Page 26 of A Desperate Proposal

Arabella’s face went strangely blank, then she frowned. “Of course, we must get your face cleaned up. But you mustn’t go to bed yet. I overheard Henry and Papa.” She seized Elinor’s arm to pull her up. “There’s to be an announcement! So, none of this with Lord Asherton really matters now anyway.”

An announcement? A few weeks ago, the words would have sent her into a rapture. This was what she’d hoped for! She would marry Henry, be a vicar’s wife, live in a house, and never have to worry about a far-away war. Only mistresses and secrets… But that was still better than being a spinster and being sent back home. Of no use to anyone. But all she felt now was resignation. Had the Earl of Asherton taken that from her, too?

“All right,” she said, carefully levering herself to her feet. “Where should we go?”

“I’ll take you to the changing room. There’s a basin in there, I think. Or I can ask for one. We’ll say you got a spot on your petticoat. If anyone asks about your face, say you hurt your ankle again. At least people will stop pestering me about whether you’re really not dancing tonight.” She kept chattering away, leading Elinor to the desired direction without further ado.

If anyone noticed, she didn’t see. Everyone passed by in a blur of color and a din of distant laughter. Somehow Arabella got her to the edge of the ballroom. Then the sound of clapping hands and clinking glasses washed over them. Elinor woke from the trance, and her head snapped towards the noise. Lord Summersby stood by the massive marble fireplace, his jovial countenance at perfect odds with Elinor’s mood.

“May I have everyone’s attention!” His deep voice boomed in the way only a general’s could. A hush fell over the guests, and Elinor, as if just realizing what was happening, stood straighter, her eyes finding Henry standing only a few feet away from Lord Summersby, though he was half concealed by her uncle’s large frame. “Firstly, I should like to thank…”

“I finally found you two.” Alexander edged up beside them, his voice a whisper. His smile fell away as his eyes swept over Elinor, and his gaze darted over her head to Arabella, silently demanding answers. The general’s speech continued, but she was so focused on Alexander’s concern, she barely noticed. “Who told you?” he demanded. “Do you already know?”

“Know what?” Arabella whispered back before being hushed by a woman in front of them.

“Oh, hell. We should go to the terrace before—”

“And finally, it is my honor to announce that Mister Henry Weston, son of Dr. Edward Weston, is to be married to Miss Georgiana Mitford of—”

“Alexander is right,” Arabella said, ignoring another hush from their neighbor. “Let us return to the terrace.”

Is that what they were doing? It seemed such a strange dream. Her eyes fixed on Henry, smiling and blushing, waving off a hooted congratulations from some other young man. This can’t be real. Her uncle moved aside as others rushed forward to embrace and tease them, and it was then that she saw the girl—beautiful with shining jet-black hair and bright emerald eyes to match her silk gown—standing beside her future husband, beaming with happiness. As she floated away, being pulled by her cousins, Henry’s head turned and their gazes locked.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. Remorse? Regret? Not a razor-edged smile. Never that.

In a rush of sound and air, Elinor was awake again just as Alexander and Arabella dragged her over the threshold, into the cooler evening air. “Georgiana Mitford?” Arabella’s voice dripped with outrage. “I didn’t know Henry was that desperate for money. You could have told me, Alexander. Really. I wouldn’t even have shoved her out of a carriage.”

“I only found out a few minutes before the announcement. I tried to find you, but you’d both disappeared.” He waved off Arabella and put his hand on Elinor’s arm to keep her steady. “I know you are disappointed, Ellie, but it is for the best. Truly. You might not believe that now, but—”

“What am I going to do?” She leaned on Alexander, pointing to the nearest stone bench. She needed to sit. Even though the dull throb in her ankle was likely keeping the agony in her chest at bay. As he helped her down, she thought on Tristan’s words. The roads she didn’t walk, the paths she closed off. All to secure a future that no longer existed. What was the point of it all? His lectures on how to be a good wife, his gifts, his warnings? He was smart enough to know, like everyone else, what she’d taken it all to mean. “There’s nothing … no other road.”

“Road?” Arabella made a face. “Alex, maybe you should fetch some punch for her. Or brandy?” She rummaged through her tiny reticule and produced a familiar opaque vial. “Do you need smelling salts?”

“No.” Elinor needed answers. Her life made sense only an hour ago. Now it lay in shambles. She needed a plan. She did not need smelling salts. Those were about five years too late. “I should have heeded you both. You tried to warn me. I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to. I wanted so much to be part of your family that I—”

“You are our family, Elinor.” Alexander crossed his arms. “Notice how we’re out here with you and not congratulating our poxy cur of a brother.”

“Is this because Mary was always such a pompous little prig about being Miss Weston?” Arabella grimaced.

Elinor laughed helplessly. “This has nothing to do with Mary.”

“Honestly, what does go on in your head, Elinor? I should think the family tree and our mothers being sisters were a clue you’re family…”

“I just didn’t want to be a Harcourt anymore. I was…” Ashamed. To come from nothing. To be poor, living in the charitable good graces of her more fortunate uncle. One wrong move, any bad behavior, and she’d be back to nothing. She clutched her gown to keep from tugging her curled hair. “I believed him. I thought he was telling me the truth. But all this time, he was making a fool of me.”

“I suspect he didn’t anticipate Georgiana Mitford being an actual fool,” Arabella said tartly. “He doesn’t even have a living yet, and no money. The only reason she could possibly accept such a match is either a decade long engagement or…” She trailed off, and a smirk appeared. “Or Henry has been bestowing green gowns as well as gold crosses. I wonder if we will be welcoming a niece or a nephew?”

“Bella!” Alexander’s reproof lacked heat enough to chasten his sister who only sniffed at him. “Where’d you even hear that phrase?”

“I do live with three brothers.” She turned back to Elinor. “Well. At least there was no public engagement, so nobody but the family need be concerned about your part, Elinor. You’ll be quite free to find a new suit.”

“It doesn’t matter.” How many times would she have to say those words tonight? She might start to believe them soon. I’ll be twenty years old next Season. Can I brave Town and compete with Arabella at her debut? Lord Asherton seemed earnest when he said she might be able to marry a viscount, but she didn’t need to aim so high as that. Someone of means who could support her. That was all Elinor needed.

But look how bad I am at flirting with Asherton! And I even like him. She had no assurance she’d like any member of the Ton, or anyone else. Her heart had never quickened pace for anyone else. What if it never performed such feats again? “I suppose I could always be a governess.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake.” Arabella’s nose wrinkled and her lips turned down in disgust. “Don’t be so outrageous. Just marry Alex. He’s not doing anything worthwhile anyway.”

“Hold on!” Alex wheeled around to stare at his baby sister. “First of all, that is not true. Secondly, with all my love for you, Ellie … No.”