Page 6 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
“Despite what?” Marianne could not help but ask, even though she had long vowed not to be affected by anything these women said, managing to keep herself as cold and calm as the winters in the Grisham estate.
“Well, I don’t know how it’s not apparent to you,” Lady Adelaide replied, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Despite your, uh, advanced age and your current status in the marriage mart. It is ever so gracious that you’ve decided to see it for what it is and retreated from the game to give other young women a chance.”
There it was.
These young women were not her friends. Their words, laced with what might sound like praise to the untrained ear, were little more than veiled barbs—cleverly disguised ridicule masked as civility.
But what they failed to understand, what they would never see beneath her composed exterior, was that Marianne had already endured far worse than their petty games.
After a lifetime of enduring her father’s cold gaze and harsher tongue, there was little left that could truly wound her. She had been hardened, not by Society but by something far more ruthless—his relentless expectations, his sharp silences, his quiet fury.
They could sneer all they liked; she had survived a battlefield far grimmer than theirs.
“Some of us prefer to wait—or not at all. Not everyone is willing to dive headfirst into mediocrity for the sake of marriage,” Marianne said with a small smile that did not reach her eyes.
The ladies froze again. Marianne almost laughed. Almost. But then they resumed their chatter, though now it carried a forced, brittle edge. The sound reminded her of the fragile loyalty these women clung to, built on appearances and disdain.
An awkward silence followed. Then, one by one, they drifted away, leaving her with nothing but the lingering trace of their perfumes—more bitter than sweet, laced with contempt.
Child’s play.
She exhaled, relieved that their petty performance had ended. They thought they could make her flinch, but they had never faced Lord Grisham’s razor-sharp scorn. If she cared about their approval—or marriage—it might have worked.
But she didn’t.
All that mattered was shielding her sisters from their father’s cruelty. Words couldn’t touch her now; she knew far worse existed in the world. And Elizabeth…
Elizabeth might come face-to-face with one of those horrors after today’s stag hunt.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her sister. Elizabeth sat near the window, her fingers curled into the hem of her gown, twisting it until her knuckles turned white. The same women who had just targeted Marianne were now circling her sister.
“Poor dear,” Lady Adelaide said with feigned concern she did not even attempt to hide. “It must be a burden to carry your family’s expectations. Marrying first? Ah.”
Elizabeth did not comment, but she was visibly distressed. She chewed on her lower lip as she continued staring off into seeming nothingness.
“Your elder sister seemed to have chosen a life of solitude,” Miss Lily added while smirking at Marianne. “You will have to take her place—do what she cannot. But… well, I don’t know. Shyness does not attract suitors, darling. Bolder girls might be more prepared to seize an opportunity. If not for the stag hunt, do you think anyone would show you some interest?”
That was enough.
Marianne was already moving across the room.
“Is there a problem?” she asked in a clipped voice. It was low enough, but not too low that it sounded like the other women’s pretentious cadences.
“Oh, no,” Lady Adelaide quickly replied. “We were merely commenting on how lovely Lady Elizabeth looks today.”
Marianne turned to her sister. With her honey-blonde hair—so like their mother’s—soft hazel eyes, and gentle demeanor, Elizabeth was the image of a perfect lady. She had a figure that so many gentlemen prized: slender yet sweetly curved.
And yet Marianne heard what the other women’s veiled remarks implied—that without the stag hunt, Elizabeth might never attract a suitor.
The worst part? They might be right.
Not because Elizabeth lacked beauty, but because she was quiet. A wallflower. Too soft-spoken to draw attention in a room full of practiced charm and shrill laughter.
Right now, her shoulders were hunched, and her eyes were wide with unease, as though she were already bracing for something to go wrong.
“She is beautiful,” Marianne declared firmly. “Unlike some, she does not hurt other women to reach her goals. She is beautiful not only today because she does not parade herself like a peacock, as some young women are wont to do.”
It was the second time that day that Marianne had silenced a gaggle of ill-mannered young ladies.
