Page 24 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
“Mama,” Lady Ursula gasped.
“Lady Farendale,” Graham stuttered.
“This is not the parlour, Lord Sinclair,” the older woman said coolly, her voice clipped.
He flushed. “I got lost, I’m afraid.”
“I see. Well, follow me, and I shall lead you there. As for you, Ursula, back to your room.”
Ursula nodded obediently. Graham wordlessly handed over her books, and she clutched them to her chest. She scurried away, and he found himself following her with his eyes.
A matrimony of convenience,he thought, heart pounding.What shall I do if it becomes more than that? What then?
Chapter Eight
“Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind;therefore,is winged cupid painted blind.” – A Midsummer Night’s Dream,Shakespeare
It seemed utterly absurd that she was entering matrimony on the following day.
Ursula stared at her reflection in her bedroom mirror, the pallid girl she saw there bore no resemblance to herself and as she had allowed herself to be manipulated like a mannequin. She continued to look at herself and saw that she had lost so much weight that her matrimonial gown had to be altered yet again.
Mama was thrilled, of course, but Ursula did not like her new thinness. She could count her own ribs, and while she often did not have an appetite, at times hunger pangs and weakness would come upon her so rapidly and viciously that she doubled over, and found herself unable to breathe.
“Nearly done, your ladyship,” one of the maids said, flashing a nervous smile upwards.
Ursula made no effort to smile back. The girl accidentally prodded her with a pin, and Ursula didn’t even yelp. The pain gave her something to focus on, oddly enough.
It isn’t all bad,she thought.He’s handsome and seems pleasant enough. You could be entering into matrimony with a much worse man. Miss Staithwaite came into mind as she wasbarely nineteen and is the wife of Lord Ruddington, a proud seventy year old!
All of Society had exclaimed of the greatness ofthatmatch last Season. Yes, Lord Ruddington was seventy, with hair in his ears and nose, a squint, and was generally a rather unpleasant man who had buried four wives, but he wasrichandtitled,and Miss Staithwaite was a pretty little nobody.
Mama had sniffed when she read about the match in the gossip columns.
“Lucky girl.”
“Lucky?” Ursula had responded, agog. “He’sseventy! She can’t be in love with him.”
“Well, of course not, but iswealthy, my dear. She’ll be Lady Ruddington, and will likely be a widow soon enough. It’ll all be worth it.”
Ursula disagreed. The Ruddington men lived well into their nineties, from what she had heard, and most of the fortune was entailed away on Lord Ruddington’s adult sons who were mostly older than poor Miss Staithwaite. At this rate, she would remain wedded for twenty years, at which point she would be nine and thirty a Dowager, instead of a Dashing Widow.
Ursula shuddered. Yes, things could be worse indeed.
They all flinched when the door was thrust open, and Mama came striding in. The maids leaped to their feet andmade nervous curtsies, and Ursula turned hesitantly to face her mother.
“The alterations aren’t finished yet, Mama.”
“Yes, I can see that. I need to speak with you, Ursula. Out, all of you.”
Mama made a brief, dismissive gesture, and the maids scurried to obey, leaving their sewing utensils scattered all over the floor. Ursula remained where she was, balanced on a pedestal to make it easier to adjust the hem. Her dress rustled loudly when she moved, and the fabric was stiffer and tighter than she was used to.
It’s only for one day. I only have to wear it for one day.
Mama waited until the door had closed behind the maids, then offered a stiff smile at her daughter.
“How are you feeling, my dear? Excited?”
Ursula swallowed, plucking at her skirts. “Nervous, more like.”
