Page 28 of The Falconer

I can’t believe he just referred to Mother’s death in the same way one might describe a couple caught in a garden tryst.

‘Unfortunate circumstance.’ I try not to sound bitter. ‘We wouldn’t want them to focus on that.’

Father lifts his chin with a scowl. He still won’t meet my gaze. ‘I hope you grasp the importance of this, Aileana. I’d like to see you matched before the season ends.’

‘It might not be that easy,’ I say.

‘Then I will arrange someone for you,’ he says simply.

Damn him. In the end, I truly have no choice – except perhaps the selection of whichever lord I’m best able to deceive. My future lies in a gilded prison of silks and balls and false politeness.

I can’t help saying something. ‘Are you so anxious to be rid of me?’

A flicker of emotion crosses his face. ‘Don’t interpret this as something it isn’t.’

‘Then what is it?’

He collects his gloves calmly off the table. ‘It’s quite simple. Part of your duty is to marry.’

‘What if I don’t want it? Marriage?’

He looks unconcerned. ‘Of course you do. Don’t be dramatic.’

I try to stay calm. ‘I’m not being dramatic, Father.’

No response. Not anger or surprise or anything more than a single blink to indicate he heard me. ‘What you want isn’t important,’ he says. ‘Duty comes first.’

Something violent rises within me, but I press it down. I’m not meant for marriage. It isn’t for someone like me. But Father doesn’t realise that marriage would force me to suppress the part of me that still grieves.

‘Of course.’

Father doesn’t appear to notice the hint of anger in my voice. He passes me the calling cards. ‘Send your responses.’

I resist the urge to crumple them in my fist. Instead, I accept them calmly. ‘I shall invite Lord Linlithgow to fourhours.’ When Father frowns in confusion, I tell him, ‘Catherine is visiting for elevenhours.’

‘Very well,’ Father says. He glances at his watch fob. ‘I’ll have MacNab send Lord Linlithgow your reply, and shall return at fourhours to join you both for tea.’

I watch him walk to his study and try to calm myself.What you want isn’t important.

In the drawing room, I flip the switch to light the fireplace. As the room warms, I sit on the red velvet settee and look out of the window, breathing in the scent of the burning wood crackling in the hearth. The sun peeks through the trees across the square. Thin white clouds drift overhead, carried faster by the wind. Ornithopters and airships float in the distance, wings fanning leisurely above the houses.

I lose count of how many cups of tea I consume as I sit there. I press the button and the electronic hand grasps my cup and pours the tea. Over and over.

It’s a relief to be alone. Here, I can let my father’s words wash over me with the crushing weight of a tidal wave.What you want isn’t important. What you want isn’t important. What you want—

‘Lady Aileana?’ MacNab pushes open the drawing room door. ‘Miss Stewart is here to see you.’

Thank heavens. ‘Do let her in, MacNab.’

A moment later, Catherine rushes in, her soft pink muslin gown rustling against the doorframe. Her hair is slightly windblown, her pale cheeks are rosier than usual, and her blue eyes are bright.

‘Where’s your escort?’ I ask with a frown. ‘Oh dear, don’t tell me your mother came.’

‘Good God, no!’ she exclaims. ‘I had to sneak out to see you. Do you have any idea what’s happening out there?’

‘Not the faintest,’ I reply and press the button on the dispenser.

Hot tea pours into the cup I’m holding and I add a splash of milk and a sugar cube, as Catherine prefers. I nudge the saucer to her side of the mahogany tea table between us.

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