Page 24 of Lady Frederica and the Scot Who Would Not
“I didn’t even know Lord Asterly came to call upon Vivian.” Freddy tried to sound properly chastised, because she was, truly, but her instinct told her to defend herself, despite her mind reminding her that her mother was correct—her behavior was indefensible. “Vivian is not speaking to me, remember?”
Her mother gave her a sharp-eyed look. “Don’t be pert, young lady.”
Freddy was quite sure Mama didn’t want an actual response from her, so she simply nodded.
“Lord Asterly told Vivian his father informed him yesterday that he would cut Lord Asterly off if he wed her.”
“Well,” Freddy said, awash with guilt but also thinking Vivian might count herself lucky not to be wed to such a spineless man, “if he truly loved Vivian, he would wed her anyway.”
Freddy’s mother threw up her hands and shook them as she looked to the painted ceiling of the breakfast room. There in golds, silvers, greens, blues, grays, and streaks of yellow was a mural of angels and demons engaged in a battle for the gates of Heaven. “Do you see what I have to endure?!” She shook her hands once more.
Freddy glanced to her father, thinking and hoping they might share one of their special private looks they often exchanged during one of her mother’s outbursts. The look that said,We both know how silly this is,but instead, she found him frowning at her. Things were horrid all around. Suddenly, her throat became tight and achy, and she had to swallow the urge to cry.
Her mother looked at her once more, and the sadness that settled on her face made Freddy’s stomach ache. “Lord Asterly told your sister hedidwant to wed her, despite the fact that his father would cut him off and leave him penniless.”
Freddy frowned. “Well, if he wants to wed her still, why are you acting as if all is so dire for her?”
“Frederica!” Her mother’s shriek resounded around the room. “You live in a world that is not real! Your sister lives in reality with the rest of us.” Freddy’s entire face flamed. “Vivian knows her dowry would not be enough to sustain them, and she loves Lord Asterly so very much that she does not want to subject him to a life of poverty. He is a younger son. He has no title, no land of his own, no training of any sort, because he believed—and rightly so—that he would have funds from his family to live upon. The only thing he might possibly do is obtain a commission, and that might not be possible if he’s wed to a woman whose sister is being called a light-skirt!”
“Georgette,” her father said, his voice quiet but firm. “You know Frederica is not a light-skirt.”
Well, this all explained why Vivian had thrown a brush at Freddy a moment ago when she had tried to enter their bedchamber to talk to her sister. Since returning from Guinevere’s ball, Vivian had spoken four sentences to Freddy:How could you? You’ve destroyed my life. You’re no longer my sister. And the last sentence had been,Get out.
Freddy had complied that first night after returning home from the disastrous ball, thinking perhaps Vivian needed time to cry and scream alone and then would be willing to talk to Freddy, but that had not occurred. When Freddy had tried to return to their bedchamber later that night, the door had been locked and Vivian had not answered Freddy’s repeated knocks, so Freddy had slept in Guinevere’s old bedchamber. And now her belongings were there, too, at Vivian’s demand. And Vivian had sent the man she loved, the man who had asked her to wed him, away today because she wanted him to have the best life possible.
Freddy knew her sister, and that deep understanding of who Vivian was at her core made Freddy’s eyes fill with tears, despite her best efforts to keep her emotions under control. Vivian had not sent Lord Asterly away simply because they would be poor. No, her sister was too good, too kind, too wise to let money rule her decisions. Vivian had sent Lord Asterly away because she knew if he wed her without his parents’ blessing, she would be the cause of a rift between the man and his family. Having family support was especially important to Vivian, who’d been very sick as a child and had to rely upon them to take care of her many times. Vivian would never allow Lord Asterly to lose that, even if it meant she lost him.
The tears Freddy had tried to hold back slipped their confinement and rolled a trail of searing shame down her face. She’d been very selfish. She could have put off her own desires until after Vivian was safely wed, but she hadn’t.
To Freddy’s surprise, her mother came around the table, pulled out a chair, and slipped an arm over Freddy’s shoulder. “There, there. I know you didn’t mean to ruin your sister’s life, though I suspect you are not at all sad about destroying your own remaining meager chances of catching a husband on the marriage mart. And I know you’re not a light-skirt, though it hardly matters what we know. Gossip and all.”
Freddy smiled through her tears. Leave it to her mother to comfort and insult her in the same sentence.
Mama pressed Freddy’s head to her shoulder as Freddy’s tears came harder, and her father, clearing his throat and looking vastly uncomfortable, handed Freddy a handkerchief. “I blame myself,” her mother said, running a soothing hand over Freddy’s hair. “I allowed your grandmother to tell Guinevere all the stories of her own scandalous behavior as a hoyden, and I know Guinevere passed those tales on to you and Vivian. I suppose I should have seen the harm in it, but I didn’t, especially after Guinevere landed her duke and Vivian seemed on the verge of catching a very respectable offer of marriage. But you—” Mama wiggled her shoulder so Freddy righted herself and looked at her mother. “You are different from your sisters. I’ve tried to subdue you, for your own good.” Her mother wrung her hands. “But you seem incapable of changing.” Freddy sank a little lower in her chair again as her mother prattled on. “You’re so wild. Free. Bold. I both admire it in you and fear for you, darling, because of it. I don’t know what you will do now.”
“I’ll make it right,” Freddy vowed, swiping at her cheeks.
“I don’t see how you can. No respectable man will have you now.”
“No,” Freddy said, laughing. “I mean, I’ll somehow mend things so that Lord Asterly’s parents will give their blessing for him to wed Vivian.”
Her mother’s brows dipped together, and she shook her head as she took Freddy’s hand. “Frederica,” she said in a patient voice, as if Freddy were still a child. “The only thing that could possibly make it right would be if either Lord Brooke or Mr. Beckford were to make you his wife.” Her mother tapped a finger to her lip as she tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Since Lord Brooke announced you were behaving improperly with Mr. Beckford, it would be best if it was Mr. Beckford whom you wed, especially given how he apparently defended your honor.” Freddy stiffened, not liking where her mother’s thoughts seemed to be going.
Mama smiled so big all of a sudden that her dimples showed, and Freddy’s mind whirred with shock. Her mother never grinned like that about anything. “This just might work,” she said, nodding.
“What might work?” Freddy and her father asked at once.
“Why, Freddy wedding Mr. Beckford, of course.” Freddy opened her mouth to protest, but her mother gave her a look that would have scared the devil himself. With a curt nod at Freddy, her mother said to her father, “Do keep up! If he wed her, the scandal would eventually be forgotten!” She hugged Freddy to her, nearly crushing her, then she thrust her away just as suddenly. “I do believe fate is smiling upon us, Frederica.”
It felt to Freddy rather like fate had just blindsided her. Her thoughts swirled in her head so that she had to squeeze her eyes shut. She didn’t need love or marriage. Those things meant giving up her freedom, meant someone wanting to change her because she didn’t suit them as she was. Of course, Beckford wasn’t here. He was in Covent Garden. She was appalled she’d even had the thought, and she felt a tickle of hysteria rising in her. She had to breathe deeply to regain control.
When her mind had settled, she opened her eyes to find her mother staring at her. Freddy swallowed. “I don’t see how my marrying Mr. Beckford would appease Lord Asterly’s snobbish parents.” And she prayed her mother didn’t, either, because if it was a viable solution, wasn’t she obligated to pursue it, pursue him, for Vivian’s sake? Especially given Vivian’s current dire situation was Freddy’s fault.
Her mother waved a dismissive hand. “He’s practically of thetonnow,” Mama announced.
If Freddy were the swooning type, now would be the appropriate time to do so. She held her breath and prayed for a black wave to swallow her and take away the mess she’d made. But when nothing happened, she begrudgingly exhaled and asked, “Whatever do you mean, Mama?”
“Georgette, have you been using a tonic for your nerves again?” Papa demanded.
