“The decision is made. I’m betrothed to Mr. Galbraith and that’s that,” Lily said firmly.
“It’s not over until you’re married,” Rose muttered.
“It’s not over until his ring is on her finger and she wakes up in his bed in the morning,” George said. “That’s what my granddad made sure of when he forced my father to marry my mother.” She shook her head. “Forcing people is bad. My father didn’t want to be married—he left my mother soon afterward and it fair broke her heart. So much misery, and all to make sure I was legitimate. And so that Mama wasn’t ostracized as a fallen woman.” She gave Lily a somber look. “But I don’t blame you, Lily. Being a fallen woman . . .” She shivered. “I knew one once, nice girl she was too, from a good family. She ended up drowning herself rather than face a daily shunning from all those who used to be her friends.”
“George!” Rose interrupted. “You’re supposed to be reassuring Lily that she doesn’t have to marry Mr. Galbraith, not frightening her with grim tales.”
“No, I’m not,” George retorted. “It’s not up to me who Lily does or does not marry. It’s her life and her decision.”
“And yet according to you the alternative is daily shunning—not that that would happen. If anyone dared to shun my sister, I . . . I’d slap them. Or worse,” Rose said fiercely.
“Nobody will need to slap anyone,” Lily said. “George is right, Rose. It’s my decision, and whatever the consequences, I’ll deal with them. Myself.”
There was a short silence.
“You’ve changed,” George said. “Somehow, you’re . . . tougher.”
Lily glanced at Rose and saw that her sister agreed. “Being abducted and drugged and locked under a seat for several days, well, it makes one think. All my life people have looked after me, but when it comes to the crunch—to the big things in life—you’re essentially on your own. I used to worry more about what people thought of me, but now I realize how futile that is. People will think what they want to think, regardless. I did nothing wrong, and I still ended up in a mess.”
Rose pounced. “So you do admit it’s a mess. Then you don’t have to marry—”
“It’s done, Rose. Like it or not, my reputation is ruined. Stop worrying about me and consider the implications for yourselves. Remember how Emm used to tell us what one of us did reflected on the others?”
Rose gave her a worried look. “I hope you’re not marrying for my sake. It’s not worth it.”
“Doesn’t matter to me what people think.” George fondled Finn’s ears. “I don’t plan on getting married anyway.”
Lily glanced at Rose, but she said nothing more. Rose never talked about her marriage prospects these days. When they were girls at school she used to talk about it constantly—they both did, dreaming of whom they might marry. Now it was Aunt Agatha who harped continually on about Rose’s marriage prospects. Rose rarely spoke of it at all.
Lily slipped an arm around her sister’s waist. “I’m not getting married for your sake, Rose. I’m marrying Mr. Galbraith for my own reasons. So stop fretting and be happy for me.”
Rose sighed. “I’ll try.” But she didn’t sound very confident.
• • •
Three and a half weeks to the wedding didn’t leave much time to order a new dress and make all the arrangements, but when the three girls and Emm arrived at the House of Chance, Daisy Chance, the owner, laughed at their anxiety and assured them she’d make something special in plenty of time.
“I’m thinkin’ lace, Lady Lily, over creamy satin—white’ll make you look sallow, but cream will make your skin glow like a pearl. Short puffed sleeves and a satin band here.” She gestured with her hands. “What do you think?”
“It sounds lovely.” Every dress Miss Chance had made her made Lily feel beautiful, and she trusted this would be the same.
The dressmaker eyed her shrewdly. “I reckon you’ve lost a bit of weight, Lady Lily. If you’d care to step into the fitting room, I’ll measure you up again.” She drew back the green velvet curtains and escorted Lily to the fitting rooms at the back of the shop.
She bustled about, taking Lily’s measurements and making small talk, which Lily responded to absently. It was so uncomfortable, preparing for a wedding that none of her family was happy about. It should have been a joyous occasion, but instead, everyone was pretending.
Rose and George had conceded that Edward wasn’t quite as bad as they thought; yes, he’d defended her against Aunt Agatha—they did like that. But they knew he wasn’t in love—he’d made no pretense that he was—and they were upset that Lily would never get her happy ending. They were still certain she was infatuated with an imaginary version of Mr. Galbraith.
She couldn’t help what they thought. She would marry him, and then love would grow, and they would see what a wonderful, kind, protective husband he would be.
“You all right there, Lady Lily?” Miss Chance asked. “Something on your mind?”
“Oh, no, I was just—just thinking about a book I read recently,” she lied. She couldn’t possibly share her doubts and worries with Miss Chance, be she ever so nice and friendly.
“What was it called? Lift your arms, please—yes, that’s right.”
“Persuasion, by—”
“By the author of Pride and Prejudice.”
“Yes, have you read it too?”
Miss Chance wrote some measurements in a little book. “Not yet. We’ve started it, but we’re only into the first couple of chapters. How’s that Sir Walter—don’t he love himself? Mind you, I have one or two clients just like him. It’s what I like about her characters—they’re just like people you know.”
They chatted about the book for a few minutes, then Lily said, “You said, ‘We’ve started it.’ Who is ‘we’—if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It’s a group—a literary society I go to, run by me—by a lady I know. Several ladies take it
