June Calvin (21 page)

His sister-in-law’s response to that suggestion did not surprise him, however. “Certainly not! Once was quite enough!” Deborah’s full lips firmed with determination.

“Ah, well.” Vincent, embarrassed, skirted any discussion of her marriage. He was ashamed of his late brother’s cruelty to his wife. So far they had managed to prevent it from being generally known, and pride demanded that he keep it thus. Such behavior, while lawful, was frowned upon by the
ton.
Fortunately, Deborah hated scandal as much as she hated her husband’s memory, so she could be counted on to continue to say nothing.

“Then our business is at an end. Will you stay to nuncheon?” He stood.

It was a pro forma invitation, as both knew. Deborah avoided her in-laws whenever possible, and they were content to have it so. Making a polite excuse, she escaped to the hall, where Croyden dispatched a footman to bring her mare around. Deborah fled the butler’s company, pacing the front portico until Buttercup arrived. Croyden had been an avid observer of her tumultuous, unhappy marital struggles at Woodcrest too many times for her ever to be comfortable in his presence.

How would she tell Jennifer?
Deborah felt the tears sting her cheeks as she made the short ride to the dower house. Her daughter abhorred the idea of marriage; though Deborah had tried to reassure her that not all men would behave as her father had done, the child had seen too much not to dread putting herself into any man’s power.

She was relieved that Jennifer was not in the house when she arrived. She washed the tears from her face and changed from her heavy black riding habit into a cool summer morning gown before seeking her daughter in the most likely place, their garden.

Her heart rose in her throat as she saw Jennifer romping about with her King Charles spaniel puppy. Her light brown curls were bouncing, her cheeks flushed from her pleasurable exertion. She was a child, just a child. To have to marry so soon!

But they would have to do as Vincent commanded, of course. He was Jenny’s guardian. He was not deliberately cruel as his brother, Seymour, had been, but he had little true feeling for women’s sensibilities, and such as he had was quite used up in concern for his two insipid daughters.

A few minutes of thought had brought Deborah to the conclusion that it was not dislike of administering Jenny’s fortune that caused Vincent to hurry her toward marriage. No, Jenny must marry while still a child so that Lettice and Patience would not have to compete with their beautiful, well-dowered cousin in the marriage mart.

“What is it, Mother?” With her usual sensitivity, Jennifer rushed up to Deborah as soon as she caught sight of her. “Why are you so Friday-faced? Does Uncle Vincent want you to play at some party or something?”

“No, Jenny, it is much more serious than that.” Deborah led her daughter to the bench beneath the willow tree, where it was marginally cooler on this warm summer day.

When she had explained her brother-in-law’s edict, Jenny threw herself on her mother’s breast, weeping. “I don’t want to. I don’t want to marry, ever!”

“Now, Jenny, we have discussed this.”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Just because I had an unfortunate marriage does not say that you will. We shall just have to choose your husband with great care. At any rate, you don’t wish your uncle to choose. He would focus upon a title and a fortune, without regard for whether his candidate and you would suit.”

Jenny sat up, her lower lip trembling. “I’m afraid, Mother.”

Deborah nodded, staring off into the distance toward the magnificent outlines of Woodcrest, where she had been brought as a young, innocent bride a little more than nineteen years ago. She had been afraid then, too, and with good reason. Her parents had chosen Seymour for her. He had seemed a good choice—handsome, titled, wealthy, witty, sophisticated. They had forgotten to inquire if he had a heart.

“If you will allow yourself to be guided by me, Jenny, I do not despair of finding a man who will treat you well. I believe I have gained some insight into the sex.”
Dearly won,
she thought.
Oh, so dearly won.

Jenny nodded fervently. “I will, Mother.”

Deborah patted her hands soothingly. “I will make it my first concern to know whether he is apt to be kind and gentle, and no gamester. But in case we are deceived, or he should change, I will insist that the marriage settlements be structured in such a way that he cannot waste, all of your portion, so that you do not have to live on the charity of your in-laws, as I do!”

“Yes,” Jenny agreed, nodding her head until her soft curls bounced. “And one who will agree to let you make your home with us.”

“That may be asking too much,” Deborah cautioned, but her brown eyes kindled with hope. This was an idea she had not yet contemplated.
Was it possible? Oh, to be free of Vincent and Winnie, and out of sight of the towers of Woodcrest!

I shall look in the peerage,
Deborah thought.
And study the papers. I must find out who is available, sufficiently wealthy, and yet likely to be kind to a young wife.
Reluctantly, but with a grim determination born of necessity, she began laying plans for finding a suitable husband for her daughter.

***

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June Calvin
lives in
Oklahoma with her husband of almost fifty years.  Her recently married son and his delightful new bride live nearby.  June was a secretary, P.R. person, museum educator, antique dealer, newspaper reporter, and middle school teacher before discovering her most enjoyable career, writing Regency romances.  Her interests include candle-making, gardening, and bird-watching.  Thanks to the advent of easy-to-use digital cameras, she also loves taking pictures of family, friends, and the natural world around her.

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