A Breach of Promise (The Rules of Engagement #1)(7)

“Twenty is hardly ancient. I have time.”

“Time passes quickly, Mariah. Just look at me, three-and-twenty and still unwed. I’d hate for you to follow my example.”

“But you at least are betrothed.”

“Was betrothed.”

“Aren’t you speaking prematurely? Lord Marcus has agreed to nothing at this point.”

“That will change soon enough. I promise you I will end this great sham at last. I refuse to wait one moment longer on a man who doesn’t want me, regardless of his recent and remarkable protestations to the contrary.”

“Do you intend to seek another husband then?”

“I have little choice now. Had I been married, my home might have passed on through me to my son, but since I am in such an unsettled state, all passes instead to Cousin James. I need a home of my own, and I desire children. My wishes should be simple enough to satisfy. Though I once dreamed of a love match, I only now hope for a man who treats me with kindness, courtesy, and a modicum of respect—none of which have I ever seen from Lord Russell.”

Mariah took her cousin’s hand. “You would settle for so little, Lyddie, when you deserve so much?”

Lydia acknowledged her cousin’s concern with a brief squeeze. “I have moved beyond romantic fantasy, Mariah. One must be pragmatic at my age. I would be content with at least the respect of my husband. Given that, affection is sure to follow.”

“Have you already someone else in mind?”

Lydia gave a brief half-smile. “The new vicar, Reverend Thomas Capshaw, seems a very good man, does he not?”

Mariah laughed outright. “You, a vicar’s wife?”

Lydia looked injured. “And why not?”

“I just think you would find it dreadfully stifling. You are by far too liberal-minded and free-spoken is all. Uncle Timothy gave you more license than is usually permitted a woman and I doubt the Reverend Capshaw would be quite so generous-spirited.”

Lydia considered her cousin. “Perhaps you are right, Mariah, but he still seems my best prospect at present. While I have a respectable dowry, I lack your title and properties to attract any higher suitors.”

“At least you don’t have to fear fortune hunters.”

“Poor dear, to be accursed with a title of your own, a large estate and a monstrous fortune,” Lydia teased.

“But it is a curse, don’t you see? When I wed, I want it to be for my person not for my purse. ‘Tis why I prefer the obscurity of the country.”

“But you have no prospects at all buried at Morehaven as you are. And that is precisely why you shall accompany me to London.”

*



My Dear Lord Russell,

In appreciation of your desire to conduct our business in person, I accept your invitation to visit your dearest mother, Lady Russell. My cousin Lady Mariah Morehaven will accompany me.

Yours,

Miss Lydia Albinia Trent



While Lydia did her best to suppress her awe, she had never traveled in such a well-sprung and elegantly appointed equipage. Moreover, the crested coach and six had virtually flown over the post roads, making the sixty-mile journey from Cotesfield Hall to London in less than six hours.

Russell House, a three-story brick manse, was one of the more prominent residences of Bloomsbury Square, dating to the last century, when the Russell family had begun to develop their extensive London holdings. Only Bedford House itself, sitting as proudly as a ducal cornet at the north-center of the square, surpassed it in splendor.

A small army of velvet-liveried footmen met the coach when it clattered to a halt on the cobbles under the portico. While two assisted the ladies to alight, the rest attended to the extensive baggage. Another servant briskly ascended the stairs to announce the arrival to Lady Russell who wafted down the staircase to greet her guests.

“My dear, dear child! Look at you, a woman grown.” Bussing Lydia’s cheeks in the Continental manner, she turned to Mariah. “How lovely to meet you at last, Baroness Morehaven.”

The young woman curtseyed with a becoming blush. “Just Mariah, please, my lady.”

“Then you must also address me as Philomena. You must be exhausted after your journey. Would you care for refreshment or would you prefer a brief respite before supper?”

Looking from her cousin to her hostess, who appeared brimming with expectation, Mariah answered with a smile. “You both have much to catch up on. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a short rest.”

“Absolutely, my dear. The rooms are prepared and the servants will anon tend to the unpacking. Pray consider my home your own. Dobbs will escort you.” A wave of her hand executed the command. “An exceedingly tactful miss is your cousin,” Lady Russell remarked to Lydia.

“I only wish it ran in my side of the family.” Lydia laughed.

“Never say so, child. You are very much like your mother who had your same charming and refreshing lack of guile. Now, we do have much to catch up on. Perhaps we should take tea in my private chambers?”



Lady Russell was aghast. “You mean to tell me you have not laid eyes on Marcus for six years?”

“Indeed so. He only came once after our betrothal to pay his respects to my father. Although to be fair, they did maintain an ongoing, if somewhat sporadic, correspondence. I have heard nothing more from him before these last few months.”