Page 17 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
It would have to be so.
“Mother?” Ella asked, surprising even herself with her voice — so light and girlish, so tentative.
Her mother’s eyes shifted towards her. “Hmm?”
“I was curious, Mother,” Ella continued, taking a slight step forward. “Curious if you truly believe that Tatiana’s match with Frederick is… appropriate.”
“Appropriate?” her mother asked, her eyes seemingly void of meaning. They seemed bottomless, a big empty sky. “I don’t suppose I understand what you mean, Ella. Appropriate? Have you known Frederick to do anything inappropriate in all the years of knowing him?”
Flustered, Ella scrubbed her fingers over her cheeks, wishing she could extract herself from the conversation. “No. I don’t believe…”
“Then I dare say this conversation is wasting my time,” her mother said, tossing her head back towards the window. “Your sister has found a valid suitor, and I expect you will do the same. It’s the matter of course for all young women.” She cleared her throat, sounding akin to a strange creature in the woods. “I know your sister expects your assistance with that trousseau. I imagine you’ve made her wait long enough.”
“Surely. I’ll find her,” Ella murmured, her heart beating tiny, quick rabbit beats.
Ella hurried back towards the hallway. She blinked several times, unsure of what, exactly, she’d wanted her mother to say in response. Had she wanted to tell her that she couldn’t imagine Frederick and Tatiana together? But why on earth would her mother have such a thought?
Besides. Trying to force her mother into such conversation was a bit of a dirty tactic, on her and Peter’s quest to tear Frederick and Tatiana apart. Rather than craft a kind of conspiracy, wasn’t it far better to reveal the truth to Tatiana, herself: that she wouldn’t be happy with Frederick, at all?
Yet again, en route to the bedroom, Ella forgot about the trousseau, about her sister latched into a little room alone, attempting to build. Rather, Ella drew her door shut, her head swirling with its own anxiety. Her fingers fluttered as they reached towards the cabinet, drawing out a flat, glowing sheet of paper. She splayed it across the desk, hunting for a quill, her little vat of ink.
Funny how quickly the mind turned to its own preoccupations.
“Dear Lord Holloway,
“I’m writing to inform you of a sudden opportunity. It’s come to the attention of my mother and I that neither Frederick nor Tatiana, have much knowledge of the other; that it would behoove them to spend a greater amount of time together in a social setting.
“Rather a clever note to spell out in my mother’s head, don’t you agree?”
At this, Ella paused. Was it beneficial to impress upon him just how clever she thought she was? Would he think her a pompous fool? Did she rightly care? For certainly, throughout much of her life, she’d regarded Peter without much respect, thinking him crass and almost irritating with his brashness.
She continued, trying to draw back the tone, to seem less sinister, or idiotic, or whatever sort of person she was coming off as, just now. Why was this entire letter-writing business sending shivers down her spine? It was only Peter. Peter Holloway. Her partner in whatever sort of “crime” this was.
“Regardless, it would be good of you to come, to ensure that all things go to plan,” Ella continued, beginning to scribble a bit as she wrote. It looked like the raucous etchings of a child. “It was marvellous to know another soul on this earth had a similar idea as mine, to know that you care for your cousin almost as much as I care for my sister. I’m grateful that we can fight in this war together.”
Ella signed the letter, her brow furrowed. She folded it up, dropped it in an envelope, and spun around towards the door. Her sister’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. With a lurch, she remembered the trousseau — that, in her sister’s mind, this was meant to be an exciting, anticipatory time, rather than a time of solo trousseau-building. How wretched Ella would feel if, given her own engagement, her sister avoided her, forgot she was meant to help in this little tidbits along the way.
Ella hurried out towards the hallway, her heart drumming in her throat. She caught the last of her sister’s skirt as it tucked around the corner. A single sob burst out, proof that Ella had been correct in her assumption that Tatiana was none too pleased.
“Tatiana!” Ella cried, sweeping her legs forward to catch up. “Tatiana, please! Let me help you with the trousseau. I know it’s what you need.”
Chapter 9
The letter from Lady Ella Chesterton arrived during the following afternoon, mere minutes before an official invitation for the actual dinner event itself. Peter snorted at this, casting his eyes across the table at his cousin, Lord Frederick, while tearing at the edge of the letter Lady Ella had written him. Her penmanship was relatively beautiful at the top, before devolving into a kind of chaos later on. He wondered if that was a sort of alert to the persona that lurked behind those rather alluring eyes.
Not that Lady Ella was his type.
“What is it you’re snorting about?” Frederick asked, arching his brow.
“Oh, absolutely nothing,” Peter replied. He noted that Frederick had yet again fully closed his book. His fingers scuttled across the top of it, uninterested in opening it again. “I don’t suppose you’re done studying for the day?”
Frederick’s cheeks were lax, his eyes far away. Peter ducked around, looking to see if there was anything Frederick was gazing at outside the mansion window. Only a big, blue May sky reflected back, along with the wide stretches of fields. On the other side lurked the Chesterton estate. Perhaps that was where Frederick’s mind wandered, now.
“I do apologise, Peter.” Frederick sighed, allowing his shoulders to slump. “It’s a difficult thing, drawing her from my mind. I pined for her for months and months, while away. It was difficult to sleep. Difficult to awaken again, knowing she wouldn’t be by my side. Now, as the days press forward until we’re married…”
The words felt like daggers. Peter opened the dinner invitation once more, hoping to busy his mind with other thoughts, besides the stirring love — so similar to his own — within his cousin’s heart. How had he and Frederick grown into such different people, while still brewing with a similar love?
“This dinner party…” Frederick began, scrunching his eyes tight. “You’re invited, as well?”
