Page 2 of The Nature of a Lady
It wasn’t that Lord Sheridan wasn’t a good man. It was just that she didn’t really like him. He went ever on about archaeology. And she went ever on about the nature that his digs upended. And it only took about five minutes for both of them to be either bored out of their minds or seething at each other.
For the life of her, she couldn’t determine why Sheridan would have agreed to her brother’s plotting. Maybe he hadn’t yet. Maybe Bram meant to inform Sheridan of his brilliant new plan in the same heavy-handed way he’d informed her. Though why a marquess would feel any obligation to obey an earl, she couldn’t imagine.
Sheridan would object, if given enough time to really contemplate what Bram was demanding of him. That was how it always worked with Sheridan—he’d go along, follow her brother mindlessly for a while, and then he’d get that look on his face and declare, “I say, old chap. That is, what were you thinking of? That won’t do.”
She just had to give him time enough to come to the conclusion that she’d make him a lousy wife before her brother could get wedding plans made to the point that neither could back out without damaging their reputation. The summer to think about it—that waswhat Sheridan needed. She’d never seen him take longer than three months to wake up to Bram’s manipulations.
Never in her life hadshedisobeyed her brother though. Or, before that, their father. The very idea of it made her stomach squirm like the beetle she’d found digging its way through the garden at the inn this morning. But Bram had finally pushed her too far. It was one thing to inform her that shewouldbe fitted for a new wardrobe for the Season and set up rules for what she could do when wearing it. It was quite another to simply state that he’d decided on a husband for her.
Mama sighed and turned her face into the breeze, toward the ferry. Her blinking was too quick to bespeak anything but a continued struggle. But her voice sounded steady—if a bit tight—when she said, “You’re going to have such a lovely time exploring and cataloguing. I only wish we knew someone on the islands. There are surely a few of our acquaintances holidaying there this year.”
Libby shot a look over her shoulder at her lady’s maid for fortification. Mabena Moon gave her that same muted grin she always did when they were in company with anyone else in Libby’s family. The one that everyone assumed was merely a polite acknowledgment instead of a sign of shared secrets. “I won’t be alone, Mama. Moon’s entire family is there. You read the telegram she got in response—they’re most happy to keep an eye on me.”
A beat of silence descended, punctuated by the ringing of the bell on the ferry calling all passengers to board. Her trunks were already stowed, her ticket purchased. All she had to do was walk up the gangplank and the adventure would begin. An entire summer on England’s most unique island chain. A subtropical climate that produced plants she’d be able to see nowhere else in the country. Birds her eyes had never beheld. Seals. Ocean creatures she’d not even learned the names of yet.
She could almost hear her magnifying glasses calling to her from her trunk. And her microscope sang a siren’s song in her ears. She had fresh notebooks waiting to be filled. Pencils in every shade, sharpened and expectant. Watercolors snug in their cases. A book on the classificationsof life on the Isles of Scilly on the tip-top of her trunk, so she could snatch it out the moment she arrived in her summer cottage.
Then it struck—the tidal wave of uncertainty. What did Libby know of the world, of independent life? She’d never been away from home, not really. She was barely twenty. And if she couldn’t get on in the society in which she’d been raised, how did she expect to get on there, with strangers?
Her fingers were the ones to tighten around her mother’s this time. “Are you certain you don’t want to join me?”
Mama chuckled and released her hand. “Had I not promised Edith I would be with her for her lying-in, I would be there in a heartbeat.”
Mention of her older sister, the eldest of the three Sinclair children, made Libby’s lips twist into a wince before she could stop the reaction. Another reason this holiday had sounded so alluring when Mabena whispered the suggestion after Bram’s high-handed declaration last week. Her other option, if she didn’t want to spend the whole summer scowling at Sheridan across the breakfast room at Telford Hall while she waited for him to come to his senses, was to join her mother at Edith’s.
And none of them were ever happy when she and Edith were in the same room. “Give her my love. And if you wantednotto include her judgment on my holiday in your letters, I’d not complain about the lack.”
With another chuckle, Mama stepped back, folded her arms across her middle, and nodded toward the boat. Even with emotion waging a war against the composure on her face, Augusta, Lady Telford was the image of a grace Libby could never make herself aspire to, despite admiring it in her mother. “Enjoy yourself, my darling. Try not to ruin too many dresses. And do make an effort to see who from our acquaintances are summering there and send me a wire with their names. I’ll make any introductions I can through telegrams and letters.”
“Yes, Mama.” She’d make an effort. It would be a paltry one, but Mama wouldn’t honestly expect anything more from her. Libby grinned, leaned over to kiss her mother’s cheek, and waited.
Mama swallowed. Gave her another smile that was trying too hard. “Off you go, then. Don’t miss the ferry. Moon, I’m trusting you to see my daughter is well cared for.”
Mabena’s nod was solemn. Though when Mama waved them onward, Libby exchanged a grin with her maid that nearly gave way to a squeal of excitement. Mabena must be excited to see her family again. And Libby ... Libby could hardly believe that she’d actually pulled this off. She’d actually let a cottage for the summer without her brother’s knowledge. She’d actually get to put a few leagues of distance between herself and the society that had decided she wasn’t quite what they were looking for in an earl’s sister.
Another call from the ship’s bell had her and Mabena both picking up their pace, each clutching the smaller bags they carried with one hand and using the other to hang on to their hats, since the wind was greedily trying to steal them. A laugh spilled from Libby’s lips as they charged up the gangway at a pace too quick to be ladylike.
But that didn’t matter. Not now. They were on their way.
Once aboard, Mabena let out a gusty breath of relief. “There, now. We made it. And not a moment too soon.”
Indeed, with a finalclang, the gangway was taken in and the ferry pulled away. Libby took up position at the rails so she could wave to Mama. Her mother blew her a kiss and shouted something that was lost to wind and water slapping the hull and the steam engine’s chug and clamor. Good wishes, no doubt, to match her brave smile.
Libby held her place for a minute more and then spun to take in the world. St. Michael’s Mount, its causeway currently under water, jutted out of the sea to her left, the ancient castle reigning over the small town of Marazion. Gulls swooped and called. And likely countless fish darted beneath the waves, if she could but see them.
Beside her, Mabena chuckled and placed a restraining hand upon her arm. “Easy now, Lady Elizabeth. We don’t need you falling in to get a closer look.”
Libby shot her friend a smile. “No more of that—not this summer. It’ll just be us, Mabena. No one even needs to know that I’m Bram’ssister. I think ... I think I’ll just beLibbyuntil we go home again. Libby Sinclair. No ‘my lady’ nonsense.”
She expected a smile of pleasure. A nod. Quick agreement. Instead, thunder flashed through Mabena’s deep brown eyes. “That will never do, my lady. YouareHis Lordship’s sister. You can’t just pretend otherwise. And I had better not either, lest I forget myself when we go back to Somerset.”
For a long moment, Libby just listened to the splash of water as the boat sliced through it, wishing one of her magnifying glasses could help her see what this heavy thing was inside her chest. Wishing there were a Latin name for the feeling of disappointment—no, discomfort. No ... she didn’tknowthe word for this feeling that always seized her when someone disapproved of her.
Which was all the time, lately. She could all but see her sister’s perfect face looking at her in utter dismay, hear her voice saying,“For heaven’s sake, Elizabeth, can’t youjust be a proper young lady for adayin your life?”
Mabena’s sigh joined the wind jostling them for elbow space at the rail, and she leaned closer until their shoulders just brushed. “You know it isn’t that I don’t want to be so informal, my lady. It’s just that it would be so easy to do that I honestly do fear I’d forget myself when we go back again. And I don’t relish losing this position when your mum or brother realize we’re friends. We walk a fine enough line as it is.”
She knew that. She did. As indulgent as Mama was about the microscope and slides and endless supply of sketchbooks, she wouldn’t budge on some things—the lines between the classes high on the list. Loyalty and some affection between a lady’s maid and a lady was acceptable. Friendship was something else. Friendship required equality, andthatshe’d never grant.
