“No, I am not,” Marianne agreed firmly. “I dread attending balls and soirées.”
“You are the daughter of a marquess now,” Martin said. “It is expected of you to attend these social functions, and to do so with a smile on your face.”
Marianne let out an unladylike groan. “That sounds miserable.”
Kate interjected, “Well, we should be on our way.”
Martin offered them a slight bow. “As usual, I have enjoyed our chats,” he said cordially.
Turning her gaze towards Hannah, Marianne asked, “Will you please come call on me?”
“Is your mother allowing visitors?” Hannah questioned.
“She is,” Marianne confirmed with a bob of her head.
“Then I shall call on you tomorrow.”
Marianne clasped her hands together. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Thank you.”
Martin shook his head. “I should be offended that you haven’t been enjoying my company.”
“Do not take offense where none is intended,” Marianne remarked. “I’ve just been missing my dear friend.”
Hannah smiled at her. “Until tomorrow, then.”
With a parting glance at the Pembertons, Hannah and Kate resumed walking down the pavement. Hannah was pleased she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself around Martin. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always the case.
2
Martin Pemberton, the Earl of Egleton, watched his sister as she stared out the window of the coach. He couldn’t help noticing the small frown on her lips, nor could he ignore the deafening silence.
“Whatever is the matter?” he asked.
Marianne brought her gaze to meet his. “Why do you suppose something is wrong?”
He lifted his brow in response. “You’ve hardly spoken a word since we ran into Hannah and Kate.”
“That’s true.”
“Out with it,” he ordered.
Marianne sighed. “I’m tired of being cooped up in our townhouse,” she said. “I want to be able to ride my horse through Hyde Park, just as I did before Grandfather died.”
“But you are in mourning.”
“Half-mourning,” she corrected, “but Mother and I do not agree on what is appropriate during this stage.”
“You and Mother have never seen eye to eye before.”
“I am well aware of that fact, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have a desire to change my situation.”
“Sadly, we can’t leave Town while the House of Lords is in session,” he reminded her. “Father has taken up his seat and has responsibilities here.”
“Perhaps I can convince Mother to depart for our country estate early.”
“You could always try, but I daresay she won’t leave Father.”
Marianne slumped back in her seat. “You’re right, of course, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“You could always spend your time perfecting your needlework,” he suggested.
She shot him an exasperated look. “Why must I have been born a girl?” she asked. “I have no true freedoms, and my only grand accomplishment out of life will be if I marry well.”
“Marriage would bring security for you.”
“Perhaps I wish to remain a spinster,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.
“That will be your choice,” he said. “I’ll ensure you are always taken care of, regardless of your circumstances.”
“You are too kind, but I’m afraid I want more out of this life than what is expected of me.”
“What is it you want?”
“I’m not sure, but I do know that I don’t want to live a dull, predictable life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with predictable,” he attempted.
She blew out a puff of air. “I disagree,” she replied. “It sounds entirely un-fun.”
Before he could respond, the coach came to a stop in front of their whitewashed, three-level townhouse. A black iron fence surrounded the property and three stairs led up to the main door.
A footman opened the coach door and Martin stepped out, then he reached back to assist his sister.
The main door opened as they approached, and their butler greeted them politely. “Good afternoon,” Moreland said.
Martin led his sister into the entry hall before dropping his arm. “Good afternoon,” he replied as he reached for the top hat on his head.
Moreland closed the door and turned towards them expectantly. “Would you care for some refreshment?” he asked as he accepted the proffered hat. “I am pleased to inform you that Mrs. Snarey has whipped up a fresh batch of biscuits.”
“No, that won’t—” he started.
Marianne interrupted, “Yes, I would.”
Moreland tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I will see to it, milady.”
“Thank you.” Marianne glanced over at Martin. “I am not one to turn down biscuits, for any reason.”
Martin smiled at his sister. “I do not fault you for that,” he replied.
His mother’s voice drew his attention. “I am glad to see that you are finally home,” Frances, Lady Darby, said in exasperation as she walked gracefully down the stairs. She was dressed in a black crepe gown with a black cap covering her fading brown hair.
“That we are,” Martin confirmed.
“I would have preferred it if you had sent a footman to pick up the package from the milliner’s.”
“I am well aware, but Marianne was rather insistent on going herself,” Martin replied.
His mother turned a disapproving look towards Marianne. “I would be remiss if I did not remind you that it is entirely inappropriate to be in Society during this time.”
“Grandfather hated mourning traditions,” Marianne argued. “He thought they were rather ridiculous and didn’t want us to put our lives on hold.”
“Be that as it may, it is our privilege to grieve for him properly,” her mother pressed. “It makes me truly wonder if you miss him at all.”
Marianne visibly stiffened. “If you will excuse me, I find that I need some time alone,” she declared.
“That was terribly unfair of you to say,” Martin said as he watched his sister walk away.
His mother’s stance softened slightly. “Perhaps I did go too far with that last comment.”
“We are all grieving Grandfather in our own way.”
“I find that I miss him dreadfully,” she admitted.
“As do I.”
She turned to face him. “Your father is waiting for you in the study,” she informed him. “He wishes to speak to you before he adjourns to the House of Lords.”
“Then I’d best not keep him waiting any longer.” He headed towards the rear of the townhouse where
