Page 48 of No Ordinary Lady

Lady Scarsdale turned to look at her directly. “One can always learn to dance properly, Miss Trill.”

“Yes, Lady Scarsdale. I would hope I’m not a lost cause if I had proper instruction.”

“I believe there’s hope for anyone to make a good match. Take my son, for example. I was sure I would have to wait another ten years for him to remember his duty and choose a bride, but he’s at last come to his senses.”

“Have you always hoped he’d marry Miss Wilson?” Marian dared ask, already believing she knew the answer.

But Lady Scarsdale shook her head. “I always hoped he’d find someone compatible, but in all his years in London, he gave no sign of forming a lasting attachment to any woman he met there.”

Mrs. Nolan leaned forward. “So, if he had met someone else first, you’d forgive him for not marrying Amy Wilson?”

“At this stage, that is highly unlikely,” Lady Scarsdale said, and then turned to look at Mrs. Nolan, eyes widening. “Has he said anything to you that suggests otherwise?”

“No. No,” Mrs. Nolan promised, leaning back in her chair. “But I will still hope for a love match for the boy until my very last breath.”

Marian kept her gaze fixed on her book and pretended to read. Marriages among the aristocracy seemed to be a cold, practical business. Openly discussed as if that was completely normal, too.

“Mother, do you know if Scarsdale returned with a special license to marry Amy?”

Mrs. Nolan shook her head. “He did not, to my knowledge.”

“Then the marriage will take place in a month,” Lady Scarsdale said, with great satisfaction. “That gives me time to prepare.”

“Or more than a month,” Mrs. Nolan argued. “And by the look of his progress, it will be another day before we hear of a proposal taking place.”

Marian looked around to see Danny and his future bride begin another arc around their position. Keeping in full view and doing nothing particularly romantic to her prejudiced eye. “They seem pleased with each other’s company at least,” Marian said for want of something to say to add to the conversation. “Where will they be married?”

“There is a chapel near the Wilsons’ estate grounds where all the members of her family have married,” Mrs. Nolan told her.

“A wedding in the estate chapel would be my preference,” Lady Scarsdale argued. “That is where the late Lord Scarsdale and I were married, and his father before him, too.”

“That is your tradition,” Mrs. Nolan said. “I recall hearing Miss Wilson exclaim she wanted to follow in her own family footsteps when she wed.”

That brought on a deepening of Lady Scarsdale’s near perpetual look of concern, but it was replaced with a determined expression. “I’m sure my son will honor his father and make a marriage in the estate chapel.”

“He might if she gives him any say in the matter,” Mrs. Nolan murmured darkly, as if she suspected he would not. “Miss Wilson has strong opinions and is almost as stubborn as you. She’ll probably wear her mother’s wedding gown to honor her on their special day, even though yours is far more suitable for a future countess.”

Marian had attended only one country wedding and was feeling uncomfortable sitting around discussing an event that was still only a dream. Danny had to actually propose to his neighbor for any wedding preparations to start, surely.

“It will be a grand event no matter where, and no matter what Miss Wilson wears, I’m sure,” she said.

“Yes, I intend for everything to be perfect when my son weds,” Lady Scarsdale promised. “I’ve had it all planned out for years.”

“Right down to the flower arrangements and the polishing of the servants’ boots,” Mrs. Nolan added with a warning nod in Marian’s direction. “Where they will take their honeymoon has long been decided, too. She was this way for her own wedding day. Drove me to distraction, as I had nothing at all to do but attend.”

Lady Scarsdale seemed a managing sort of woman, and Miss Wilson was much the same. “Was it as wonderful as you hoped?” Marian asked. “Your wedding day, Lady Scarsdale?”

“Yes, as was my marriage,” Lady Scarsdale promised, raising her fingertips to her lips. “My husband was everything I wanted in a match. Kind, thoughtful and he loved me to distraction.”

“You were luckier than most, I expect,” Marian said. “I mean, you were luckier than your son will be.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, it’s clearly not a love match between them, is it?” she said, looking over at the pair who were walking at a distance from each other. “Miss Wilson doesn’t act like she’s in love with your son. If I were in love with him, I’d not hesitate to show him how I feel every moment.”

Lady Scarsdale frowned for quite some time before she replied, “Love always takes time.”

Marian wasn’t sure about that. Love was there from the start, or it wasn’t at all. It was something that could never be faked, or if it was, then it would never bring true happiness to either party.