrailsoff,can’tquitearticulateit.
“Foreveryonetogetahappily-ever-after,Iunderstand,”Meredithsays,hersmilegrowing.“Well.Ithinkwe’regoingto
havetomeetaboutmyweddingmuchmoreoften.”
“What?”Gwensays,inelegant.She’dratherhaveanicepicktotheeye.
“BethandIarejustgoingtohavetomeettocomparenotes.Andhermotherwillhavetocome.AndtheMasonhousehasbeen
havingterriblemoldissues,haven’tyouheard?Sowe’llhavetomeetatmine.Andasyourfatherisprovidingsomeofthe
fundingandworkingwithAlbie’suncletoshoreupthevote,Iimaginehe’llhavetocomealong.Andwe’llsimplyneedto
picnic,won’twe?”Meredithsays.
“YoureallyoughttohaveconsultedMerefromtheoutset,”Albiesaysashestepsupbehindthem.“She’sthemostdevious
ofallofus,andthat’ssayingsomething.”
HeglancesattheirhandsandGwenslowlytugsBeth’stangledfingersdownbetweentheirskirts,smilingatherandthenatAlbie.Sheneversaiditplain,butthey’vebothjustknown.He’sbeenhercompanionfornearlyadecadethroughallofthisnonsense.Sheshouldhavejusttoldthem.
“Areyouallright?”BethasksasAlbiestepsaroundthemtostandbesideMeredith,takingherhandthewayBethhasGwen’s.
“I’mjustfine.Bobby’smanofthehournow.AndIthinkyourfatherwillbefine.IspottedhimsittingonabenchwithLady
Demerovenbehindtheboathouse.Shefoundhimasteakforhiseye.”
“Good,”Gwensays,tensionleakingoutofher.
“SoIhearwe’llbeseeingyouinafewdays?”Albieasks,winkingatBeth.
Bethhasthegumptiontowinkback,herhandsqueezingGwen’s.Perhapsallisnotlost,eveniftodaywasutterchaos.
“Ithinkyoujustmight,”Bethsaysgamely.ChapterTwenty-FiveBeth
Meredith,Bobby,andAlbieareaforcetobereckonedwith.Bethwatchesinaweastheyexpertlymaneuvertheirrespective
relatives.MeredithpairsoffhermotherwithAlbie’saunt.BobbyandAlbiedragtheiruncleawaytodiscusstheorderof
thegroomsmen.AndthenMeredithswoopsbackintopullBethandGwenintoconversationsoartfullythatMotherandLordHavenfort
arealmostrequiredtoatleastexchangepleasantries.
TheHarringtonsaren’tpersonaenongrataetoLordAshmond,buttheMasonssurelyare.Thesevisitsarearisk,butthey’re
chancesMotherseemseagertotake.Their“accidental”picnicatthebotanicalgardenswithMeredith,Albie,Gwen,andLord
Havenfortlastweekwasathoroughdelight,andMotherreadilyagreedtocometaketeatoday.Beth’shopesarerisingfast,
aswellasherchagrin.
“Doesallthismakeyoufeelexceedinglyunclever?”GwenwhispersasMeredithpoursthemtea,goingonloudlyaboutdress
hems.
“Painfully,”Bethagrees.
She’sspentthelastmonthandahalfpracticallygluedtoLordMontson’sside,andallthistime,ifthey’djustaskedGwen’scousins,theycouldhavebeenhavingteasandlisteningtoeveryonelaugh.It’salmostenoughtomakehervomit.
HermotherandLordHavenfortarechattingbytheopenwindowtoday,ashadetooclosetogether.LordHavenfort’seyeisstill
slightlypurple,butMotherdoesn’tseemtomind.She’slaughing,actually.It’shergenuinelaughtoo—asoundBeth’sbarely
heardinamonth.
“Haveyoupickedoutadressyet?”Meredithasks,bringingBeth’sgazebacktoher.
“What?”shemumbles.
Meredithchuckles.“Adress.Youmusthaveoneatleastinprocess.”
“Mymother’sweddingdress,”Bethsaysabsently.“They’retakingitinaroundthebustandremovingthesleeves.”Shepauses,
glancingatGwen.
“Ibetyoulookquitebeautiful,”Gwensays,smilingsoftlyather.
They’veallowedthemselvesmorethanonequietminuteofpeacethisafternoon,sittingclosetogether,handstangledintheir
skirts.Beth’smindkeepswandering,visionsofthetwoofthemsneakingoffintothiscavernoustownhousetofindsomewhere—some
darkcorner—wheretheycouldslidebeneatheachother’sskirtsand—
“Beth,”Gwensays,laughingalittle.
“Oh,yes.Right.Itdoeslooknice,”Bethagrees.“Nothinglikeitlookedonmymother.Fatherinsistedshewearitfortheir
portraitandshelooksamazing.Ilooklikeaflatlittlefrump.”
“Youabsolutelydonot,”MothersaysassheandLordHavenfortappeararoundtheirsideofthetable.
Bethlooksupathermother—heralwayspoised,alwaysglamorousmother.“Idon’tlookhalfsobeautifulasyoudid,”Bethsays.
Motherrollshereyes.Butshelookssorelaxedandhappy.Theyhavetomakethiswork;Bethwouldtryjustforthelookon
hermother’sface.
“Youarebeautifulinentirelyyourownway,”Motherargues.
“I’msureyoulookverylovely,”LordHavenfortadds.“You’rehavingitdonebyMistressGrinley,Iassume?”
“Ofcourse,”Mothersaysquickly.“OnlytheverybestforBeth.”
Bethforcesherselftomaintainhersmile.It’scostingthemafortunetousethemostexpensivemodisteinLondonforthe
alterations,foraweddingshe’sratherhopingshewon’tbeattending.They’redowntoaphantomstaff,poorMissWilson’s
workingherselfbloody,andforwhat?
Gwensqueezesherhandandsheblowsoutabreath,pretendingnottoworry.Iftheypullthisoff—andtheirparentsdolook
rathercozy—theHavenfortshavemorethanenoughtoreimburseMotherfortheexpense.
“Remindmeoftheweddingdate?”LordHavenfortprompts.
“Eightdaysfromtoday,”Motherreplies,tensionreturningtoherpostureasBethslumpsinherseat.“Infact,weprobably
shouldgo,Beth.TheAshmondsareexpectingusfordinner,andwe’llneedtochange.”
“Oh,butwe’vejustpouredtea,”Meredithsaysquickly.“Couldwefinish?LordHavenfort,perhapsyoucouldshowLadyDemeroven
thegardens?TherosestherewouldmakesuchalovelybouquetforBeth.”
BethholdsherbreathasbothMotherandLordHavenfortconsiderMeredith’ssuggestion.It’sforward,butnotglaringlyso.AndMotherdoesloveflowers.It’soneofhergreaterregrets,thattheyhaven’tspentenoughtimeinLondontocultivateagarden.TheonesattheDemerovenestateupnortharesplendid.Mothersometimesevenworksthemherself.
“Isuppose,”Mothersaysslowly.“Foranothertwentyminutes.Ifyoudon’tmind,LordHavenfort.”
“Notatall,”Gwen’sfathersays,offeringhisarm.“I’mgreatwithflowers.”
“Iremember,”Mothersays,quitewithoutthinkinggiventhewayhereyeswiden.
ButLordHavenfortjustchucklesandleadsherfromtheroom.BethblowsoutabreathandGwenslouchesinherseat.
“Well?”Meredithsays.
“Wellwhat?”GwenasksasshestrokesBeth’spalm.
“Gotothewindow.Mygoodness,you’rebothdreadfulatthis.”
Gwensnortsandstands,pullingBethupandthentakingherarmtoguidehertowardthewindow.Bethfansherselfasifshe
simplymustgetsomeair.Meredithimmediatelyjoinsinonhermother’sconversation.Albie,Bobby,andtheirunclearefar
tooimmersedinwhatsoundslikeracingbetstocarewhatBethandGwengetupto.
GwentugsBethuptothelargepicturewindowwheretheirparentsstoodsomeminutesago,andtogethertheylookdownatthe
lovelybackgardens.They’reevenmoreresplendentfromabove.Thoughinfairness,thelasttimeBethsawthem,shewastoo
busykissingGwen’sbrainsoutbeforebreakingbothoftheirheartstocarefortheflorals.
Bethspotstheirparents,chattingtogetheronastonebenchbeneathaleafygreentree.Shecan’tquiteseetheirfaces.
“Doyouthinkit’sworking?”Gwenwonders.
Bethforcesherselftosmiledespitetheirdwindlingtimeline.“They’renotfighting.”
“Theyweren’tfightingbeforeyoudumpeduseither,”Gwencounters.
“Wedidn’t—”BethlooksupandfindsGwensmirkingdownather.“Shutup.Theywere…morethanfriendlythen,butIdon’t
knowthatthat’senough.Motherwillbethrowingawayasurestatusmatch.”
Gwensighs.“AndFather’sgun-shy.”
BethwatchesasGwenleansagainstthewindowsill.Shelooksbeautifulinthesunlightthatanglesthroughthewindow,whisps
ofherblondhairsurroundingherlikeahalo.
“We’lljusthavetopushthem,”Bethsays,rallyingherresolve.
“Right.Shovethem,morelike,”Gwenagrees.
“Youthinkifwethrewthembothdownthestairs,wecouldlockthemuptogethertoheal?”Bethwonders,smilingasGwensnorts.
Sheglancesbackdownattheirparents.ButLordHavenfortisalonenow.
“Beth,timetoleave.”
BethsighsandturnstofindhermotherinthedoorwaytotheHarringtons’library.Gwenquicklysqueezesherarmbeforestepping
aroundhertogojoinMeredith.They’vedonealltheycan.ThisisallsheandGwenget.Ameaslytwohoursandmiddlingprogress,
ifany,intheirefforts.
“Comealong,dear,”Motherprompts,andBethnods,forcingherselfacrosstheroomtocurtsypolitelytoLadyHarringtonbefore
followingMotherout.
“DidyouandLordHavenforthaveagoodchat?”sheasks.Theytaketheirbonnetsfromthedoormanandstepintothelateafternoonsunfortheirwaitingcarriage.
Everything’ssoprecisenow.Carriagesalwayswaiting,schedulealwaysfull.Shemissestheemptinessoftheirlifeinthe
country.Hell,eventhefirstfewweeksoftheseasonweremorerelaxing,whentheyattendedeveryeventinsight.Therewasn’t
thispressure.
Therewasn’tthissadness,ismorelikeit.Shecouldhandlethebowingandscrapinganddressesandtulleifeverysingle
momentdidn’tremindherofwhatshe’dlost.AndifMothereverseemedevenatenthascheerfulwhenthey’rewiththeAshmonds
asshedidinthelibrarytoday.
Motherlooksbackather,eyebrowraised,beforesheletsherselfbehandedintothecoach.Bethfollowsbehind,castingone
longingglanceattheupstairswindowbeforethefootmanshutsthecoachdoor.
ShewatchestheHarringtontownhousedriftaway,thecarriageswayingbeneaththemastheybegintheshortdrivehome.
“Well?”Bethprompts.
“Wellwhat?”Motherasks,pullingoffherglovestoexaminehernails.
“DidyouandLordHavenforthaveagoodchatinthegardens?”Bethrepeats.
“Itwasfine,”Mothersays,shruggingandrefusingtomeetBeth’seyes.
“Whatdidyoutalkabout?”
“Thisandthat.”
Bethhuffsandadjustsherskirtsoshecanslouchagainstthecarriageseat.“Expansive.”
“Idon’tknow,darling.Wejust…chatted.Aboutyou,aboutthewedding,aboutLadyGwen.We’re…friendly.”
“Friendly,”Bethrepeats.“That’showyou’ddescribeit?You’resmiling.You’vebarelysmiledatallinthepastmonth.”
MotherblinksandBethbitesatherlip.She’smeanttobegoingaboutthiswithmoretact.Butfriendly?Theyaresomuchmorethanfriendly,andMother’snotanevasivewoman.Shecallsaspadeaspade.Whymusttheyobfuscate
andtiptoearoundthis?
“Ihaven’tseenyousmilelikethisinweekseither,”Mothercounters.
“Isthatsuchasurprise?”Bethwonders.“Aren’tyoumiserable?I’mmiserable.”
“Yes,you’vemadethatratherplain,”Mothersaysdryly.
Bethfrownsoverather,waitingformore.SheneedsMothertoadmitthatit’sterrible—thisloveless,thanklessmatchthey’ve
found.Advantageous,yes,butdreadful.
“Iwilladmitit’sbeentrying.AndIenjoyedthese…clandestineopportunitiestobearoundlike-mindedpeople.Butyou
knowthiscannotbefrequent.We’redancingontheheadofapinsimplyseeingLadyMeredith.”
“Well,shedidsetupthatcaketasting.We’llhavetocomeforthat,sincewehaven’tsentforacakeyet,andweare,as
yousaid,almostaweekfromthegrandwedding,”Bethsaysquickly.Motherrollshereyes.“Comeon,youwanttobeatthe
Harringtoncaketasting.It’stheonlyfunpartofthishorribleplanning.”
“Yes,well,thereyou’reright,”Motherallows,smiling.“IdothinkthisrusecanprobablycarryyouandLadyGwenthroughonceyou’remarried.You’llhavetovisitLadyMeredith,andshe’llhavetovisitMr.Mason.You’llfindopportunitiestoseeeachother.”
“What,onceyearlyinthecountryandthenatthesegroupeventsduringtheseason,ifwe’reevenhere?”Bethwonders,indignation
risingathermother’scasualtone,likeit’spurelysocial.
“That’showfriendshipworksonceyou’remarried,darling,”Mothersays,herfacecarefullyflat.
Bethclenchesherjaw.“She’snotmyfriend,”sheinsists,staringMotherdown.
Butherexpressiondoesn’tchange—blankandserene,asifBeth’swordsareslidingdownarainywindow,impervioustoeverything
without.
“You’llgettoseeher.Isn’tthatwhatmatters?”
Bethseethes.“Yes,seeingthepersonIholddearestintheworldafewdaysayearmakeseverythingbetter.Spendingthe
restofforeverwiththeAshmondsnowfeelsthoroughlytolerable.”
“Youwillgrowtolikethemmoreovertime.”
MotherlooksoutthewindowandBethballsherfists.Sheknowsthatdeepdown,somewhereMotherrefusestoreach,she’sjust
asdevastatedasBethis—wantsoutjustasmuchasshedoes.Shejusthastogethertoadmittoit.
“They’rehorrible,”Bethinsists.“Concedethatmuchtome.Itmaybethematchofyourdreams,butLordAshmondisabrute.
Anoaf.”
Motherturnsbacktoher,bitingatherlowerlipforamoment.Sheopenshermouth,butthenthecarriagehitsthecurboutside
oftheirtownhouse.
“Comealong,dear.Wemustdressfordinner.”
“Youagreewithme,”Bethinsists,hurryingoutafterher.Shekeepspacewithherskirtshikedup,lessgracefulbutjustasfastashermother.
“Let’sfocusongettingready.MissWilsonwillsettleyoufirstwhileIdomymakeup.”
“Webothlookperfectlyfine,”BethprotestsasMotherunlocksthefrontdoorandtheystompinside,blinkinginthedim,
emptyfoyer.
“WecannotarriveattheAshmonds’inwhatwe’veworntotea,andyouneedatleastanothertwolayersonyourskirt.”
“Why?”Bethasks,standingstillevenasMothercontinuestowardthestairs.Shefeelshercomposureslipping.“Whymustwe
continuethischarade?”
“Itisnotacharade,”Motherdismisses,ahandontherailing.
“Mother,”Bethexclaims.
Motherturnsslowly,thefoyerbetweenthem.“Ifthelacebothersyousomuch,we’llfindanothermodiste.”
“Itisn’taboutthelace.”
“Iknowyouwouldpreferto…seeyourfriendmore,butwe’vefoundacompromise.Whycan’tyoubesatisfiedwiththat?”
RageslipsupBeth’sthroat,constrictingherlungs.“Gwenisnot—”
“That’sallshecanbe,”Mothersays.
Bethfeelsthewordslikeablowtoherstomach.It’snotthatMotherwon’tacknowledgeit.It’sthatshecan’tevenimagine
aworldwhereBethandGwencouldbetogether.
“Iknowitisn’tfair,butwewillfindwaysforyoutoseeeachother.Andsomedayitwillbemorethanenough.You’llsee.
Thesefeelingsfade.Youlearntolivewithcompromise.”
Likeit’seasy.Likelivinginapurgatorystateofsadnessisnothing.
Motherwaitsforsomesmartrejoinder,butBethdoesn’thaveone.OfcourseMother’sfinewithcompromise.It’sallshe’s
everknown.ButBeth—Bethwantssomuchmorethanempty,ashencompromise,forbothofthem.Thishalflifewillneverbeenough.
“Ican’tdothis.I’mnotyou”fallsoutofhermouthbeforeshecanthinktostopthewords.
“Excuseme?”Mothersays.
Itfeelslikesomethinghascrackedinsideherchest,allherhurtsurgingforward.“Thebowingandscrapingandbendingourselves
toLordAshmond’sviewsoneverything.Givingupourpolitics.GivingupGwenandLordHavenfort—”Herbreathhitches.“We
aregivingupeverythingforthem.AndthewayLordAshmondtalkstoyou—thewayyoulethimtalktoyou—it’slike—”Shebreaksoff,swallowingherwordsasMothernarrowshereyes.
“It’slikewhat,Elizabeth?”Motherasks,hervoicesharpnow.
Bethstraightensherback.Thiswasn’tpartoftheplan,butsomeoneneedstosayit.“It’slikehe’sFather,alloveragain.
Youagreewitheverythinghesays,evenwhenIknowyoudon’t.Youlaughlikehe’sfunny.Andyoulethimtalkdowntoyou
allthetime,likeyou’reunworthyofhisconsiderationandshouldsimplybegratefulhelooksonyouatall.”
Thesilencethatfollowsbrimswitheveryunkindthingthat’severbeensaidinthishouse,everyslight,everyfightand
uglymoment.Andallofthewaysneitherofthemevermadeamovetostopthem,neverstoodupforthemselves,neverfought
Father.Theywouldn’thavewon,Bethknowsthat.Buttheycannow.
Theydon’thavetosubmittorepeatingthefuturelikeit’sinevitable.
“Idon’twantustolivelikethis.AndIknowyoudon’twanttoeither.Youcan’tpossiblywanttolivelikethisagain.
Please,Mother,ifyoujustspokewithLordHavenfort,lethimprovetoyouthat—”
“Enough!”Motheryells.“Youdonotgettohaveeverythingyouwantinlife.”Hervoiceissuddenlylowandcold,noteven
allowingforthebarestpossibilityofanotherway.“You’llhaveamanorandahusbandandafortuneforgenerations.That
ismorethananyonecanhopefor.”
“It’snot,”Bethinsists.
“Beth.”
“Icanhopeformore,”Bethsays,hervoiceroughasthetearsfinallyfall,asangergiveswaytodesperation.“Youshould
hopeformore.”
Theystandstaringateachother,BethbeggingforhermothertovalueherownlifeasmuchasshevaluesBeth’ssecurity.
Totakeachanceontheirhappinessbeingworthsomething
Motherjustshakesherhead.“IhaveallI’vehopedfor.I’mgoingtoliedown.MissWilsonwillhelpyoudressfordinner.”
Sheturnsandheadsupthestairs,shoulderscurledinward,defeated,unwillingtohopeorwantorlisten.
Beth’sheartclenchesinherchest.“Mother,”shecalls.
ButMotherdoesn’trespond.Bethstandsinthecompletelyemptyfoyer,hervoiceechoingthroughthehouse,allthehurtdrifting
throughtheairaroundher.
ChapterTwenty-SixGwen
“Good,you’rehere,”Meredithsays,pullingGwenthroughthedoorbeforesheevenknocks.
“What’sgoingon?”Gwenasks,takinginhertightfaceandplaindress.
Meredith’snotoutfittedforanythingpublicfacing,muchlesshostingasurpriseearlybreakfastformothersanddaughters.
Shelookslikeshejustwokeup.
ThatknotofworryatthetopofGwen’sstomachtwistseventighter.IfMeredithisn’tactuallyhostingteathismorning,
thenGwen’snotgoingtoseeBethtoday.It’sbeendayssincethey’vehadamomenttogether,longerstillsincethey’vemanaged
tohavetheirparentsatthesameevent.Theweddingisalmosthere,andnowshewon’tevengettostrategizewithBeth.It’s
timeforalast-ditch,desperateeffort.Butshecan’tplanthatallbyherself.They’refarbeyondherslapdashplansnow.
“Comeon,”Meredithsays,steeringGwendowntheservant’shallwayandthroughthekitchen.
“HaveyouheardanythingfromBeth?Mrs.StelmsaidshegaveMissWilsonmylastletter,butBethhasn’trepliedyet,”Gwen
says,tryingtotalkandsimultaneouslynavigateherhoopthroughthenarrowhalls.
Theservantspaythemnomindastheypass,likeMeredithmustdothiseveryday.ButthesilenceisgratingonGwen.She’sanxiousenoughwithoutMeredithmakingamysteryofthings.
“Meredith,wouldyoupleasejust—”
“Here.Youhavetwentyminutes,”Meredithsayscryptically,yankingGwentoahalt.
SheopensanarrowdoorandshovesGweninsidebeforeshecansomuchasspeak.Gwenturns,mouthopen,butMeredithshuts
thedooronher.Gwensighsandrevolves,takinginthesmallsinglebedroomwithonehighwindowatstreetlevel.It’sdim,
andcramped,andthereinthemiddlestandsBethinherhousefrock,hairstillbraidedfromsleep.
Gwen’schestclenchesasBethcomesforher,shovingherskirttothesidesoshecanarchupandwrapherarmsaroundGwen.
Shepressesintoher,facetuckedintoherneck.
“Ijustwantedtoseeyouonemoretime,”Bethwhispers,pullingbackonlytoriseintoakissthatmakesGwenstumbleback
intothedoor,handsgrippingatBeth’swaisttosteadythemboth.
“ThiswastheonlytimeI’mnotscheduledtobeattheAshmonds’,”Bethsayswhentheybreakapartminuteslater,lipsswollen,
hairmussed,andcheekspink.HerhandscradleGwen’sjawastheyleanbackagainstthedoor.“Mother’sstillsleeping.She
won’ttalktomeanymore.Ican’tconvinceher,Ican’tmakeherunderstand,andIdon’tthink—”Shepauses,surgingforward
intoanotherkiss.
AndGwenletsher,slidingherhandsbacktosplayoverBeth’snarrowshoulders,clutchingherclose.Thisisitthen.LadyDemeroven’smadeherchoice.Theweddingisinthreedays.Theirsecondattempthasfailed,thwartedbypoliticsandgreedandfear.ShehastosurrenderBethtoherunhappymarriagesosheandhermotherhavesomewheretolive,moneytoprovideforthem,security.
ShelosesherselfinBeth’skiss,clutchingatherback.Gwenhasalifetimetogrieve.Butrightnow,theyhaveonlythese
twentyminutesinthislittleroom.Theirlasttwentyminutes.Shewon’twasteamomentofit.
“Here,”shewhispersasBethbreaksawaytopresskissesdownherneck.Shegentlystepsforward,pushingBethintothemiddle
oftheroomuntilshecanspinaround.“Getmeoutofthisthing.”
Bethhumsandtogethertheymakethequickestworktheycanofpullingoffherbodiceandskirt,throwingoffherpetticoat
andhoop.ThenshecanturnandtackleBethontothelittlebed.Thentheycanslidehandsupunderskirtsanddowncorsets,
unlacinguntilthey’reamessofhalf-wornclothesandskinandkisses,gaspingagainsteachotherforwhatfeelslikeasmall
eternity.
Thisishowshe’llrememberBeth,brightcheekedandpantingbeneathheronasmall,narrowbed—hairfrayed,skirtabouther
waist,smilingasshecomesdownfromherpeak.She’llsecretthispictureawayintohermind.She’llwaiteagerlyforthe
briefmomentstheycanhavegoingforward,stolenlikethiswhenevertheyvisitMeredith.Condemnedtoaquarterlifeofhappiness,
butthey’llwringeverybittheycanfromit.They’llsavoreverymoment.
“Iloveyou,”Bethwhispers,strokingathercheek.GwenrestsherforeheadagainstBeth’s,heavinginairasshecomesdown.
“Iloveyoutoo,”Gwenmurmurs,anglingherheadtosipakissfromherlips
Butashersweatcoolsandherheartbeatcalms,Gwenfeelsthemomentbreakingaroundthem.Thegravityofwhat’stocome
pressesdownonherandshegoestopullback,toofferplatitudesorexcusesor—something—somethingtomakeitbetter.
Bethsurgesup,unwillingtoseparate,kissingherwithaferocitythatstealsGwen’sbreathawayandpoundsagainstherheart.
LikeifBethtrieshardenough,theirkisscouldforestallthefuture.Asifitcankeepthemhere,inthislittlesecret,
awayfromtheworld,andrealityand—
There’sasharpraponthedoor.
“Beth,yourcarriageishere.”
Bethstills,heldagainsther,eyessqueezedshut.Shedoesn’tmove,holdingtotheirlove,andGwensteelseverythingshe
hastopullaway.ToletBethfallgentlybackonthepillows.Tositupandlookdownatherloverforaslongasshedares.
MeredithknocksagainandBethshakesherhead.GwenstandsandtugsonBeth’shands.Bethhesitatesandthenhereyespop
open,hardandempty.SheletsGwenhelpherfromthebed,watchesasshestraightensherbodice.
Gwenstepstotheside,reachingoutforBeth’sfrazzledbraid,andBethseemstocomebacktolife.Sheswipesatherhair
untilit’scapturedinamessyknothighonherhead.
It’sdevastatinglybeautiful.Sheisdevastatinglybeautiful.
Theystareateachother,inchesapart.Itfeelsliketheearthhastiltedbelowthem,everythingwrongandoff-angled.
“I’llseeyou,”Bethstarts,clenchingherjawashereyesbegintoshine.
Gwennods,barelykeepingherowntearsatbay.“Youwill.We’llwritetoo,”shesays,forcinglightnessandpromiseintoherwords.Theyringhollowaroundthelittleroom.
Bethstartsforward,butthedoorjerksopenandtheycleaveawayfromeachother.Gwenhurriesback,outofsightofthe
hall,eventhoughMeredithstandsblockinganyservant’sview.
“Comeon,”shesays,holdingoutahandtoBeth.
BethglancesatGwenandtheireyesholdforamoment,toomuchtobesaid,andneverenoughtime.
Andthenshe’sgone,andMeredithsnapsthedoorshut,leavingGwenleaningagainsttheemptydresserinthedimsunlight
fromthestreetabove,thoroughlyravishedandutterlybroken.Theyweresupposedtohavethreemoredays.
WhenMeredithreturnssometenminuteslater,Gwenhasmanagedthroughhersobstostepintoherhoopandtieitwithtrembling
fingers.MeredithjustbendstopickupGwen’spetticoat,helpingherslideitoverherruinedhairandfastenitoverher
hoop.
“We’llmakesureyouseeeachother,”Meredithpromisesastheygetheroverskirtdownontopofthepetticoat.
“Itisn’t—”Gwenstarts,unsurehowtoexplainhowmuchthat’snotenough.Itwillneverbeenough.Shewasn’treadytosay
goodbye.Shethoughttheyhadthreemoredays.
Shethoughtshewascomingherefortea.
“No,it’snot,”Meredithagrees,steppingaroundtoherfronttobuttonthebodiceGwenthrewoninahurrybeforeleaving
heremptytownhouse.“Butit’ssomething.”
Gwenmeetsherunderstandingeyes.“Thankyou.”
Meredithsmilessadly.“YouwoulddothesameforAlbie,andIhopesomedayforme,ifweneededyouto.”
“Iwould,”Gwensaysquickly,grabbingherhand.“Ifyoueverneedanything—”
“Beagoodcousintoourchildren,afriendtome,toAlbie,that’sallIask,”Meredithsays,herroundfacesereneandearnest.
“Ipromise,”Gwensaysswiftly.
“Good.Now,let’sgohavescones,andthenAlbiewillpickusupandwe’llpromenadewithmymother.”
Gwendeflates.“Idon’tknowthatI—”
Meredithgivesherasternlook.“Youwillnotgohometogrieveinanemptyhouse.Bethhastheluxuryofbeingobnoxiously
busy.Weneedtokeepyouatleasthalfasoccupied.”
Andthoughit’snotenough,notbyanystretch,theteaandsconesdohelp.AndlisteningtoMeredithandAlbiesnickerabout
thetonkeepsherbreathing.Andasthedaywearsonshefindsthattheworldhasn’tended.Shestillhasherfamily,her
friends.She’llkeepmovingeventhoughshe’sbeentornapart.Itturnsoutyoureallycanwalkthroughlifewithanirreparably
brokenheart.Herfather’smanaged,afterall.
Thatnight,whenshereturnshome,alittletipsyfromthebottleofchampagneAlbiestashedinthecarriage—ofwhichMeredith’s
motherhappilypartookwhiledeliveringGwenhome—shefindsFatheractuallyattheirdinnertable.Helooksup,givingher
anexhaustedsmile.
Andforonemoment,Gwenforgetsherheartbreakandhorror,andsmilesback,settlingathisside.Mrs.Gilpebringstheir
plates—alightsummersaladwithpotatosoup,easyandbright.
“Youlookwell,”Fatherdecidesafterthey’veeatenforafewminutes.
Meredithreappliedhermakeup,andshesupposesshedoeslooksunbrightenedfromtheday.Hehasn’tseenherfrequentlyenoughrecentlytoreallyknowbetter.
“Youlookexhausted,”shesays,takinginthedeepcirclesbeneathhiseyes,andtheslighthollowtohischeeks.“Haveyou
eatenatallinthelastfewdays?”
“I—”Fatherbegins,andthensighs,rubbingatthebackofhisneck.“Ihaven’tbeenhomemuch,haveI?”
Gwenshrugsandtakesasipofhersoup,earnestlytryingtohidejusthowmuchhehasn’tbeenhome,andhowmuchshe’smissed
him.It’sonethingtoloseBeth—tofeellikeshe’slosinghimtoo…
“Howareyou,really?”Fatherasks.
Gwenblinks.“I’mfine.”
“Idoubtthat,”Fathersayssoftly.
Gwensinksbackagainstherchair,theacheofitchargingbackupherchest.“Ihadhoped—”Shepauses.Hadhopedwhat,exactly?
“YouthoughttherewasstillachanceBethmightabandonhermatch,hersecurity,hersafety,andcomelivewithyou?”he
asksgently.
Gwenlooksover,surprised.“I—no,no,I…didn’t,”sheargues,hervoicebrittle.
Sheknowsthatwon’thappen.Thatitcan’t.It’swhytheyschemedandtriedandpushed.ButBethcan’tjustwalkawayfrom
thelifetheAshmondscangiveher.Gwenknowsthat.She’scriedaboutitenough.
“Ihopedso,whenIwasyourage,”Fathersays,andGwenmeetshiseyes,surprised.“ThoughtthatattheeleventhhourCordeliawouldgiveupheradvantageandcomebacktome,marrymeandliveasmallbuthappylife.Ibelieveditmighthappenrightupuntilthechurchbellsrang.Anditbrokeme.”
Gwenwatchesasheregardsher,paternalandprotectiveandexperienced.“Whatdidyoudo?”Gwenasks,feelingherheartbreaking
alloverforhimandherself.
“Idrank,andIpartied,andIgotagoodgirlintrouble,andgotyou,”hesayssteadily.
Gwenswallowshard.Shethoughthedidn’tknowshehadheardhimandMrs.Gilpe—hopedhe’dthoughtthatshe’djustbeensick.
Shehasn’thadthehearttomentionit.
“AndIwoulddoitalloveragaintogetyou,”hesaysfirmly,reachingouttotakeherhand.“ButIcan’tpretenditwas
easyorhowIwantedtobringyouintotheworld.Andyourmother,resthersoul—youcandobetterthanme,Gwen.Findagood
man,orhell,agoodwomanwhocanstaywithyou.WecangotoParis.Ihearfromfriendsit’smuchmore…openabout
thesethingsrightnow.”
Gwenblinks.He—hewouldtakehertoParis,tomeetanicewoman—“Butwhataboutthetitle?”
“Wecanworryaboutthatlater,”Fathersays,shrugginglikeit’snolongerimportant.“IfIcanpushthisvotethrough,I
don’treallygiveadamnwhathappensafter.”
“Andyouwouldn’t…mind?IfInevermarried?”
“Ijustwantyoutobehappy,”hesayssimply.
Gwensitsforamoment,soakingthatin.Wordsshe’swantedtohearforages—shecanstanddown,shecanletgooftheseason,
shecansimplybeherself.
Butwhatdoesitmatterifitwon’tbewithBeth?
“Whataboutyou?”sheasks,seeingoneshimmeringlastchance.
“Whataboutme?”
“Ifyoudon’tcare,afterthisvote—ifitdoesn’tmatter—whycan’tyoubehappytoo?”
Fathersnorts.“Whatdoyoumean,Gwennie?”
Gwensummonsthelastdregsofhercourage.Bethgaveitherall;Gwenhastoatleasttry.“AskLadyDemerovenforherhand.
Takeyourownhappiness.Andwhoknows,youcouldgetanheir—aplannedone.Andevenifyoudon’t—”
“Gwen—”
“She’smiserabletoo.ShehatestheAshmonds,andBethsaysit’slikewatchinghersubmittoherfatheralloveragain.Can’t
we—can’tyoutry,justoncemore?Askagain.”
Theeasefallsfromhisface,thatguarded,aloofexpressionshesohatessettlingoverhim.It’sthelookhewearsatballs.
Thewayhelookswithwomen.Detachedandpoisedanduncaring.
“Youmaybeagluttonforpunishment,butIamnot,”hesaysstiffly.
“What?”
“TheteaswithMeredith?Doyouthinkyou’vebeensubtle?”
Gwenleansback,surprisedanddefensivebutwithnowaytoargueit.“I—”
“HowyouandBethdealwiththepainisyourbusiness,butIdidmytime.Iletthatwomanstompallovermyheart,twice.
Iwon’tdoitathirdtime.”
Gwenblinksandbeforeshecanformulateanotherargument,beforeshecansayanything,hestandsandtosseshisnapkinonto
thetable.
“You’reagoodgirl,Gwennie.Iloveyouverymuch.Butleavemeoutofthis.Iwon’thaveusutterlydestroyedbytheDemerovensagain.Wewillmoveforwardwithourlives,andsomedaythiswillbejustapainfulmemory,Ipromiseyouthat.”
Heturnsandstridesoutoftheroom,leavingGwenalone,forthesecondtimetoday,heartbrokenandwinded.ChapterTwenty-SevenBeth
Bethrunsherfingersoverherengagementring,spinningitonherfinger,tryingtoletthehypnoticmotiondrownoutthe
worldaroundher.Shesitsacrossfromhermother,watchingherpokelistlesslyatherdrychickenwhileLordAshmondbloviates.
They’rehereforaconsolationdinneronedaybeforethewedding,onedayaftertheMCAvote,whichpassed.AndLordAshmond
isstillalividpurple.
Bethhasn’thadtimetoletitsinkin—toknowshedoeshaveanescapeifsheeverneedsone.Ifsheeverwantsone,shecan
arguehercase,canescapetheAshmonds,cangofindGwen,candisappearintotheslumsandliveahappylifewithherlover.
Butthenshelooksacrossathermother,jawtightandbackstraightasLordAshmondcontinuestorail.Shecannotleaveher
motherherewiththesepeople.Theyareeitherinmiserytogether,ortheyleavetogether.AndwhileBeththinksshecould
livealifeofpovertywithGwen,lovedandcaredfor,evenwithoutasingleluxuryorcomfort,shecannotdoomhermother
toalovelesspoverty.
Andsothey’rehere,listeningtoherfather-in-law-to-begoonandonabouttheevilsofwomen,whilehiswifeandsonnodabsentlyalong.Bethstilldoesn’tknowifLordMontsonbelievesasinglewordhisfathersays,butsheknowsheneverfightshimonit.
Sheknows,too,he’saspowerlessassheistodefendtheact.Hiswholeinheritancedependsonacquiescencetohisfather’s
everyopinion,asdoeshersbyproxy.Butstill.Still,hecouldsaysomethingonherbehalf.
“Anywomanwhowouldabandonahusbandsimplyonthecauseof…whatdidtheysay,Harry?”
“Emotionaldistress,”LordMontsonsaysaroundamouthfulofpotatoes.
“Emotionaldistress,”LordAshmondsneers.“Womenareinemotionaldistressatthedropofahat,literally.Didn’tyouweep
theotherday,dearest,whenyourhatfellinthemud?”
LadyAshmondnodsplacidly,hereyesdistantandabitempty.Bethwondersifhermotherisn’ttheonlyonetohavedipped
intothelaudanum.
“Howcouldawomandifferentiatebetweentheaveragedistressandsomethingdeeperthen,ifallittakesisahat?”LordAshmond
continues.“Preposterous.Howamanbehaveswithhiswifeisnobusinessofthecourts’.”
“Unlesshe’sbeatingher,”Bethfeelsherselfsay,clampingherlipsshutasthewholetableturnstolookather.
ShehearsMothersighquietly,buthasmorepressingmattersnow,withLordAshmondglaringather.LordMontsonlookson
insurprise.
“Ionly,well,Ionlymeanthat,insomeextremecases,Isupposeitisthebusinessoflawenforcementifawomanfearsforherlife.But,ah,thatwascoveredbeforetheMCAinextremecases,wasn’tit?SoIdidn’t…Ididn’tmean…anythingbyit,”shepetersoff,unabletostandtallinthefaceoftheearl’sglower.
“I’msureBethunderstandsthedifferencebetweenpettywordsandassault,”Motherchimesin.
“Right,”Bethsaysquickly.“Ionlyworryforthoseyoungladiesmarriedtomucholdermen,whomighthavedifferent…
customs,that’sall,”Bethdefendsmeekly.
LordAshmondworkshisjaw,notwanting,itseems,toinsulthisson’sbride-to-be.Hereallymightthinkit’stherightof
thehusbandtobeatawifebloodyifhewants.Barbaric.
“Bethknowsherplace,”Mothersays.
“Thatshedoes,”LordMontsonagrees,glancingathisfatherbeforesendingBethastrikinglywinningsmile.“Andthatshe
neverneedstoworryaboutsuchthingsfromme.”
“Yes,yes,”LordAshmondsays,apparentlymollifiedbyhisson’spromisenottobeatBethsenseless.
Whichseemslikefaintpraisetoher,theveryleasthecando.ButshereturnsLordMontson’ssmileanyway,gratefulatleast
tobeoutfromhisfather’sscrutiny.
“Bethknowsherplace,”LadyAshmondrepeats.“Andunderstandswhatitmeanstobeinthisfamily.Dirtylaundryshouldnever
beaired,publiclyorprivately.Marriageisasacredbond.”
ThewholetableturnstolookatLadyAshmond.Thatimplies—
“Quiteright,”LordAshmondagrees,pattinghiswife’shand,alittletoohardgiventhewaythesilverwarerattles.“Disputes
shouldbesettledprivately,andfamilybusinessisjustthat—forthefamily.Don’tyouagree,LadyDemeroven?”
BethwatcheshermothertakeinthetableauoftheAshmonds—hisheavyhandonLadyAshmond’sfrailone,hisbravado,hisinsistencethatallillsanddisagreementsaresettledin-house—byhim.
“LadyDemeroven,youdon’tthinkyoungladiesshouldbegoingtothecourtsformatterstheycouldresolveathome,”Lord
AshmondpromptswhenMotherhasdonenothingbutstare.
Bethswallows,uneasesettlingintoherstomach.Silencedoesn’tbodewellwhenitcomestohermother.
“Ofcourseshedoesn’t,”Bethsayssoftly,forcingasmilefortheAshmonds.“You—youknowourpositionontheMCA.”
“Therightone,”LordMontsonsaysquickly.
Bethpresseshernailsintoherpalms.
“LadyDemeroven?”LordAshmondprompts.“Iknowyourlatehusbandagreed.Stand-upman,hewas.”
Andthat,somehow,seemstobethelaststraw.
“Myhusbandwasaloutwhospoutedthesameabhorrentdrivelandusedtobackhandmeforeveryslight.IfIcouldhavetaken
himtocourtandgottenhalfofhisestate,Iwouldhave,andIwouldtellBethtodothesameshouldyoursonever,ever,”
Mothersays,turningahardlookonLordMontson,“raiseahandtoher.AndIwouldsupportheruseofthenewlawimmediately.”
Bethgapes,asdoesLadyAshmond,whileLordMontsonjuststares,wide-eyed.What—
“Thinkverycarefullyaboutyournextwords,”LordAshmondsays,hisvoicedeathlyevenandlow.
“Orwhat?”Motherasks,leaningbackinherchair.
Somethinghasbrokenwithinher,Bethcanseeit.Stretchedtautandsnapped.
“Andyou?”LordAshmondasks,turninghisglareonBeth,whofightstostaysittingstraight.Ifhermothercandoit,socanshe.“Doyoufeelthesame?”
BethglancesatMother,whodoesn’tacknowledgeher,glaringrightbackatLordAshmond.BethtakesabreathandmeetsLord
Montson’swideeyes.
“Iwouldgivemyhusbandwarning,thatifheeverstruckmeagain,thatwouldbeit.Iwon’t—Iwon’tstandtobebeaten,”
shesaysslowly.“Argumentsdon’twarrantdivorce,butIwon’tstandtobeabused.Ihavevalueanddeservetobetreated
well.Ibelieveyoursonagrees.”
LordMontsonstaresatherandthennodsquickly.Buthisfacegoesflatwhenhisfatherturnshisgloweronhim.Bethwatches
ashewithstandsthescrutiny,andsuddenlythatquicklittlenodisn’tascomforting.“He’llbekindtoBethwhenhisfather
isn’taround”isn’tquitetheassuranceshewants.
“Harryknowshisplace,”LordAshmonddecides.“AndIsuggestyoulearnyours,”headds,turningbacktoMother.“Whatever
youthoughtofyourlatehusband,youwillonlyspeakofhimkindlyinthishouse.Hewasagood,strongman,whofoughtfor
hisideals.Iimaginehe’srollinginhisgravetohearyouevencontemplateusingtheact,orBeth.”
Motherclenchesherjawandstayssilent.
“Andyou,”headds,turningbacktoBeth.“Youwillbepatient,andpositive,andobeymysoninallways,andifyoudo,
youshouldneverhaveneedtospeaksuchprogressive,hurtfulthingsagain.Youwilldoashesaysanddefertohiminall
ways.”
Bethstaresatherfather-in-law-to-be.“I—”ShelookstoLordMontson,buthewon’tmeethereyes.“I—”shestartsagain,
herchesttight.
Shewon’tbebeaten.Shewon’tbeyelledat.Shewillnotrepeatwhathermotherendured.
“No,shewon’t,”Mothersays,andBethfeelsherheartplummet.ButthenMotherstandsup.“Ifthoseareyourconditions,
LordAshmond,thatmydaughtersubmittoanythingyoursonwants,withoutquestion,beitverbalorphysical,orsimplyhis
abhorrenttasteinunseasonedfood,thenwewillhaveaproblem.”
“LadyDemeroven,youmisunderstand,”LadyAshmondsayssoftly,beforeyelpingasherhusband’sgriponherhandtightens.
“Youwillsitdownthisinstant,wewillhaveanotherroundofdrinks,andwewillspeakofthisnomore,ortherewillbe
seriousconsequences,”LordAshmondsaysdarkly,hisvoiceice-cold.
MotherandLordAshmondglareateachotherforwhatfeelslikeaneternal,awfulminute.Theirwholefutureteetersonthis
moment,andBethcan’tdaretobelieve—
“Thenwehaveaproblem,”Mothersays,hervoiceevenanddevoidofemotion.“Beth,gatheryourthings.We’llbeleavingnow.”
LordAshmondstandsabruptly,rockingthetable.“Beverycareful,LadyDemeroven.”
“Orwhat,you’llhitme?”
LadyAshmondsqueaks.LordMontsongapes.AndBethhastilyfoldsherskirts,hopepoundingviolentlyagainstherchest.
“Iwillendthisengagementandyournameandyourdaughter’swillbedraggedthroughthemud,”LordAshmondthreatens.
Motherlaughs.Laughs.“And?Youroppositionfailed.Parliamentisabouttobeoutofsession.Idon’tknowwhatdamageyouimaginecouldbedonetoourreputations,withyourownsolowasitis.Couldn’tdrumupthevotes.LetyourselfgetbeatenbyLordHavenfort.”
LordAshmondpushesbackhisseatandLordMontsonfinally,finallystandsup.“Father,”hecautions.
Bethslipsoutofherseatandscurriesbehindherchair.
“Getout,”LordAshmondbooms.“Getout.”
“Withpleasure,”Mothersays,noddingtoBeth.“LadyAshmond,ifyoueverneedhelp,”sheadds.
LordAshmondtakesamenacingsteparoundthetabletowardMotherandLordMontsonbodilyblockshim.Bethhurriesaround
thetabletograbhermother’shand.Mothersqueezesherpalmandturnsonherheel,marchingforthehall.
“Beth,”LordMontsoncallsastheyreachthedoorway.
“Goodluck,Harry,”Bethsays,offeringLordMontsonablandsmileoverhershoulderbeforeMotherwalksthemoutoftheroom.
Theystridequicklydownthecavernoushallway,theirshoesslappingagainstthemarblefloor.
Theyhitthefoyerandthestartledporterautomaticallyopensthefrontdoorforthem,allowingthemtospilloutontothe
street.Thedoorsslamclosedbehindthemandtheytripdownthestairstostandonthesidewalk,heavinginairinthecool
summerevening.There’snocarriagewaiting—ofcoursethereisn’t.
“Whatwasthat?”Bethasks,turningtoMother,who’sflushedandabitdisheveled,butstandingtallerthanshe’sseenher
inmonths.
“I—Idon’tknow,”Motheradmits,meetingBeth’seyes.“God,Ijust—thatman—”
“Isabhorrent,”Bethagrees.
“Yes,”Mothersays,reachingouttobrushastrayhairfromBeth’sface.“Yes,you’reright.You’vebeenrightforalong
time,andIthought—IthoughtIcoulddothis,livethiswayagain,butIcan’t.Youwereright,Beth,”sherepeats.
Bethsmilesslowly,shockedandrelieved.Laughterbubblesupfromherchest.AhighgiggleescapesandMother’sfaceblooms
intoasmileofitsown,untilthey’reteeteringthereinfrontoftheAshmondhouse,grippingateachothertostaystanding.
Mothergainsenoughcontroltoturnthemandbeginthelongwalkhome.Perhapstheycanfindacoachforhireclosertothe
park,butthestreetsareempty.It’sThursdayevening,andeveryoneisathome,orattheclub,celebratingormourningthe
MCA.
“Iamsorry,”Mothersaysafewminuteslaterasthegleeseemstoleavethem,exhaustionandshockinitswake.
“Forwhat?”Bethwonders.
She’sabitnumbnow,butshethinksshe’llbeincandescentlyhappyinafewhours.Evenwithnoplanaheadofthem,andthe
houseabouttobetaken—they’refree.They’refree
“Iknowhewasn’tyourchoice,butyouatleastlikedLordMontson,whichwasn’tnothing,”Mothersays.
Bethshakesherhead,squeezingMother’sarm.“Don’tworryaboutthat.”
Motherstops,pullingBethtoahalt.“Idoworrythough,”shesaysandBethturnstomeethereyes.“Ijustblewupyour
marriage,andnow—they’llbecomingtotakethehouseintwodays,oh,Beth,whatdidIdo?”shesays,panicbubblingupall
overherface.“WhathaveI—”
“Idon’tcare,”Bethsaysquickly.“Ineverwantedtomarryhim.AndIdidn’twanttowatchyouacquiescetoLordAshmond,andnowIdon’thaveto.We’llfigureitout.”
“But,”Mothersays,herfacepaleunderthelamplight.
“We’llfigureitout,”Bethpromises,happytotakechargenow,sinceMothersavedthemboth.“WecanstaywithMeredith,
I’msure,forafewdays.”
“She’sabouttogetmarried,”Motherprotests.
“Allthemorereason.Hermotherwillneedafriend,”Bethsayssimply.Mothershakesherhead.“Itwillbefine.”
“Ijustendedouronechanceatsecurityoverastupidargument,”Motherexclaims,hervoicebouncingoverthecobblestones.
“Itwillnotbefine.”
ButBeth—Bethfeelsasurgeofpower,ofpromise,ofhope.
“Notouronlychance,”shesaysslowly.“Notatall.Comeon.”
ShetakesMother’shandandbeginspullingherdownthestreet,towardthecornerthatwilltakethemoneoftwoways.
“Beth,stop,”Mothersays,butBethcan’tstop.Theyhavesomewheretobe.“Wherearewegoing?”
“Togetyouyourhappyending,”Bethsaysfirmly,laughingasMothersplutters.Sheturnsthemdownthestreet,awayfrom
theirtownhouse.
“Stop.Whereareyoutakingus?”Motherdemands,pullingthemupshortbeneathastreetlight.
“Itoldyou.Yourhappyending.It’sstillthere,”Bethinsists.
Motherstaresatherforamoment,confused,untilitclicks,andsheblanches.“No,no,Beth,there’snoway—”
“Youwantedmetohaveahusbandwhowouldbegoodtome.Whowouldhaveatitleandthemoneytosupportbothofus.Whowouldtreatmewellandloveme,right?”
Motherfrownsdownather.
“Right?”
“Yes,”Mothersaystightly.
“Someonewhowasgenuine,andhadgoodmorals,andfoughtforgoodthings?”
“Beth—”
“LordHavenfortisallofthosethings,butforyou.Youspentmywholelifewithalout—yousaidsoyourself.Nowyoushould
spendtherestofyourswithagentleman.”
Mother’smouthfallsopenandBethlaughs,tryingtotugherbackalong.ButMotherholdstighttoherhand,ananchorthere
beneaththestreetlight.
“Beth,you’renot—Ican’t—hewon’ttakeme,”Mothersays,hervoicesuddenlyrough.
“Ofcoursehewill,”Bethcounters,toofilledwithhopenowtosecond-guessherself.“Helovesyou.He’sbeenawrecksince
wepartedways,drinkingandthrowinghimselfintopolitics.Buthelovesyou.Hehasforyears.”
“I’vebrokenhishearttoomanytimes,”Mothersays.“Ican’t—whywouldhetakemenow?”
“Becauseyou’rereadynow.Andbecauseyou’reyou,”Bethinsists.
“I’mnot—”
“What—beautiful,learned,witty,fun,andamatchforabsolutelyanyone?LordHavenfortmayhavecrackedhimone,butLord
Ashmondlookeddestroyedtonightandyoudidn’tliftafinger,barelyevenabrow!”
Mothersnorts.Bethcan’trememberthelasttimehermotherlookedatherlikethis—vulnerableandstillsoyoung,andopen,andseekingBeth’sapproval.Heropinionmattersnow.Hasalwaysmattered.
“Comeon.He’snoscarierthanLordAshmond,andinfinitelymorehandsome.”
MotherlaughsalittleandletsBethtugherupthestreet,movingmoreslowly,butfollowingallthesame.Alltheyneed
todoisputtheminthesameroomtogether,freeofpreviousobligations,contracts,andresponsibilities.She’ssureof
it.
Doubtingitnowwouldonlymakeheraspaleandfrightenedashermother,andBethdoesn’thavetimetowonderandworry.
There’safireinherstomachandatingleinherlimbsasshedragsMotherthefouravenuesuntilthey’restandingoutside
themassiveHavenforthome.Thelasttimeshewashere,Gwen—
No.Thisishermother’smoment.Therewillbetimeforherownreunionafter
“Darling,”Motherwhispers,wrappingherfreehandaroundBeth’sarmandsqueezing.She’spracticallytrembling.
“It’srightthere.Youjusthavetoreachoutandtakeit.Twenty-twoyears,Mother,andit’sjustminutesawaynow.”
Motherturnsandmeetshereyes.Bethtakesinthewide,wetsheeninhergaze,hershakinghands,herpalecheeks.Shesmiles
reassuringlyandsqueezeshermother’shand.
“Tonight,justthinkaboutwhatyouwant.Nothingelsematters.”
“Andifhesaysno?”
Bethtakesadeepbreathandkeepshersmile.“ThenyouandIwilllivecozilyinahovelsomewhereandwe’llbehappythere
too.”
“Beth,Ican’tletyou—”
“Youandme.We’dbescandalousladiesabouttown.Andwe’dbefabulous,”shesaysfirmly.“Butthat’snotyourfuture.You’re
goingtobemarriedtooneofthewealthiestmenaround,andhe’sgoingtotreatyoulikeadamnqueen.”
Motherhuffsandglancesabout,liketheactualqueencouldbeloiteringsomewherenearby,eagertobeinsulted.
“Mother,youcandothis,”Bethinsists.
“Ican?”
“What’sscarier?Tellingagoodmanyoulovehim,orspendingyourfuturealone?”
“ButIwouldn’tbealone,”Mothersaysslowly.“I’dhaveyou.”
Bethsmilesandleansuptokisshercheek.TheylefttheirbonnetsattheAshmonds’.Shame;theyweregoodbonnets.
“You’llhavemeeitherway.Butyoucouldhavealotmorethanjustme,ifweknock.”’
“Idon’tneedanythingelse,”Mothersays,grippingatherhand.“Truly.”
Bethnods.“Iknow.Butlet’shavemoreanyway.Whatdoyousay?”
Motherpullshercloseforamomentbeforethedecisionsettlesoverher.Hershouldersrollback,hernecklengthens,her
jawsetsandBethwatchesitall,fascinated.Hermother,indomitable,confident,andsure,takesthestepstwoatatime,
draggingBethalong,laughingbehindher.
Andsuddenlyherdoubtsaretrulygone.Mothergetswhatshewantswhenshelookslikethat.Andwhatshewants—it’swhat
theyallwant.Ahappily-ever-after,assoonassomeonecomestothedoor.
ChapterTwenty-EightGwen
“You’renotexpectingvisitors,areyou?”Mrs.Stelmasksasshe,Gwen,andMrs.Gilpetraipsefromtheircardgameinthe
kitchentowardthefrontdoor.
“It’sgonenine,rudetobecallingwithoutaninvitation,”Mrs.Gilpemutters,thoughGwen’srathersureit’sjustcarried-over
frustrationfromthethoroughtrouncingMrs.Stelmwasgivingthem.
“Couldbesomethingpolitical,”Gwenoffers.
Father’sinhisstudy,thoughshebelieveshehasplanstobeattheclublater.Somethingaboutrubbingtheact’spassage
intosomesmugconservativefaces.
AnotherknockringsaroundthefoyerandMrs.Gilpesighsgustily,marchingtothedoorandflingingitopen—theporter’s
onhisnightoff—withGwenandMrs.Stelmrightbehind.She’sclearlyreadytogivethevisitoradressing-down,butherwords
dieinherthroat.
BethandLadyDemerovenstareanxiouslybackatthemthereonthefrontstoop.
“Beth?”Gwenwhispers.
“IsLordHavenfortathome?”LadyDemerovenasks,hervoiceshakingbutstancetallandproud.
Mrs.Stelm,Mrs.Gilpe,andGwenjuststareather,allofthemalittleslack-jawed.
“Iapologizeforour…forwardarrival,butitreallyisurgent.”
“Right.Yes,I’ll,ah,I’llgogethim,shallI?”Mrs.Stelmsays,glancingatMrs.GilpeandGwenbeforehurryingoffdown
thehall.
“Comein,please,”Mrs.Gilpesays,usheringthetwowomeninside.
They’redressedforafineeveningout,infullhoopsandsilk,hairpiledhighandmakeupperfectlydone.Gwen,bycomparison,
iswearinganoldpairofstaysandahousedress,Mrs.Gilpe’sinanapron,andMrs.Stelm’sluckyshe’snotinadressing
gownatthispoint.
“What…”GwenbeginsasBethseparatesfromhermothertocomestandatherside.
Bethtakesherhand,nearlyvibrating,andGwenglancesbetweenLadyDemerovenandherdaughter.LadyDemeroven’spractically
shakingaswell,butlooksfarlesssanguinethanBeth,who’salmost…radiantbesideher.LadyDemerovenlookslikeshe’s
abouttogotothegallows,actually.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Gwenasks,turningbacktoBeth.
“Whatweshouldhavedonemonthsago,”Bethsayssimply,squeezingherhand.“Watch,”sheadds,nudgingGwentolooktoward
thehallwhereFatherhaspausedbythestaircase,staringatthemall,Mrs.Stelmhoveringbehindhim.
Silencehangsoverthefoyer,interruptedonlybytheshiftingoffabric.Gwenwouldbreakthequiet,butshecan’tseemto
openhermouth,notwiththeviolenthopeswirlinginherstomach.
“Hassomethinghappened?”Fatherfinallyasksaftertheshockhaswornoff.
Hehurriestowardthem.Mrs.GilpemoveswithMrs.Stelmtorespectfullyvacatethefoyer,thoughGwen’ssurethey’llbeleaving
thedoortotheservinghallopenandhoveringjustoutofsight.
“Iseverythingallright?”Fatherasksagain,stridingpurposefullytowardLadyDemeroven,who’sjust…staringathim.
“Thegirls?”
HeglancesatBeth,whogiveshimawaveandasmile.Gwenwondershowshecanbesoblaséwhenthisfeels—momentous,precious,
precarious.
“Isittheengagement?”heprompts,turningbacktoLadyDemeroven,nowonlystepsaway,andstillstandingfrozen.“Cordelia,
you’rescaringme,”heinsists.
HernameseemstounglueherjawandGwenwatchesasshetakesaverydeepbreath.Itlooksforamomentlikeshe’sabout
tocurtsy,butshekeepssinking,untilshe’skneltinfrontofFather,onone—
GwengaspsandBethelbowsher.Butitdoesn’tmatter.Father’snowtheoneshaking,staringdownatthiswomanwhohasbroken
hisheart,andgivenhimjoy,andstayedwithhiminmemoryalltheseyears.
“I,um,”LadyDemerovenstarts.Father’swholebodyjolts,likeshe’sbroughthimoutofsomekindoftemporarystasis.“I
realizethisis…abrupt,andforward,andpossiblyfutile.ButI,ah,Iwantedtoapologize,forthehurtI’vecaused.
Toaskyourforgiveness,ifyoucangiveit.Andtooffer—”Shepauses,glancingoveratBeth,whogivesherathumbs-up.
Gwencan’tbelievethis.Itcan’tbehappening.Didshefallasleepandgetcarriedupstairsandisnowlivingsomesortoffeverdream?
“Well,tooffermyself,”LadyDemerovensays,scrunchinghernosewhileBethlaughsquietly.“Thatsoundsterrible.Imeant—I
mean,Iamheretoaskyoutotrustmeoncemore,withthepromisethatIwillneverbreakyourtrustagain,oryourheart.”
“Cordelia—”Fatherstarts,butLadyDemerovenshakesherhead.
“Willyoumarryme?”sheasks,lookingupathim,herfacebrokenopen,youngandshyandhopeful.
ShelooksalittlelikeBethanditmakesGwen’schestache.Sayyes,shewantstoscream.Oh,please,sayyes
“Isthis—isthisforthegirls?”Fatherasks,glancingbackatthem,hiseyessofteningatwhatmustbethesightofthem,
clutchingateachotherhopefully.
“Ifitwas?”LadyDemerovenasks.
Fatherlooksbackdownather.“Anarrangementfortheirsakecouldbemade,butdonotaskmethusifitisn’tforyourself.”
LadyDemeroven’sfacebrightensandshelooksupatFatherwithsuchadorationandopenemotionthatGwenalmostwantsto
turnandgivethemprivacy.Almost,butnotenough,becauseshe’sdesperatetoseeFathersay—
“Thenyes,”Fathersayssoftly,reachingdowntotakeLadyDemeroven’shandandpullherupfromthefloor.
Hetugshercloseandplantsakissonherthatmakeshersqueakandthenmeltintohim,thetwoofthemheldtighttogether.
“OhmyGod,”Gwenhearsherselfsay.Bethshrieks,thesoundbouncingaroundtheroomandbreakingtheirparentsapart.
GwenwhacksBeth,butshe’sgigglingtoomuchtodomore.Giggling,giddy,shocked,andstunned.Their—theydidit.Their
parentsare—
“Happy,girls?”Fatherasks,turningtoregardthemwithLadyDemerovenstillinhisarms.
Bethnodsandrushestohughermother,whoonlyjuststepsawayfromFathertoreceiveher,bothofthemlaughingindelight.
Fatherwatchesthemfondlybeforesteppingaside,armsoutstretched.Gwenfindsherselfhurryingacrossthefloorinmuch
thesameway,wrappingFatheruptightinahugthatfeelslikefreedom.
“I’msohappyforyou,”Gwentellshimasshepullsback.
“Metoo,”Fathersays,chucklingdownather.Hecan’tstopsmiling,hiseyesallcrinkled.“Andhappyforyouaswell.”
“Yes,”LadyDemerovensays,andGwenturns,Father’sarmslidingaroundhershouldersastheyfacetheir—what,exactly?She
watchesLadyDemerovengiveBethasoftsmile.Beth’sgrinwidens.“We’llneedtodiscusstheparticulars,andobviouslyyou
girlsunderstandthecharadethatwillhavetocontinue?”LadyDemerovenasks.
“Thatwe’restepsisters,orthatwe’restilllookingforhusbands?”Bethasks,lookinggleeful.
“Both,”LadyDemerovensays,glancingatFather,whonods.“Thoughperhapswecanforgettherestofthisseason,andpossibly
thenext.”
GwenfeelsherselfrelaxintoFather’sside.“So,youdon’tmind?”sheasksLadyDemeroven,feelingshybutboldatonce.
“No,”LadyDemerovensayssoftly,squeezingBeth.Beth’sshouldersseemtocomedown,chinhigh.“Ifyou’rebothhappy,that’sallthatmatters,andI’mjustashappyforyou.Andbetter—goodness,betteryou’retogetherthanoutthere.ThethingsLordAshmondsaidtonight,”shesays,glancingatBeth,whosesmiledims.
“Ihopehiswifeisallright,”shesays.
“Whathappened?”Fatherasks.
LadyDemerovenwrinkleshernose.“IthinkI’veensuredthisisaspectacularscandal.IsupposeIshouldhaveopenedwith
that.We’llbe…we’llbedraggingyourreputationthroughquitealot.God,wehavetoformallyendyourengagement,”
sheadds,lookingtoBeth.
“Idothinkstormingoutratherdidthatforus,”Bethcounters.
Fatherchucklesandallthreeofthemturntolookathim.“Don’tworryaboutourcollectivereputation.We’llbethetalk
ofthetonforacycleandthenthey’llforgetus.Iwouldbehappy—no,honored,topenarefusalforBeth,ifyou’dlike.”
LadyDemeroven’sgrinispositivelyevil.“Thatsoundswonderful.”
“Excellent,”Fathersays,squeezingGwentohissidebeforesteppingawayandholdingouthishandforhis…goodLord…
fiancée.“Shallwe?Breakfastinthemorning,girls?”
“We’restaying?”Bethasks.
LadyDemeroventakesFather’shand.“Ihardlythinkonemorescandalcanhurtus,doyou?”
“Agreed,”Fathersays,grinningatherbeforelookingbackatthem.“Haveagoodnight,ladies.”
Andwiththat,FathersweepsLadyDemerovenoffdownthehalltowardhisstudy,leavingaflabbergastedGwenandBethaloneinthefronthall,staringafterthem.Theylistenasthestudydooropensandshuts,andthenit’sjustsilence,thetwoofthemthere,clutchingateachotherinshock.
“Whattheabsolutehell?”Gwenfinallyexclaims,turningtolookBethover,thereliefandhappinessandconfusionofthe
lastfewminutesskitteringoverherskin.
“Surprise?”Bethsays,laughingasGwenshakesherself,unsureifshewantstowhackherorkisshersenseless.
“How?”sheasks,searchingforbetterwords,butcomingupempty.
“LordAshmondandMothergotinaheatedrow,andthatwaskindofthelaststraw.Westormedout,andthenshewaspanicking
andIthought,well,whynottryjustonemoretimeand…itworked.”
“Itworked,”Gwenrepeats,glancingtowardtheclosedstudy.Theyactuallydidit.
ShefeelsBeth’sfingerstrailingdownherarmsandturnsback,tanglingtheirhandstogether.They’rebothwide-eyedand
breathless.Gwenswallows,toomanywordscaughtinherthroat.Bethissobeautiful,andsobrilliant,inherfoyer,hers
tohaveand—
“Ihopeit’sallrightwithyouthatwe’rehereforever.Ireallydon’tthinkIcouldstandtosaygoodbyetoyouathird
time.”
Gwentugsherin,instinctiveandawkward.ShewrapsherarmstightaroundBeth’sshouldersandBethlaughs.“Nomoregoodbyes,
ever,”Gwensaysfirmly,thethoughtburningbrightthroughherchest.
Bethgigglesintoherneck,lipsbrushingoverherpulse.“Yeah?”
“I’mkeepingyou.”
Bethpressescloser,squeezingherwaist.“Foreverandalways?”
“Foreverandalwaysandeternityandinfinity,”Gwenpromises,arushofheady,desperatejoydescendingthroughhershock
thatmakesherpullbacktoseeBeth’sface.
“Forcenturies,andeons,andepochs?”Bethasks,hereyessparkling.
“Foreveryseason,andyear,anddecade,and—”She’shalfwayontobendedkneebeforesheeventhinksaboutit.
“Comehere,”Bethsays,haulingherupintoathoroughly,exultantly,ridiculouslyperfectkiss.Thesilkofhergownbeneath
Gwen’spalms,thepressofherlips,thepressureofherhips—it’sheaven,andtheystaytherekissinglikeit’stheendof
theworldforwhatfeelslikeages
Hers.Hers.Hers.Forever.
“Youhavearoom.”
Theybreakapart,stumblingoutofeachother’sarms.Nolongeralone,GwenlooksuptofindMrs.GilpeandMrs.Stelmstanding
inthedoorwaytotheservinghall.
“Right,”Gwensays,wipingathermouthasBethgoescrimson.
“Goodtoseeyou,MissDemeroven.Gwen,youhaveashiftshecanuse?”Mrs.Stelmadds.
“Ido,yes,right.Thankyou.Um,goodnight.We’ll—oh,Beth,you’llloveplayingcardswith—right.ThisisMrs.Stelm,and
Mrs.Gilpe,ourhousekeepers,”shesays,bumblingaroundthewords.Bethlaughs,andthetwowomenregardherinfondexasperation.
“Verypleasedtomakeyouracquaintance,”Bethsays,dippinginacurtsythatmakesbothwomengrin.
“Ilikeher,”Mrs.Stelmsaysbrightly.
“I’massumingyouheard…allofthat?”Gwenasks.
Mrs.Gilperollshereyes.“Ifyourparentsagree,we’llprepareyourroomfortwo,otherwiseshecanhavetheemptyonenext
toyou.AndMissDemeroven—”
“Beth,please,”Bethsayssoftly.
Mrs.Gilpenods.“Ifyouhaveneedofanything,ourquartersaredownthishall,pastthekitchens,andtotheleft.”
“Thankyou,”Bethsays,hereyesgoingabitwide.
Gwenreasonstherealityofhowmuchhaschangedhasjusthither.Shecantellinafewminutesshe’llbeinherowncomplete
stateofparalysis.Besttheygetupstairsbeforethey’retoooverwhelmedtobother.Andshedoesn’tparticularlylikethe
gleefullookonMrs.Gilpe’sandMrs.Stelm’sfaces.Bethisfreshmeat,anotheryoungwomantoembarrassandspoil,andtonight,
that’sentirelyGwen’sjob.
“Comeon,”shesays,takingBeth’shandtostartthetrektoher—their—room.
BethwavesatMrs.StelmandMrs.GilpeandthenlaughsasGwentugsonherarm,practicallydraggingherupthestairs.Of
course,assoonastheyroundthefirstlanding,Beth’saseagerassheis,thetwoofthemsharingonelookbeforebursting
intogiggles.Theyallbutsprintupthestairsanddownher—their—winguntiltheyreachGwen’sroom.
Gwenpauses,Beth’shandwarminhers,thetwoofthemflushedandhappyandgloriouslyfree.
“Gwen,”Bethprompts.Shereachesoutandopensthedoor,nudgingGwenthrough.
GwenletsherselfbehandledandwatchesasBethflipsthelockwithconfidenceandthencomestostandwithherinthemiddleoftheroom.It’samess,withclothingeverywhereandafewdishesleftabout.She’sbeeninafunkforweeksanditshows.
ButBethjustgrinsather,steppingforwarduntilshecanslideherhandsupGwen’schestanddrawherintoanotherfiery
kiss.AndthenGwendoesn’tcaresomuchaboutthecleanlinessoftheroom,orwherethey’llputallofBeth’sthings,or
howthey’regoingtobalancetheirpublicandprivatelives,orwhatexactlythey’relikelytofaceafteraletterpenned
bybothoftheirparentsgoestotheAshmonds.
“Iloveyou,”Bethwhispersagainsthermouth.
GwenclutchesatBeth’swaistandpullsbacksoshecanmeethereyes.“Iloveyoutoo.”
Bethsmilesandthenslowlyspinsinherarms.“Helpmeoutofthisgodforsakenthing?”
“Withsomuchpleasure,”Gwensays,reachingoutwitheagerfingerstostartundoingBeth’sdress.She’sgoingtokissher
lover,andundressher,andtouchher,intheirbedroom,forthefirstofmany,manywonderfulnightstocome.
Epilogue
April1858
Beth
“Webarelyfit,”Gwengrumbles,shiftingcarefullyaroundBethsotheycanseeintothevanitytogether.
Bethsnorts,reachingouttograbthechairforsupportsoshedoesn’tstumbleintothevanityasGwen’shoopinevitablybumps
hers.ThecircumferenceinstyleisratherlargenowandGwen’snotwrong,withbothofthemintheirroomandclothesand
detritusscatteredabout,it’salmostclaustrophobic.
ButBethdoesn’treallymind,watchingGwenfondlyasshedelicatelywipesatherlipline.Together,Beththinkstheylook
quitetheyoungladies,alittleolder,alittlewiser,andinfinitelyhappierthanthistimelastyear.
Afterall,theywokeuptanglednakedtogetherthismorningandhavenothingmorethandebaucheryplannedfortheopening
ball.It’sfranklyglorious.
“Youshouldwearbluemore,”Gwensays,arrangingherskirtsoitfansoutlikeapeacock’stailbehindhertopressupto
Beth’sback.
“You’rewrinklingit,”Bethprotests,butshestillanglesherheadtothesidesoGwencanpressasoftkisstoherneck.
“Andyou’rebeautiful,”Gwenreplies,grinningather.Theymeeteachother’seyesinthemirror.
“Thegreenisstunningonyou,”Bethsays,enchantedbythewaythedeepgreensilkmakesherskinglowandherblondhair
seemalmostluminous.Itonlyaccentuatesherstarkcollarbonesandregalneck.“Weshouldgobacktobed.”
GwensnortsandBethblushes,bitingherlipforlettingthatthoughtslipthrough.“I’dlovethat,butyourmotherwillbe
uphereintenminutesifwedon’tmakeitdown,andthenFatherafterher,andit’llbeathirty-minutelectureabouther
nervesandIjustcan’t.”
Bethlaughsandnods,pushingthechairintothevanitysoshecanspinaroundwithoutknockingintoboththebedpostand
vanityintheprocess.ShereachesoutasGwendoes,theirhandstangling.
“Youreadyforthis?”Bethasks.
Gwennods,amischievouslookcomingoverherface.“Albiepromisedmehe’dhaveaflask,andBobbyhasalreadypromisedhis
firstthreedancestoyou.It’llbegrand.”
“Iloveyourcousins,”Bethsaysfondly.“Butshouldn’tBobbybejockeyingforamoreeligiblehand?”
“There’snosuchthing,”Gwensaysquickly,andBethlaughs.“Andprobably,butyouknowhowmuchhehatesdealingwiththe
mothers.You’lleasehimin,andthenwecanbothbethereforAlbie.He’sbeenapoutingwretchaboutthewholething.”
Bethsighs.“Gwen—”
“Hewantsustotreathimlikenormal,”Gweninsists.
Bethshakesherhead.ViscountMasonpassedsixmonthsago,leavingAlbieamountainofdebtandestatemanagementcatastrophestosortthrough.Bobby’sspokenofalmostnothingbuttheupcomingseasoneverytimethey’vewritten,eventhoughBethknowsheabhorsmostofit.Andwhilesheunderstandsbothofthemwantingtojustgetonwiththings,griefdoesn’tgoawaylikethat.Evenifyoudidhateyourfather.Sheshouldknow.
“Really.Heaskedmetobeanuisance.DemandedIcheerhimupsohe’snotpiningthewholetime.”
Andthenthere’sthat.“IfIwerestuckinthecountrywithmorningsickness,wouldyouwanttobeallthewaydownhere,
attendingparties?”
Gwenwrinkleshernose.“Stop,Idon’twanttofeelworseforthepoorsod.”
“FeelbadforMerediththen.Iknowhermothersaysit’sjustalittlesickness,butinherlastlettershesaidit’sconstant.”
“Shewroteagain?”
“Itcameearliertodaywhileyouandyourfatherwerefencing.I’d,”Bethstarts,lookingforlornlyathersidetable.“I
can’tgetoverthereinthisdamnthing.I’llshowyoutonight.”
“Tomorrow,”Gwensaysfirmly.“Ihavenointentionofbeingsoberwhenwegethome.”
BethlaughsanddropsoneofGwen’shandssotheycanmaketheirwayoutoftheroom.“Yes,Motherwilllovethat.Andyour
fathertoo,cometothinkofit.”
“Oh,posh,he’snotgoingtobesoberallnight.”
“Ifhewantstosleepintheirbedtonighthewill,”Bethtossesback,thinkingofhermother’sglare.
It’sarelieftohaveitturnedonsomeoneelse.Thoughreally,they’reallequallyliabletoprovokeherthesedays.She’d
beirritated,butshe’sjustsogladMotherhastheenergytohavehermoodsatthispoint,she’llhappilytakeherannoyance.
“Thereyouare.”
Mostlyglad,atleast.BethwithholdsasighandGwensqueezesherhand.TheycomearoundthelastlandingtofindMother
waitinginthefoyer,lookingthunderous.
“We’regoingtohavetositinthereceivinglineforagesnow.Whattakesyougirlssolong?Twosetsofhandsforeverything,
howhardcanitbe?”
BethandGwendescendthestairsasDashiellcomesdownthehallfromthestudy.HeimmediatelystepsupbehindMotherand
beginsrubbinghershoulders.Shescowls,buttheycanallseethetensionleakfromherframe.
“Comenow,darling.I’masecondsetofhandsandhardlyanyhelpatall.”
Motherlaughs,startled,andBethsmiles.Theywatchasoneofhishandsabandonshershouldertowraparoundandreston
theprominentbumpbeneathherskirts.He’ssogoodtoher—hasbeensogoodtoher,steadfastandathersidethroughthe
panicofthepastfewmonths.Butheretheyallare,happy,healthy,andwithajoyfuladditiontothefamilyfirmlyonthe
way.
She’stryingveryhardnottothinkabouttheactualarrival.ThestoryMrs.StelmtoldheraboutGwen’sbirthisstillwrapped
aroundherheart.IfanythingshouldhappentoMother—
“You’resureyouwanttogothroughwiththis?”
“DoyoutrulythinkIcan’thandleasimpleball?”Mothersnipsback.
“Allright,allright,”Dashiellsays,leaningintokisshercheek.
Bethforceshershoulderstocomedown.Everything’sfine.Motherlookselegantandradiantinherdeeppurplegown,adjustedforhergrowingstomach.Herdarkcurlsareshinierthaneverandhercheeksareplumpwithhappiness.
EvenifsheandGwenhaddecidedtheyhatedeachotherafterall,Beththinksalltheschemingwasworthitforthepicture
theirparentsmake:luminouslyhappy,unexpectedlyexpecting,andstillutterlywildabouteachotherthroughallofit.
“Ourdaughters’penchantformessingaboutratherthangettingreadyaside,”Dashiellsays,raisinganeyebrowatthem.Gwen
simplyshrugsandherollshiseyes.“Westillneedtowaitfortheviscount,don’twe?”
“Yes,”Motheragrees,leaningbackagainstDashiellandsighinginrelief.“He’slate.”
“He’syoung,”Dashiellargues.
“Bethwasneverlate,”Mothersays.
“Yes,well,thatwasbecauseofyou,notanynaturalpunctualityonmypart,”Bethsays.
“AndJamesisn’tapresentingdebutante,”Dashielladds.“Hecanbeaslateashelikesandstillbedesirable.”
“Fatlotofgoodthatdoesusthough.Bythattokenwe’llbedirtbeneatheveryone’sshoesifhe’smuchlater,”Gwensays.
BethelbowsherbutDashielljustlaughs.“Areyoutryingtoattractawealthysuitor?”heasks.
“No,”theysaytogether,gigglingasDashiellandMothershaketheirheads.
“Thenitdoesn’tmatter.However,ifeitherofyoushouldmeetagentlemanyouthinkmightsupportyourlifetogether,we
ofcoursewillsupportthat,”Dashielladds.
Bethnods,meetinghermother’seyes.MotherwinksatherandBethleansintoGwenasmuchasshecan.Gwen’sfingerstangle
throughherown.Shetakesadeepbreath.
“Idoubtwe’llfindsomeonethatopen-minded,butthankyou,”Gwenrepliesforthemboth.
“Youneverknow,”Dashiellsaysasaknockreverberatesthroughthefoyer.“Ididn’tthinkI’dendupafatheragain.”
“Yes,somehardshipforyou,”Mothersays,groaningasDashiellgentlypushesherbackuprighttoanswerthedoor.“Benice
toyourcousin,”sheaddsasBethandGwenapproachher.
“We’reneveranythingbutdelightful,”GwenprotestsandBethlaughs.
“Ofcourseyouare,”Mothersays,lettingGwentakeherelbowwithherfreehand.“ButImeantBeth.It’snothisfaulthe
inheritedourestate.”
“Idon’twantitanyway,”Bethinsists,evenasasmallpartofherguttwistsatthethought.He’sonlybeeninresidence
foraboutamonth,butitdoesstillrankle.
It’snotliketheywouldhavekeptlivinginthetownhouse,orthenorthernestate,anyway.Buttheentireordealofhanding
everythingover—offorfeitingtheirentirelifeandpropertysimplybecausehecameofage—itjusthasneversatrightwith
her.Theyhaven’tseenhimsincehearrivedinLondon,andhewasagawky,awkwardthinglastyearwhentheymetatMother’s
wedding.Andnowthey’remeanttohelphimfindabride.Likeeitherofthemhastheslightestideaofhowtosucceedatthe
marriagemarket.
Gwensqueezesherhand.Shesupposesthat’snotreallytrue.Theydidsucceed,ratherspectacularly,allofthem.Just…
notinawayanyoneelsewouldrespect.Theirreputationshavesurvived,butonlyjust.Really,arrivingwiththemisgoing
todragJamesdownmorethananythingelse.
“Cousin.”
BethandGwenstopcoldasatall,broad-shoulderedyoungmanbowstothemonthefrontsteps.Whenhestandsup,Bethcan’thelpbutgape.Goneistheacneandungainlyheight.Jameshasfilledoutintohisfigure.He’sstillatouchawkwardandlonglimbed,butit’soffsetbyhisstrongjawandbeautifulsandy-brownhairandblueeyes.
He’shandsome.Trulyhandsome.Aman,now.
“Yougrewupnicely,”Gwensays.
MothersighsasDashiellturnsabarkoflaughterintoacough.JamesregardsthemabitshylyandBethtriestoofferhim
agenuinesmilewhileshedigshernailsintoGwen’spalminremonstration.Thisishardenoughforthepoorboywithouther
treatinghimlikeAlbie.
“Youlookveryhandsome,”BethsaysasDashiellguideshermothertowardJames’opulentcarriage.She’lltryveryhardnot
tothinkaboutthefactthatit’stheirformermoneythat’ssuppliedit.“Areyouexcitedfortheopeningball?”
“Iguess,”Jamessays,hisvoicealittletimid.
“It’llbeagrandtime,”Gwenassureshim,gesturingforhimtoprecedethemtothecarriage.“We’llhelpyoufallinwith
therightcrowd.”
DashiellsnortswhilehelpingMotherintothecarriage,givingBethenoughcovertoleanintoGwen.“Doyouhavethem?”she
whispers,ignoringJames’curiouslook.
“Ofcourse,”Gwensays,pattingherpocket.
BethtriestohidehergrinasDashiellhandsGwenupintothecarriage.
“Don’tlistentothem,”hesaystoJames,beforereachingoutforBeth.“Neither’shadasuccessfulseason.”
“Mostlybychoice!”Gwencallsout.
Bethclambersupintothecoach,arrangingherskirtsaroundGwen’sastheyperchontoonebench.Jamesshufflesinside,squeezinginnexttoher.DashiellsettlesbesideMotherandclosesthedoor.Hetapstheceilingandtheyjoltoff.
Motheralreadylooksalittlegreen.Really,theyshouldhavestayedhome.SheknowsMotherwillbefine,butitdoesseem
moretroublethanit’sworthforhertobeonherfeetallnight.
“Don’tletmyhusbandworryyou.BethandGwenknowmanylovelyyoungladiesandthey’llbehappytointroduceyou,”Mother
saystightly,holdingontoDashiellwithonehandandbracingherselfagainsttheceilingwiththeother.
“AndItrustyoucanseethemhomeifweneedtoleaveabitearly,”Dashielladds.
“I’llbefine,”Mothersays.
“Yes,ofcourse,youlookit.”
Motherwhackshisstomachandhelaughs,scootingclosertowraphisarmaroundhershoulders.Shequicklygrabshisfree
handandsqueezes,knuckleswhite.Butshe’ssmiling.
“Haveagoodtime,don’tdrinktoomuch,anddotrynottobetoosmug,”hecontinues,lookingatGwen.
GwenholdsupherhandswhileBethhidesasnicker.“WhenamIeversmug?I’mthepolitest.”
EvenMotheropenshereyestogiveGwenalook.
“I’lltry,”Gwenpromises.“Albiewillkeepmeinline.”
Dashiellrollshiseyes.“Beth,you’lltry,won’tyou?”
“What,tokeepthemfromdrinkingorkeepGwenawayfromLordMontson?”
“He’snotcoming.Somethingabouthisnewwifebeingill,”Jamessays.Theyallturntolookathimandheshrinksbackagainst
theseat.
“Ah,”Dashiellsays.“Well,then,wewon’thaveproblems.”
“Doesthatmeanhismotherisherealone?”Gwenwonders.
Mothernods.“Benicetoherifyoucan.It’sbeensuchayearforthem.”
“Ofcourse,”Bethsays,beforeGwencangetawordin.
Ofthetwoofthem,GwenremainsthemostheatedabouttheAshmondaffair.NotthatBethreallywantedtorunintoLordMontson.
Shedidn’tquitejilthimatthealtar,butitwasclose.Therewillbeenoughtalkwithoutafullconfrontation.
“IheardtheYokelyshavewonderfulgardens,”JamesoffersafterafewminutesfilledonlywithMother’squietwhimpering
astheyrattleoverthecobblestones.
“Theydo,”Dashiellagrees.
BethandGwenexchangeaglancebeforelookingpointedlyoutthewindows.Theydon’tsecretlyhaveplansforanothertryst
amongstthosehedges.Toreclaimthatmazefromthepainoflastyear.Theywouldn’triskexposuretwice;thatwouldbewrong.
Ofcourse,iftheycanconvinceAlbietostandsentinelitmightnotbesobad.Anditisn’tliketheydidn’tcoverforhim
andMeredithoverthewinterwhenthetwoofthemcouldbarelykeeptheirhandsoffeachother,newlyweddedandutterlydisgusting.
Gwensqueezesherhand,herthumbstrokingatBeth’spulse,andBethsmiles,closinghereyesagainstmemoriesoflastyear.
Instead,she’llthinkaboutlastnight,andbaskinthehappinessoftheirstrangelittlefamilybeforeshehastosharethem
withtheworldagain.
***
Gwen
“Oh,theresheis,”Bethwhispers,gesturingsubtlyacrosstheroomtoacircleofolderladies.
Throughthecrowdstheycanjustseeher,LadyAshmond,brightfacedandboisterous,makingaspectacleofherselfwithout
acareintheworld.She’sbeendivorcedthreemonthsandhasapparentlymadetheabsolutemostofit.Thecivilcasewas
asalaciousspectacle.Sheprovedadultery,abuse,andneglectallatonce,usingalawyerGwenisalmostpositiveFather
arrangedforhertomeet.
Nowshe’sfree,Montson’shidingupnorth,andLordAshmondhasn’tshownhisfaceinLondonatall,andisn’texpectedthis
season,outsideofafewcrucialvotes.Father’sbeengleeful.AndwhileCordeliahasgivenlipservicetothetragedyof
itall,Gwenknowsshe’sextremelyproud.
Cordeliaisamazing,andifshehelpedLadyAshmond,howwonderful.Thewoman’sstilladreadfulperson,butatleastshe’s
nolongermistreated.That’ssomething.
“Havingagrandoldtime,”Gwenagrees.
“Weshouldjoinher,”AlbiemumblesasBobbyappearswithatrayofdrinks,handingthemdowntheline.
“Thankyou,”Jamessays,hisvoicealmosttoosofttohearoverthemillingcrowd.
Theyarrivedearlyintheevening,despiteCordelia’sconcerns,andthedancinghasn’tevenstartedyet.Albiepromisedherthefirstthreetoo,soshewouldn’thavetostandonthesidelineswithoutBeth.Thoughhonestly,gettingdrunkwithAlbiesoundslikemorefunthandancing.
“They’reallstaring,”Bethwhispers.
Gwenglancesaround.Theyareattractingafairbitofattention.It’snothingnew,thedisapproval.TheHavenfortgirlsand
theirscandalousmother/stepmother,runningoutontheAshmonds.Ofcourse,Cordelialooksradiantacrossthehall,withFather
gluedtoherside.Nomorecavortingforhim.He’sthoroughlyhenpeckedanddelightedwithit.
Gwenreallycan’tgetenoughofseeingthemtogether,happyandserene.Itwasahardwinter.She’sneverseenFathersoworried—bringing
doctorafterdoctorintomakesureCordeliawashealthy.Tomakesurethatthebabywassafe.Nervesfilledtheirhome,but
now—
They’rehere.Everyoneisallright.They’vetwomoremonthsbeforethebabycomesanddecidesthefateofFather’stitle.
Andsettlesthehouseholdbets.Shewantsanothergirl,sodthetitle.ButBeth’srootingforaboy,forthevariety.Mrs.
Gilpe,Mrs.Stelm,andMissWilsonhaveawholepoolgoingwiththestaff,andshe’salmostpositiveCordelia’sthrownsomething
intoo.Fatherdefinitelyhas.
“Gwen,thecards?”
GwenabsentlypullsoutthenewsetofcardssheandBethhavebeentoilingoverforthepastfewweeks.Lastyear,shecouldn’t
bebothered,butBeth—Bethhasbroughtnewbloodtoherpartygames,andthey’regoingtomaketheabsolutemostofthisseason.
Theyneedn’tthinkaboutthebirthyet.CordeliahadBeth,afterall,andshe’sperfect.Everythingwillbefine.
“Oh,givethemtome,”Bethsays,tuggingthecardsfromherhands.
Gwentakesadeepbreath,shakingherselffromherdourthoughts.It’stimeforfun.
They’vethewholeseason,andthisyear’sroundofSpot-the-Scionwillbeoneforthebooks.
“Areyoufinallygoingtoletusplay,then?”Bobbyasks,leaningoverBeth’sshoulder.
He’shadasmuchofagrowthspurtasJames,andhasbecomeequallyhandsome.He’saheadtallerthanhernow.Hislarger
nosefitshissharpenedfeatures.AndwhileAlbieseemstohavegrownnarrowerwiththeincreasedfamilyresponsibilityof
thelastsixmonths,Bobby’sbecomequitebulky,asifhe’sspentthepasthalfyearboxingandridingandturningallof
hisfeelingsintoactivity.Thebulksuitshim.
“Onlyifyouthinkyoucankeepup,”Bethsays,holdingoutherwristsoGwencanpinthescorecardtothebackofherdance
card.
ShepassescardstoAlbieandBobby,andthenovertoJames.ShedidpromiseFatherthey’dintroducehimtopeople.Thiswill
givehimacrashcourseintheton.
Thoughshe’snotsurehe’lltrulyappreciateBeth’snewratingsystem.
BethpinsGwen’scardjustbeforethebandstrikesafewwarningchords.BobbystepsaroundthemandoffersBethhishand.
GwenkeepsholdofBeth’sfingers,grippingtightsoshecan’tstepaway.
“Don’t,”shewhines,feelingbesottedandfoolishandutterlyunembarrassedbyboth.
Bethlaughs.“Albie,showheragoodtime,wouldyou,soshedoesn’tpoutallevening?”AlbiesalutesandBethgrins,gently
pryingherfingersfromGwen’swithaplayfulsmile.ShetakesBobby’sarm.“Allright,youngman,showmeyourmoves.”
“I’vebeenpracticing,”Bobbyinsists,lettingherdraghimgamelytothefloor.
“Doyouwanttotakethefirstset?”Albieasks.
Gwenshakesherhead,glancingoveratJames.“Can’tleavethispoorsodallonhisown.Demeroven,”sheprompts,wavinghim
closersohe’snotstandingawkwardlyapart,ontheothersideoftheholeleftbyBethandBobby.“MasonwenttoOxfordas
well.”
“Right,”Jamessays.“Heardalotofgoodthingsaboutyou,”Jamessays,offeringAlbieatrulyuncomfortablesmile.
“FromLadyGwen?”Albieasks.
“No,”Jamessaysquickly.GwenlaughsandAlbiesmiles.“Imean,no,not—notonlyfromLadyGwen.Mycousinsingsyourpraises.
I—”Heshrugsandrubsatthebackofhisneck.
Albielaughs.“Noharmdone.She’samenace,”headds,nudgingGwen.“ButMissBertramisadelight.”
“Sheis,”GwenconfirmsbrightlytoJames.Albiehuffs,rollinghiseyesather.She’llneverargueoverBeth’smany,many
positiveattributes.“AndBobby’sbecomeanevenbetterdancer.”
“Hehas,”Albieagreesgrudgingly.“Youtwomighthavebeenatschooltogether,”Albiesays,glancingatJames.
“Wewere,”Jamessays,eyestrackingBobbyandBethonthefloor.
“Oh?”Gwensays,surprised.Heactedasiftheywerejustintroduced.
“Imean,Isawhim,”Jamessaysquickly,blinkingbeforeturningbacktoher.“Weneverhadclassestogether.Don’tthinkweeverspoke.What’sthisthen?”heasks,flippinghisscorecard.
“Spot-the-Scion,”Albiesays.“Firstonetocrossoffallthenamesgets—what?”
Gwengrins.“FullbettingrightsatAscot.Thewinnergetstodecidehowmuchwebetandonwhichraces,andgetstokeep
thespoils.”
“We?”Jamesasks.
“LadyGwen’sfinallydeignedtoletmeandMr.Masonintoherlittledebutantegame.What’sthetallycolumnfor?”Albieasks,
peeringathiscard.
“Oh,youhavetoratethegents,”Gwensays,laughingasAlbierollshiseyes.
“Ofcourse.”
“Andthesecondcolumn?”Jamesasks.
“Ifyouspotallthesonsinafamily,yougetabonus.We’vegotsparesgalorethisyear,”sheadds,glancingoveratBeth
andBobby.
BobbytwirlsBetharoundwithawidegrin.Thebluegown,herbeautifulbrownhair,hergorgeouseyes—God,Gwenwishesshe
couldbetheoneonthefloorwithher.Watchingisn’tbadthough.It’sgivingherallkindsofideasforlatertonight.
SheglancesatJameswhenshefeelshercheeksstartingtoheat,tryingtobanishthoughtsofafarlessverticaldance.She
meanttojustcheckinonhim,butfindshimstaringatBethandBobby,almosttransfixed.Astrangeprotectivenessrises
inhergut.Hecan’tbelookingatBeththatway.They’recousins.
Moreimportantly,Bethishers
Shetakesaswigofherchampagneandlooksbackoutattheballroom,jawclenched.Shecan’tgetjealousanytimeamanso
muchaslooksatBeth.Ifshedoes,she’llbeinastatethewholeseason.Beth’sonlybecomingmorebeautifulandgraceful,
andwithouttheweightofamatchonhershoulders,she’sdownrightjoyfullydancingwithBobbynow.
Herbeautiful,brave,smart,funnyBeth.
Noonedeservesher.NotevenGwen.Butshe’sgotheranyway,andshe’llneverlethergotosomemanpurelyforsociety’s
sake.NomatterwhatFathersays,she’snotinterestedinfindingsomeonewhowilltoleratetheir“lifestyle.”Shejustwants
theirlifetogether.
JamesisstillstaringwhenBethandBobbyfinishtheirsetandGwenfindsthatshe’sgrindingherteeth.God,howisshe
goingtomakeitthroughtheseason?
She’ssofocusedonherstupidjealousyshealmostmissesitasBobbyguidesBethbacktotheirlittlegroup.
“Youdidn’tdance,”BethaccusesAlbie.
BobbygrinsandBethandAlbietradebarbs,goingbackandforthaboutBeth’srevampedscorecards.They’vebecomefastfriends
andareendearingbanterpartners.Theycankeepawholetablegoingiftheytry.Butit’snotBethandAlbie’sreparteethat
capturesGwen’sattention.
No,it’sJamesstaringatBobbythatdoesit.Bobby’sstillflushedfromdancing,pinkcheeked,withhisbroadchestheaving
alittle.AndJames—Jameslooksgobsmacked,hotunderthecollar,and—
Oh.
Itwasn’tBethhewasstaringat.
“Come,gents,let’sgetthegirlsanotherround,”AlbiesayswhenBethhasbestedhimhandilyatsomewordplayGwenwasn’t
following.
BobbyslingsajovialarmoverJames’shouldersandgesturesforAlbietoleadtheway.Gwenwatchesastheysetoff,James
stiffbeneathBobby’sarm,Albienonethewiser.
“Youshouldhavedancedtoo,”Bethsays,loopingherarmcasuallythroughGwen’s.Shejigglesherfreewrist,herscorecard
bouncing.“I’vealreadygottheKingsmanbrothersbackfromOxford.”
“Hmm?”Gwensays,hermindzipping.
Shehasnointerestwhatsoeverinmarryingamanwhowouldsimplytolerateher“friendship”withBeth.Butmarryingaman
whohasa“friendship”ofhisown?Thathaspromise.
“Areyoulisteningatall?”Bethasks.
“No,”Gwenreplies,scanningtheballroomwithoutseeing.
IftheycouldpairJamesandBobbyoff—Bobbywhoneverseemsinterestedinwomen,who’sneverwantedtomarry—thenBethcouldhaveBobbyandGwencouldhaveJamesandtheycould—
“Gwen?”
“Doublewedding,”Gwensays,wincingasitcomesoutsharpandunprompted.
“What?”
GwengrabsBeth’shandanddragsherbacktowardthewashrooms,ignoringherprotests.Theyslipoutofthehallbutpass
thecorrectcorridor,wendingintothehousefarenoughthatGwenthinksthey’llhavesomerelativeprivacy.
“Whatiswrongwithyou?”Bethdemands.
“IthinkJamesfanciesmen,”Gwensaysonarushedwhisper.
Bethgoesstill.“Excuseme?”
“Ithinkhelikesmen,andIthinkhelikesBobby.”
“Oh,”Bethsaysslowly.“That’sunfortunate.”
“What?”Gwenexclaims.
Bethshakesherhead.“Not—God,notthat.Just—he’llneedtomarryandhaveanheir,that’sall.Unfortunateinthatsense.
Otherwise,well,Imean,menaregenerallyterriblesothere’sthattoo,”shesays,twistingherfingerstogether.“Youreally
think?”
“Ireallydo,”Gwensays.“HelookedlikeIdid,lookingatyou.”
Bethsmilesatthat.“Hmm.Somethingtokeepinmind,Iguess.I’msuretheremustbeclubshecouldgoto.”
“You’rethinkingsmall,”Gwensays,smilingasBethturnsanunimpressedlookonher.
“Excuseyou?”
“JameslikesBobby.AndBobby’snevershownasingleinterestinawoman.”
“So?”
“So…”Gwensays,waitingherout.Beth’ssharp,she’llfigureitout—
“No.No.Wealmostkilledourparents.Iamnotembarkingonanothermatchmakingscheme.Especiallysincewecan’tmarryoff
theirparentstomakesuretheycanbetogether.”
“Again,you’rethinkingsmall,”Gwensays,feelingalittlegiddywiththeidea.
Notthatshe’dhaveanythingagainstlivingwiththeirparentsforever.Butthiswouldgivethemtruesecurity,nomatter
whatgenderthebabyis.Realautonomy.Runningtwoadjoiningestates?Thepossibilitiesareendless.
“Allright,what,then?”Bethasks,soundingalittleexasperated.ItmakesGwenwanttoshoveherupagainstthewallandmakeherreallyexasperated.
“IfwegetJamesandBobbytogether,thenyoumarryBobby,ImarryJames,and…”
Bethgapesather,eyesmovingrapidly.Shetakesabreath,andthenshakesherhead.Gwenwatchesassheplaysitoverin
hermind,aquickjourneyfrompreposteroustopossibleifevershe’sseenone.
“Wherewouldwelive?”sheasksslowly.
“Youroldestate.Bobbyhasapropertynotfardowntheway.”
“Convenient,”Bethmutters.“Andyou’dbeallrightwith…James?”
“Iwouldn’tbewithJames,”Gwensaysquickly.“Itwouldbeinnameonly.They’dliveinone,we’dliveintheother,and
makeappearanceswhennecessary.Theperfectdisguise.”
Bethpursesherlips,twistingherfingersforamomentbeforeshelooksupandmeetsGwen’seyes.“Ourownhouse?”
“Torunexactlyasweplease,”Gwenentices.“Closeenoughtovisitourparents,butnotwiththem.Ourownmoney.Ourown
livesentirely.Withgoodfriendsjustupthewayforthemanlythings.”
“Husbands,”Bethsays.
“Innameonly,”Gwenrepeats.
“Ourownhouse,”Bethsays,asmilestartingtostretchoverherface.
“We’llbuildyouthattreehouse,”Gwenpromises.“Allfourofus.”
Beth’ssmileturnsintoagrinandsheleansupandkissesGwenimpulsively.Gwenlosesherselfforamomentandthengentlypullsback,glancingaround.They’realone,buttheyshouldn’ttemptanythingoutsideofthehedgerows.
“Sothat’sayes?”
“Totryingtoconvincetwoyoungmen,whowe’renotactuallypositivehavethatinclination,intoafarcemarriagesowecan
liveupinthecountry?”Bethconfirms.
“Basically.Itworkedthefirsttime.”
Bethbobsherhead.“Wehavetheseason.”
“Thewholeseason,”Gwenagrees.“Andifwefail,we’reathomewiththebaby.”
“Betterstakesthanlasttime,”Bethsayswithasmalllaugh.
“So?”
Bethconsidersherforamoment.“YouwanttomarrymethroughJames?”
“I’dmarryyouwithoutanyone,”Gwensaysquickly.Beth’slooksoftens.“Butsincethat’snotanoption,yes.I’dliketo
takeemptyvowswithJamesandgetyouinexchange,forever.”
“Metoo,”Bethwhispers.“Themarryingyoupart,notJames.”
“Thatwouldbeactuallywrong,”Gwenagrees.
Bethlaughsandtakesadeepbreath.“Okay.”
Gwenfeelsherwholebodybrighten,possibilityandloveandexcitementbuzzingthroughher.
“Okay?”
BethholdsoutherhandandGwenlaughs,takingitwithonedecisiveshake.
“Let’sgetthemtogether,”Gwensays.
Bethgrins.“Let’s.”Acknowledgments
Writingisoftenasolitaryprocess,butifyouhavetherightteambackingyouup,itdoesn’tfeelquitesolonely.Sorry
toalltheotherwritersoutthere,butmyteamisTHEBEST.
ToStacy,mywonderfulagent,fortheguidanceandencouragement,support,andexcitement,thankyou.Iwouldn’tbeherewithout
you,andI’msogladwe’reonthisjourneytogether.
ToSylvan,myfantasticeditor,youbringouttheverybestofmewithsomuchjoyandsuchgreatfun.Thankyouforbelieving
inBethandGwen(andtheirfound,belovedfamily)asmuchasIdo.
ToLarry,mychampionmanager,fortakingachanceonme,believinginme,andhikingwithmeupthissteepsteephill,thank
you.Tomanymoreyearstocome.AndDevra,thankyouforeverything.
ToWayne,lawyerextraordinaire,thankyoufortheguidanceandsupport,forreading,andforsomanywonderfulchats.
ToLeniKauffman,forthemostbeautiful,absolutewildestdreamofacover,thankyouforgivingBethandGwenthemostspectacular
come-to-life.
TotheotherincrediblepublishingprofessionalswhohavelaidhandsonDon’tWantYouLikeaBestFriend,thankyou:ErikaTsang,MayChen,TracyWilsonandMarkBurkeitt,ChristineVahaly,DiahannSturge,ShelbyPeak,AmyHalperin,DJDeSmyther,JesLyons,KalieBarnes-Young,RonnieKutys,AndyLeCount,CarolineBodkin.
Tomybetas,myfriends,mycompatriotsinthewritingandcreatingtrenches,Abby,Becca,Ben,Joe,Lindsay—youmakemebetter,
youraisemeup,youmakemelaugh,andIloveyoualltopieces.Icouldn’tbeherewithoutyou.AndIoweyousomanycupcakes.
Totheamazingauthorsandcreativeswhohavesupportedthisstory—EvieDunmore,AmalieHoward,CarlynGreenwald,Courtney
Kae,DarcyRoseByrnes—thankyousomuchforreadingandmakingthisyearsojoyful.
Tomywonderfulfriends,whohavecheeredmeonthroughoutthiswholeprocess,endlesslyencouragingandloving,youarethe
absolutebestpeoplethisworldhastoofferandIloveyousomuch.
ToDylanandDani,thankyoufortheloveandsupport,calmingwords,andbreathlessexcitement.Thankyouforbeingthere
everysinglestepoftheway.Thankyouforbelievinginme.
Mom,thankyouforallthosepatientyearsguidingmethroughessays,teachingmehowtomaketheconclusionintothethesis.
Ilookedoutforrepetitions.Dad,thankyouforthelate-nightdiscussionsofstory,beats,anddramaticarcs,andtheendless
Sondheimbefore-schoolsing-alongs.Iwouldn’tbethewriter,orperson,Iamwithoutbothofyou.
Andtoyou,dearreader,Ihopethisbookbringsyouasmuchjoyasithasbroughtme,andthatyoucanseealittlesomething
ofyourselfinitsomewhere,andimagine.
ReadonforanexcerptfromYou’retheProblem,It’sYouCominginSummer2024Bobby
Theyhaven’tinventedaliquorstrongenoughtocounteracttheabsolutebanalityofanopening-nightball.BobbyMasonstares
downintohisdrink,listeningtohisbrother,Albie,andtheirfriendLordCunninghamrecitealistofdebutantesatarapid-fire
pace,allthenamesswirlingintoalightbuzz.Bobby’snotsurehowAlbiehasmanagedtokeeptrackofthismanygirls,living
upnorthallyear.PerhapsthisiswhatMeredithdiscusseswhenthey’respendinglong,lovingeveningstogether.
Guiltovertakeshim.Heshouldn’tthinkillofhisnewsister-in-law,stuckinthecountryandunabletotravelbecauseshe’s
expectingandpoorly.Ifhe’sbeinghonest,Albie’salwaystheonebringingupengagementgossip,notMeredith.Meredith’s
adelight.Thisunendingconversationisapain.
“ButIwouldn’tputanymoneyontheSteton-Johnsonmerger,”Cunninghamsays,hisslightlynasalvoicecuttingintoBobby’s
brooding.
“Iwouldn’tbetoosure,”Albiesays,chucklingasCunninghamrollshiseyes.“LadyAnnabethgoesafterwhatshewants.She
alreadyhadtenscionslastIchecked.”
“Damn,already?”BobbygrumblesashelooksdownathisownSpot-the-Scioncard.He’sonlymanagedtospotsevensocietysons,
fourofwhomincludehimself,Albie,Cunningham,andhiscousinGwen’spartnerBeth’scousinLordJamesDemeroven.
BobbyglancesatDemerovenandfindshimstaringdownintohisownglass,narrowshouldershigh.Cunningham’sapparentlybetrothed
toanicegirlupinthecountry,sohehasnoneedtomakeamatchthisseason—thepoorluckysod.ButDemeroven,withhis
newtitle,willneedtothinkaboutsettlingdown.BobbyissureBeth’sterribleuncleiseagerforDemeroventopopoutan
heir.
Ofcourse,that’snotauniqueperspectiveinthisroom.Bobbylooksoutattheseaofdebutantes,mothers,andeligiblescions
intheimmaculateballroom.It’sallswirlsofsoftpastels,tails,andglitteringjewels.
Oh,andthere’sMr.Yokely,LordYokely’syoungerbrother.“Eight,”Bobbymumbles.HefishesthesmallpencilGwenpassed
himearlieroutofhispockettomarkhisSpot-the-Scioncard.He’sdoingprettywellforhavingspentthefirsthourdancing
withBeth—anotherteneligiblesonsspottedandhemighthaveachanceatwinning.
“Yougotanother?”Albieasks,leaninguptoseehiscard.Bobby’sgotinchesonhisolderbrothernow.It’sstillstrange
tobeabletolookdownatAlbie’slightbrownhair.
“Notmuchelsetodo,”Bobbyofferswithashrug.HedoessolovehiscousinandBethforcomingupwithsomethingtokeepthemoccupied.
Hereallyshouldbetryingharder.BethsaidthatbettingrightsandgainsattheAscotraceswouldgotothewinneroftheir
societysonstournamentthisyear.He’snotsureifthatprizeisjustamongtheextendedfamily,astheyare,orifitincludes
BethandGwen’syoungladyfriendstoo.Ifso,he’sdoomed.Hecanneverrememberenoughofthevariousheirstofillout
awholecard,andthey’veaddedthesparesthisyear,too.Atleastthegirlsgettwirledaroundtheroom,givingthemabetter
vantagepointtoscopeoutthemyriadprogenyoftheton.
HenoticesAlbiemarkingsomethingdownonhiscard.“Howmanydoyouhave?”
“Fifteen,”Albiesays,browneyestwinkling.
Bobbygroans.“Demeroven,howareyoudoing?”heasks,wantingtofeelatleastalittlebetterabouthisterriblewaywith
facesandnames.
Demerovenlooksup,hispiercingblueeyesdartingabouttofigureoutwhoaddressedhim.Helookssouncomfortable.“Um,
four?”
“Justus,then?”Albieasks,notunkindly.
“Yes,”Demerovensays,sheepish.
“Well,thatwon’tdo,”Cunninghamsays,hisroundcheeksdimplingwithaslightlyevilsmirk.“We’llhavetogetbothofyou
ladsdancing,then,won’twe?”
“Ohno.No,no,”Bobbysays,tryingtobackaway.Albiegrabshimabouttheshoulders,laughingathisexpense.“Idon’tdance.”
“YoudancedwithBeth,”Albiecounters.
“Bethisdifferent,”hesayshastily.“Shedoesn’tsteponmytoes.”
“I’msurethereareanynumberoflovelyyoungladieswhocanmanageasimplewaltzwithoutinjuringyou,”Albiesays,his
griptightening.“Whatabout—”
“Demeroven’stheonewhoshoulddance,”Bobbysaysdesperately,wincingasDemeroven’sheadsnapsup,alockofsandy-brown
hairfallingintothoseharriedblueeyes.“He’snew.Heneedstomeetnewpeople.”
“Icouldn’t,really.I’msuretheremustbe—Oh,LordHavenfort,”Demerovensays,turningwitharelievedsmileasBobbyand
Albie’suncleapproachesthem.BobbythinkshehearsDemerovenaddamuttered,“ThankChrist.”
“Gentlemen,”UncleDashiellgreets,smilingdownatallofthem.DashiellFredericBertram,EarlofHavenfort,isalmosta
headtallerthanmostofthemenintheroomand,withhisstrikingblondhairandfeatures,drawseveryeyehiswayeverywhere
hegoes.
Honestly,ifBobby’scousinGwenwantedtofindahusband,shewouldn’thavetrouble.Shegotallofherlooksfromherfather—statuesque,blond,andinstantlycaptivating.
Now,ifBobbycouldonlyspotherandherpartnerBethinthecrowd…
“Bobby,wouldyoumindterriblyifIstoleAlbert,James,andLordCunninghamaway?Thereareseveralmembersofourparty
I’dlikeyoualltomeet,”UncleDashiellsays.
AndhowcanBobbydoanythingbutnodandsmile,watchingashisonlyprotection,suchastheywere,isshepherdedawayto
moreimportantmatters?Hesupposesitwouldn’toccurtoanyofthemtoinvitehimalong.He’sofnopoliticalimport,after
all.Butthatdoesn’tmeanhecan’tbeinterested.
Bobbysighsandswigstherestofhisdrink,staringoutattheball.Albie’srunningtheestate.Albie’stakingtheirlate
father’sseatinparliament.Albie’sdoingeverythingimportant.Allthat’sleftforBobbyisthesocialseason.He’smeant
tobemakingagoodimpressionforthefamilyname,buthe’dratherbeabsolutelyanywhereelse.
Heturnsandstridesbacktothedrinkstationtoslugbackanotherwhisky.Buttheburnofthealcoholagainsthistongue
turnshisstomachandheonlydrinkshalfthedrambeforeplacingitbackonthetable.Thedoctorwasn’tpositiveitwas
thedrinkthatkilledtheirfather,butitcertainlydidn’thelp.
ThethoughtcurdlesinBobby’sthroatandheturnstosearchsomemoreforBethandGwen.Hedoesn’twanttothinkabouthis
wretchedfathertonight.NorthemessheleftforAlbietocleanup.
HejustwantstohideawaywithhiscousinandBeth.Lethimselfbebuoyedbytheirhappiness.NeitherGwennorBethneeds
tothinkaboutfindingahusband.UncleDashiellandhisnewauntCordelia,Beth’smother,havemadeitquiteclearthey’d
behappytohaveBethandGwenundertheirroof,protectedandinsulatedagainstthetonforever.Twoyoungwomen,inlove,
hidinginplainsight.
Ifonlyhisfatherhadn’tbeensuchanabsolutebrute,perhapsBobbycouldhavearrangedsomethingsimilar.Ignoringthefact
thathehasn’tyetfoundamanhe’deverconsidersettlingdownwith,ofcourse.
Butnowit’snolongerapossibility.Hisfatherisdead.Andhe’sonecarriageaccidentawayfrombeingthereigningViscount
Mason.Heneedsanotherdrink,sodwhatthedoctorssaidabouthisfather.
Heturnstomakeforthedrinkstableagain,butfindshispathblockedbyadelugeofsatinandskirts.Lady…Chiswith
(hethinks)andherdaughterhavesnuckuponhimandnowstandbetweenhimandthesweetreliefofalcohol.
“Yourfatherwassuchalovelyman,Mr.Mason.IknowIspeakformyhusbandaswellinextendingourdeepestcondolences,”
LadyChiswithsays,hernarrowfacecrinkledinsympathythatmakesBobbyitch.
Hisfatherwassofarintheoppositedirectionof“alovelyman”thatit’salmostcomical.“Thankyou,”hemanages,looking
brieflytoLadyChiswith’sdaughter,who’sfanningherselfwithabluefeathermonstrosity.
“MissChiswithwouldbemorethanhappytotakeyourmindoffyourtragicloss,ifyoufeelasthoughyouhaveenoughstrength
fordancing,”LadyChiswithsays.
BobbynoticesLadyChiswith’sdaughterpalinginmortification.Hecanrelate.Noneedtoputthemboththroughmisery.“I’m
afraidIhaven’tthestrength,”Bobbysaysseriously,tryingtoprojectAlbie’spleasant,politesmileatthewoman.He’s
sureitdoesn’tcomeoffhalfsowellonhisface.“Anothertime,”headds,lookingatthedaughter.
Hershouldersrelaxandhesilentlypatshimselfontheback.Hebowsandquicklyretreats,stridingacrosstheroomasif
hehassomewheretobe.Butevenwiththatdancedodged,heseeshungrymaternaleyestrackinghimfromeveryclusterofattendees.
Likehe’sapieceoffreshmeat.Whichhesupposesheis,thoughhe’shardlyaprize.
Thesecondsonofalightlydisgracedgamblerwithanalcoholproblem—surelythere’ssomeonebetterforthemanydaughters
attheballtonight.Butthewandering,watchfuleyessayotherwise,and,ohdear,heneedstofindthesafetyofhiscousin
andBeth,now.
Hesearchesforaflashofblondbutcan’tseeGwenanywhere.Beth’sfartooshorttofindfromthisfaraway.Heabout-faces
again,consideringheadingouttothesmallterrace,beforehenearlybumpsintoDemeroven.
Theshortermanhoversjustoutsidethehalltothevelvet-linedparlor,wheremanyofthegentlemenandparliamentarians
havesetupcampforthenight,farfromthefray.Demerovenshouldstillbeinside.BobbycanjustseeUncleDashiell’shead
inthechamberbeyond.
Instead,Demerovenhasnearlypressedhimselfbackagainstthewall,blockingBobby’smorefurtivepathouttotheterrace.
Andthoughhe’snotBethorGwen,Demerovenisstillbetterthantherovingmothers.
“Allalittlemuch?”heasks,focusingonDemeroven’sdiscomfortinsteadoflivinginhisown.
Demeroven’sheadsnapsup,thosewideblueeyesstaringupathimlikehe’sjustappearedoutofthinair.“Oh,um,atad,”
hesays,hisvoicestiff.
BobbynodstowardhissideandDemerovenmovesjerkilysoBobbycanslipintothegapbetweenhimandthepillarthatmostly
blocksthemfromtherestoftheroom.Togethertheywatchtheswirlingdancers.It’salittlequieterhereandBobbylets
himselfrelax.
He’sbeenwrackinghisbrain,buthedoesn’tremembermeetingDemerovenatOxford,thoughtheywereonlyayearapart.He
thinkshewouldrememberifthey’dbeenintroduced.ItwouldbehardtoforgetDemeroven’sstrikinggaze,patriciannose,
andthesharplineofhisjaw.Thoughperhapshe’sclenchinghisteeth?
“Anythinggoodontheagenda,youthink?”heasks,gesturingbacktowardtheclusteredparliamentarians,hopingtoputhim
atease.
Demerovenglancesathimbeforestaringbackatthefloor.“Notreally.”
Bobbywaits,butthemandoesn’telaborate.“IthoughttheMedicalActsoundedinteresting,”Bobbytriesagain.Anythingbut
talkofmarriage
Demerovenjustshrugs.“It’sallalotofchatter,really.”
Bobbystaresathim,surprised.“MybrothersaysthebriefingUncleDashiellgavehimwasratherinteresting.”
“Iguess,”Demerovensays,lookingunconvinced.
Bobbyclickshistongue.Ifhewereabouttositinparliamentforthefirsttime,hewouldn’tbedismissingalltheupcoming
billsasprattle,but…he’ssurethere’saweightofresponsibilitythatmightmakeitallseemonerous.
He’drathersitthroughahundredboringsessionsintheLordsthandance,butfine.
“Youknow,theMatrimonialCausesActlastyearhashadadramaticeffectalready.DidyouseeLadyAshmondearlier?Sheseems
tobemuchhappierasadivorcée.”
“Goodforher,”Demerovensays.
Bobbyblowsoutabreath.ThisisBeth’scousin.Hehastoextendhimsomegrace.
“Well,Ihopeyoufindanactthatpiquesyourinterest,”Bobbysays,forcinglightnessintohisvoice.“I’dhatetothink
you’dbeboredtotearsallseason.”
Demeroventoyswithhiscufflinks,eyesfixedtowardtheground.“Everytimeanyonebringsupapointthat’sremotelyinteresting,
somehowtheconversationturnstotheeventsfortheseasonandtheracingbets.Endlesstalkofracingbets.Howmenwho
makeourlawscanbesoenthralledwithmindless,vulgargambling,I’llneverknow,”hesaysinarush.
Themaniscertainlymakingitdifficult.“Surelytheremustbesomethingofinterest.Ihearthegamesofwhistattheclub
getrathercompetitive,”Bobbysays.
“Idon’tgamble,”Demerovenreiterates.
“Youdon’thavetogambletoplaywhist,”Bobbyreplies,tryingnottotakeitpersonally.“UncleDashiellsaysyouweregood
atmaths.Youmustlikecards.”
Demerovenshrugsagain,shouldersslightlyhunched.“I’mdecentatwhist,butIwon’tabideplayingformoney,notwiththem,
anyway.”
Bobbywatchesthewayhisglanceshiftsbacktotheparlor,disdainonhisotherwisehandsomeface.Thatwon’tdo.“You’ll
havetogetbetteratpretending.”
“Ibegyourpardon?”
“There’snowayyou’llsurviveattheclubswiththatattitude.Findsomething,low-stakesgames,darts—anything—tomakeyou
seemapproachable,oryou’llbemarkedfortheseason.”Demeroven’sshouldersstiffenandBobbywincesashetightenshis
jawagain.“Ionlymeant…Well,you’llneedtofindawaytosurviveattheclubsisall.Connectionsareimportant.
Icouldsuggestafewclubsthatareless…lordly,ifyoulike.”
Hestartstosaymore,buttheflatlookDemeroventurnshiswaysoursthewordsinhisthroat.Hewasonlytryingtohelp,forGod’ssake,noneedtolookathimasifhe’sdirtontheman’sshoe.
Stillstrugglingforanywaytokeeptheconversationgoing,Bobbyturnsatatouchtohiselbow.Hewiltsinrelieftofind
Bethathisside,smilingupathimwhileGwenoffersherhandtoDemeroven.
Demerovennodsstifflyatthem.“LadyGwen,MissBertram.”
Bobbynearlypushesthemanintohiscousin’sarms,watchingDemerovensedatelyescortGwenontothefloor.Theymakeastriking
coupleoncetheygetmoving,hislithebuildandhertall,statelyframe,twirlinggracefully.ItseemsunfairthatDemeroven
shouldbeboththatattractiveandagooddancer,especiallywhenGwen’salwayscomplainingthatBobby’sdancingskillspale
incomparisontoAlbie’s.Hehasgottenbetteroverthelastyear;shejustrefusestoacknowledgeit.
“Youtwogettingalong?”Bethasks,sidlingintoDemeroven’semptyspace.
Bobbylooksdownather,rollinghiseyesathereagerness.Alwayswantingthemalltogetalong,tobehappy—dreadfullyloving
ofher.Buthecan’tresistherbigbrowndoeeyes.Andwithherrichbrownhairfallinginringletsfromherbraidedbun,
she’salmostangelic.
“He’s…fine,”Bobbylies,lookingbackatthedancefloor.Can’tmissGwen,herblondhairstyledinmuchthesameway,
aheadtallerthanmostofthegirls,andinchestallerthanDemeroven,forthatmatter.
“Doyouthinkyoucouldinvitehimtovisittheclubswithyou?”Bethasks.
Bobbyturnsbacktoher,eyesnarrowed.“Why?”
“Well,hedoesn’tknowanyone.AndIrememberhowlonelyIwasinthefirstfewweeksoftheseason.Itwouldbenicefor
youtointroducehimtoafewpeople,helphimmakefriends.”
Bobbybiteshistongueagainstthehonestretort—thatmostofhisfriendshaveupandgottenmarried,thepoorlads.Cunningham
isstillabout,andPrince,somewhere,thoughhethinkshe’sheardthatPrincehasgottenengagedtoo.
“I’mnotsurehe’dliketheclubsIattend,”Bobbysaysinstead.It’senormouslytrue,butfeelssaferthanbaringhisown
lonelysoul.
It’snotthatBethwouldn’tunderstand,butshehasGwen.Aconstantfriend,alive-incompanion—theloveofherblastedlife.
Andhe’sjust…secondfiddletohisbrother,whobarelyhasanytimeforhimanymore.
“I’msurehe’dfindtheminteresting,”Bethcounters.“Please?I’dhatetoseehimfallinwiththewrongcrowd.”
Bobbysighs.Albiewouldtellhimtodoit—helpensurethatDemerovenvoteswiththeliberals,sympathetictoUncleDashiell’s
positions.HelperasethestainofthepreviousViscountDemeroven—Beth’slate,horriblefather.Anewvoiceforanewgeneration.
AndifevenBeth—whohaseveryreasontoresentDemerovenforcomingofage,inheritingherlatefather’sestate,andnearly
leavingherandhermotherdestitutelastseason—canfinditinherhearttohelphim,howcanBobbyrefuse?
HespinsthenewgoldsignetringMeredithgothim,engravedwithhisinitials,aroundonhisfingerandwatchesGwenand
Demerovencontinuedancingintoanotherset.HesupposesshowingDemeroventhetownwouldn’tbetheworstwaytospendaseason.
He’shandsomeandlearned,evenifheseemstobeadour,reticentchap.Bobbyhasalwayslikedachallenge.
“WhatdoIgetifIdothisforyou?”heasks,lookingbackatBeth.
“Theprideofajobwelldoneandapossiblyenduringfriendshipisn’tenough?”Bobbynarrowshiseyesandshelaughs.“How
aboutmyundyinggratitude?”
Bobbyhuffs,pretendingatgreaterexasperationjusttoseehereyebrowscrease.Hesolovesrilingherup.Almostasfun
asgettingGwenangry.
“Fine.”
“Oh,thankyou!”Bethsaysbrightly,wrappingherarmthroughhis.“God,doesn’tshelookbeautiful?”
HewatchesherwatchGwen,hereyeswide,asmallsmileonherface.Doting,inlove,besotted.
Gwen’snotthemostgracefulofthedancers,butthere’ssomethingintheconfidentwayshecarriesherself—andmaybealittle
inthewayDemerovenisanactuallyadequatepartner.“Shedoes,”heagrees.“Andsodoyou.”
“Oh,don’tbother—Gwenhasbeenlayingitonallnight.”
“Yes,whatahardship,tobebeloved,”hesays.
Shelaughsandsqueezeshisarm.“Shallwefindyousomeonetosingyourpraisestoo?”
Bobbyfightsashudder.“No,no,turningLordDemerovenintothetoastofthetonismorethanenoughofaprojectthisseason,
Ithink.”
Bethhums,givingherattentionbacktothedancers.
It’snotmakinglaws,ormakingadifference,butshapingLordDemerovenintoamoderatelyrespectablelordissomething,atleast.
***
James
Heclosestheheavyfrontdoortothetownhouseandrestshisforeheadagainstthecoolwood.Ifheneverattendsanother
ballinhislife,hecoulddieahappyman.Betweenthepolitics,thedancing,andtheendlessstreamofmothersanddaughters
hedisappointedwithhisutterlackofsocialflair,he’sexhausted.
DancingwithLadyGwenandhiscousinMissBertramwasn’tterrible,butspendingthenightsurroundedbytheirchatter,with
LadyGwen’scousinsLordMasonandtheyoungerMasonchimingin,wasalmostdizzying.
He’snotsureifit’sthehour,thefaintbuzzofalcoholinhissystem,orthelighting,buthethinkshismothermayhave
purchasedyetanotherbust.Thestatuesandpaintingsallseemtomeldtogetherinthenarrow,tallspaceofthefoyer.It’s
oppressive.
Butitisn’tasifhetriedtostopher.Atleastitgiveshersomethingtofocuson,nowthatshe’shereandseparatedfrom
herfriendsbackhome.Hisstepfathercouldn’twaittogettothecity,butheknowshismothertookmuchsolaceinthecommunity
she’dmadeinEpworth.
Shemayhavepurchasedherselfanentiresetofeveningballgownsfortheseason,butshedidn’tevenmakeitoutofbed
today.Herlady’smaid,MissMarina,saiditwasaheadache,buthethinksit’slikelyjustmelancholy.Theydon’tdealwell
withchange,heandhismother.
Hisstepfather,ontheotherhand—
“’Sthatyou,Demeroven?”
Jameswinces,consideringmakingabreakforitupthestairsratherthanfacingthesmoke-filledhazethatishisstepfather’s
study.Whatshouldbehisstudy.
Butifhedoesn’tfacethemannow,he’llbebangingdownhisdoortomorrow,brightandearly,demandingafullreport.So
Jamesshufflesacrossthenarrowhallandintothestudy,coughingatthesmoke.Themancouldatleastcrackawindow.
Thespaceisfilledwithheavy,halfemptybookshelves.Hisstepfatherbroughtdownhisowndark,dourchairstofacethe
enormousdeskleftbehindbythelateViscountDemeroven.Theroomhasastrange,out-of-timefeeling,halffull,halfconsidered,
halfhisstepfather’sandhalfadeadman’s.There’snothingofJamesinhereatall.
Hisstepfatherlooksupfromyetanotherfinancialledger.Eversincetheyarrived,he’sbeennose-deepinthelateviscount’s
Londonaccounting,notthathetrulyknowsthefirstthingaboutmanaginganestate.ThoughneitherdoesJames,really.
Hisstepfather’sbeadyeyespeerthroughthehaze,hisround,ruddyfacesetinascowl.“You’rehomeearly,”hegrunts.
Jamesbitesbacktheautomaticretortthatheisamanofagenowandneedn’tanswertohisstepfatheranylonger.He’sin
controlofthetitlenow.He’sthenewViscountDemeroven.Hisstepfather’s—thegentlemanMr.Griggs’—reignasregenttothe
estateisover.Jamesisabouttositinparliament,forGod’ssake.Thisis,infact,hishousenow.
Butthewordsnevermanagetopasshislips.Instead,heshrugs,likeaninsolentlittleboy.
Hisstepfatherfrownsandtakesaswigofthelateviscount’sbrandy.“DidyoumeetLordHenchey?”
Jamesshakeshishead.“No.LordHavenfortintroducedmetoafairfew,buttheywereallhislot.”
Hisstepfathergroans.“Youletthatmanwalkalloveryou,didn’tyou?Itoldyourmotheryoudidn’thavethebackbonefor
it.”
Jamestriestostraightensaidweakbackbone,curlinghisfingersintofistsashisstepfatherslipsintooneofhistried-and-true
rants.Jamesismeek.Jamesisfragile.Jamesisbadwithpeople.Jamesisn’tcutoutforthislife,andifthey’djustspoken
tothelateviscount,theycouldhaveensuredthatStepfathermaintainedofficialcontrolofthefinancesonceJamescame
ofage.Butno,Stepfatherissaddledwiththislumpofaboyinsteadofthemanheneeds.
“I’lldobetter,”Jamescutsin,hisearsringingwithphantompreviouslectures.“Tomorrow.I’llmakesuretomeetHenchey.
Brightonwasn’tthere,fortherecord.”
“Ofcoursehewasn’t.Wouldn’twastehistimewithsomethingsofrivolous.”
Jamesyawnstheatrically.“Right,well,I’mknackered.I’llseeyoutomorrowfordinner.”
Heducksoutoftheroombeforehisstepfathercangetanotherwordinandpadsbackacrossthefoyeranddownthecorridor
tothekitchen.Hecan’tfacehisbedjustyet,notwithhisstepfather’stiradestillringinginhisears.
Instead,hecollapsesatthelongoakstafftableinthered-tiledkitchenandletshisheadfallintohishands.Hejust
needsafewminutesfortheechoofhisstepfather’swords,thelatentsoundoftheorchestra,thechatterofhiscousin,
herstepsister,andtheMasonboystalkingtoofastandtoofurioustofadeaway.
Butashestaresatthebacksofhiseyelids,BobbyMason’sfacefillshismind.Hisbroadjaw,histhoughtfulhazeleyes,
hisfrownatfindingJamesaslackingaseveryoneelsealwaysdoes—
TheirchefReginaldsmacksaplateofsconesdowninfrontofJamesandhejumps.
“Jesus,”Jamessays.
Reginaldpourshimaglassofmilk,plopsitdownbesidetheplate,andstridesaroundthetabletositheavilyacrossfrom
him.HisblueeyessparklewithinterestandJameswantstohidehisfaceagain.
ReginaldhasbeenteasingsecretsoutofJamessincehewassmallandReginaldwasjustakitchenhand,plyinghimwithcookies
andshieldinghimfromhisstepfatherwheneverpossible.Oftenhisonlyrefuge,andfriend,ReginaldknowseveryoneofJames’
tells,whichisbloodyannoyingsometimes,evenasthesmellofthesconesdoesreleasethetensioninhisshoulders.
“So?”
Jamesgroansandstuffshalfasconeintohismouthtostall.
“Comeon,tellme.Isheeverythingyouthoughthe’dbe?”Reginaldasks.
Jamesfeelshimselfflush.“Shutup,”hemumbles.
Reginaldgrins,rubbinghishandstogether.Hisdimplesmakehissmilealmostirresistible,butJamesdoesnotwanttodiscuss
this.Notwhenthenightfeltlikesuchanunmitigatedfailure.
“Allright.Howwasthedancing?”
JamesstuffsanothersconeinhismouthandReginaldlaughs.
“Really?Anyoneofinterest?”
Jamesshrugs.LadyGwenwasn’taterriblepartner,thoughshehardlyseemedfocusedonhim.LadyGwenandhiscousin,MissBertram,
arethickasthievesandseemtobeabletocommunicatewithnaryaglancebetweenthem,alwayslaughingandfillingouttheir
Spot-the-Scioncards.
“Itwasfine,”hesaysafterhegetsthesconedown.Usuallythey’rehisfavorite,buthe’sparchedfromallthedancingand
alcohol.
Hetakesalongdrinkofmilk,closinghiseyestohidefromReginald’sraisedeyebrow.
“Fine,”Reginaldrepeats,waitinghimoutuntilhecan’tdrinkanymore.“Youmusthavemetsomeone.”
“LordHavenfortintroducedmetothelords,”Jamesmumbles,takinganothersconesimplytocrumbleittobitsontheplate.
“And?”
“Andtheywereratherboring,”headmits,finallylookinguptomeetReginald’seyes.“Alotofwhosewifewaswhereandwhich
daughterwasavailable.”
“Anyofthosedaughterstheonesyourmotherkeepsharpingonabout?”
Jamessighs.“Plenty.”
“Andhowmanydidyoudancewith?”
“Two?”heguesses.Hereallywasn’tpayingmuchattentiontoanyonebuthiscousinandLadyGwen.“Therestwerefriendsof
mycousin’s,andthey’reallalreadytaken.”
Reginaldreachesoutforhisownsconewithafrown.“Yourmotherwon’tbehappy.”
“Iwent,didn’tI?”
Reginaldgiveshimadisapprovinglook.Jamescrushesabitofsconebetweenhisfingers,agitated.
“There’llbeotherballs,”hesays.
Reginaldbobshishead.“Ofcourse,ofcourse.”Hetakesabiteofhissconeandchewsthoughtfully.ItalmostlullsJames
intoafalsesenseofsecurity.“AndMr.Mason?”
Jamesgroansagainanddropshishead.“Stopit.”
“You’vegottogivemesomething,”Reginaldinsists.“AllthosesummerswhenyouwerehomefromOxford,waxingpoetic,and
younevereventalkedtohim.Surely,surely,youspoketonight.”
Jamessqueezeshiseyesshut,bracinghimself,beforelookinguptomeetReginald’srampantcuriosity.“He’sfine.”
“Fine?”Reginaldhuffs.“That’sallIget?Myyearsofloyalty,mysympathybiscuits,mywordsofwooingwisdom—”
Jamesshusheshim,hisshouldersgoingupasheglancesbacktowardthefoyer.Butallisquiet,whichmeans,forbetteror
worse,nooneiscomingtosavehim.
“Tellmeyouatleastpluckedupthecouragetotalktothemannowthatyou’retangentiallyconnected.”
JamesblowsoutabreathandlooksbackatReginald.“Wetalked.”
Reginaldglowersathim.“Outwithit,Viscount.”
Thetitlemakeshimwinceandstraightenhisshouldersallatonce.He’saviscountnow.Hecanfacehiscook’steasing.He
danced,herubbedshoulders,he…madepossiblytheworld’sleastcharmingimpressiononblastedBobbyMason—
“Well?”Reginaldprompts.
“He’snosy,”Jamesdecides,returningtopickingathissconesohewon’thavetolookReginaldintheeye.“AndLadyGwen
sayshe’sapoordancer.Mycousinlikeshim,butitseemshe’strulyjustaprettyface.”
Hetrailsafingerthroughtheremainsofhissconeintheensuingsilence,hopingperhapsReginaldwilltakethatasenough
truthforthenightandleavehimbe.Instead,whenthesilencehaslastedlongenoughthatit’suncomfortable,Jamesraises
hiseyestofindReginaldwaiting,entirelyunconvinced.
“That’sit?ThegreatBobbyMason,wonderofOxford,protagonistofhalfyourstories,isjustastuffedshirt?Surelynot.”
Jamesshrugs.“Don’tknowwhatelsetotellyou,”hesays,playingatnonchalance.“He’sgottenprettymuscularsinceschool.”
Reginald’smouthtwitchesandJameshurriestoadd,“AndallhewantedtotalkaboutwastheMedicalAct.”
“That’snotenoughsubstanceforyou?”
“Andtheclubs,”Jamessaysquickly.“HekepttellingmeI’dneedtolearntogamble.”
ReginaldfurrowshisbrowandJamesworkstokeephisfaceblank.Heprobablydidn’tneedtolayitonquitesothickabout
thegambling,especiallygivenwhatLordHavenforttoldhimabouthowthelateViscountMasonwastedawaytheMasonfortune
beforehisuntimelydeath.Buthedoesn’twanttotalkabouttheclubs,doesn’twanttothinkabouthavingtohobnobwith
moreofthesemeninsmall,crowdedspaces.Doesn’twanttoconsiderthemjudginghimandfindinghimaslackingashisstepfather
does.
Andsincehedoesn’tliketofrequenttheusualclubs,hehardlythinkshe’llgetalongwithBobbyMason,whoseemstobe
allaboutthem.BetterthatheneverdiscovershowlittleBobbyMasoncouldcareforhim.
Notthathe’sbeendreamingofmeetingthemansinceschool,onlytofindhimselftongue-tiedandanxioustothepointof
rudenessinthefaceofhisbeautyupclose.No.Hejustsimplydoesn’tcarewhatBobbyMasonthinks.Hedoesn’tcarewhat
anyonethinks.It’seasierthatway.
“Well,ifBobbyMasonisn’tthecatchwethought,werethereanyotherprettyfacestoconsider?”
Jamesglancesbacktowardthehallwaytothefoyeragainandwaits,listening.Butthey’restillsafelyalone.
“Notreally,”hesays,turningbacktoReginald.“Wasn’talotoftimetolookortalktoanyoneoutsideofLordHavenfort’s
lords,andthey’re…”
“Notwhoyou’relookingtomeet,”Reginaldagrees.“Well,Thomas’standinginvitationisstillthere.Hewouldlovetohave
youattheclub,introduceyoutosomenicegentlemen.”
Jamesfeelshisshoulderscomingbackup.“Right.”
Reginald’seyessoften.“It’llbejustlikebackhome,onlyfancier.You’llsee.”
“Iguess,”Jamessays,thinkingofthesmallbackroomattheInsideInnnearEpworth.Thecomfortablechairs,thewornwooden
table,thebackdoorthatledouttothewoods.Safe,guarded,secluded.
Hecan’timaginehowReginald’sbrother,ThomasParker,couldpossiblycreateaspacethatsecretorcomfortableinLondon.
Hisclubissupposedtobethesafestrefugeformenofacertainpersuasioninthecity.ButJamesdoesn’tknowhowthat
canbetruewhenitfeelslikethereareeyeseverywhere.
“Giveitsomethought,that’sall,”Reginaldsays.Hepushesbackhischairandgetsup.“It’snotlikeyou’regoingtomeet
anicemanelsewhere.”
Jamesnodsandlooksbackdownathisplate,thecrumbsofhissconetoocloselyresemblingtheshamblesofhislife.
“Whatwouldyoulikepressedfortomorrow?I’lltellGabrielonmywaytobed.”
Jamesletsoutalowmoan.He’dalmostforgotten.“Idon’tcare.”Heputshisheadbackintohishands.
“Comenow,it’syourveryfirstday.Weneedtomakeagoodimpression.”
Jamesistemptedtotellhimtosodoff,butheknowsReginaldisright.Evenifjusttokeephisstepfatheroffhisback,
heneedstomakesomeeffort.“Nothingmymotherboughtme.Classic,elegant,simple.”
“Aye-aye,”Reginaldsaysmerrily,drawingJames’gazeuptofindhimposed,handsonhiships.“We’llmakeyouthebest-dressed
younglordinparliament.Onmyhonor.”
“Sodyourhonor,”Jamessaysgruffly,laughingdespitehimselfasReginaldletsloosealow,rumblychuckle.Theman’stoo
charmingforhisowngood.
“Getsomesleep,yeah?Gabrielwillhaveeverythingreadycomemorning.”
JamesforcesasmileandwatchesReginaldheadouttheservants’dooranddowntowardhisroom.Tonightwasexhausting,and
tomorrowpromisestobeevenworse.Him,asittinglord?Him,makinglaws?Him,theblockheadwhocouldn’tevenbecharming
tothemanhe’sfanciedsinceuniversity—howisheeversupposedtoimpresstheHouseofLords?
AbouttheAuthor
EMMAR.ALBANisanauthorandascreenwriter.RaisedintheHudsonValley,shenowlivesinLosAngeles,enjoyingtheeternalsunshine,
ocean,andmountains.Whensheisn’twritingbooksorscreenplays,shecanusuallybefoundstress-bakingwiththeAConfull
blast,skiinglateintothespring,singingshowtunesatthetopofherlungsonthefreeway,andreadinganywherethere’s
somewheretolean.Don’tWantYouLikeaBestFriendisherfirstnovel.
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Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Referencestorealpeople,events,establishments,organizations,orlocalesareintended
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aredrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.
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