Page 34 of A Lady's Propitious Match
Simon’s gaze briefly shifted from the art work to her, a momentary flicker of interest in his eyes. “Art? Well, I appreciate the aesthetic value, I suppose,” he replied with a nonchalant smile. “But you know, Clara, what truly matters is the investment potential of these pieces. A wise investment can bring returns that art alone can not match.”
Clara felt a subtle disappointment settle in her chest, realizing that Simon had effortlessly redirected the conversation back to the realm of finance, just as he always did. Undeterred, she persisted, hoping to find common ground. “Yes, investments are important, but there is an indescribable beauty in art that goes beyond monetary value. The emotions it evokes, the stories it tells. Do you not find that magical?”
Simon chuckled, a dismissive glint in his eyes. “Lady Belmont, my dear, magic is a concept for dreamers. Practicality is what builds fortunes. Art is just another commodity in the market, and understanding its value is key.” He shot her a wink. “That is what I am best at.”
She sighed inwardly, her attempt to bridge the gap between their perspectives met with resistance. “But there is more to life than just wealth and practicality. Art has the power to move people, to inspire change and connect us on a deeper level.”
He waved a hand, brushing off her sentiment. “Sentimentality will never pay the bills, Clara. I prefer to focus on investments that yield tangible results.”
As the conversation veered further into the realm of finance with both their father’s joining in, Clara could not shake off the feeling of disconnect. The grand paintings on the walls seemed to mock her attempts at bridging the gap between their worlds. Simon’s fixation on monetary value overshadowed the beauty she saw in the strokes of an artist’s brush and the stories painted in vibrant hues. He knew that she loved art, but he did not even try to talk about it with her.
How did their parents think that this would work out when they were far too different? Was there no way to show them that this was a disaster waiting to happen?
No, because they were blinded by what they thought was right. It seemed that was all that mattered.
As the courses came and went, Clara mechanically lifted her fork and knife, feigning interest in the exquisite dishes laid before her. The conversation around her continued to buzz with elegance and charm, yet she felt like a discordant note in a symphony of refined interactions. Her parents, seated close to the head of the table, conversed animatedly with the other esteemed guests, unaware of the silent turmoil that raged within their daughter.
Either that, or they were not concerned about her feelings.
That was certainly how it felt when it came to the ride home, when her father started to talk about her as if she were not even there.
“It seems to me like Lord Caldwell will be formally proposing soon. He will be asking for our Clara’s hand in marriage, which is wonderful news…”
Clara could not hide her surprise. Was it not typical for a gentleman to formally court her before proposing? There had been a few visits to her home, and their paths had crossed at societal events, but that was it.
Knowing it would only anger him if she showed anything less than delighted gratitude at the apparently foregone conclusion of this match filled her with dread. Her plan with Christopher had not worked fast enough. What were they going to do?
If only Clara could speak with her duty obsessed parents about how she was feeling. If only they would take her concerns into consideration. But she already knew how they would respond, and it was not worth the drama. Her mother would never let it go, but she would also never hear her out.
Clara was going to have to find another way to make her plan work before this acceleration spiraled out of her control and her future ended up all planned out for her in a way that would leave her bored and miserable for the rest of her life.
