Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Naturally, upon arrival to my safe, private room, I go to the window and find the crowds have dispersed and Belmore Square now looks exactly how it should do at ten o’clock in the morning.
Quiet.
Come noon, carriages will appear, ladies will be leaving for their daily promenade in the royal park, and gentlemen will venture out for their regular trot and business meetings, before the eve arrives and partygoers emerge. What was Johnny Winters doing up and about at this early hour?
I hear a light knock on my door before it opens, and Mama looks at me with much sorrow as I breathe out, cross my arms, and return my attention to the view across the square. ‘I cannot marry Frederick, Mama.’
‘Oh, my darling girl, I wish I could agree.’
‘Why can you not?’ I ask, feeling her arm wrap around my shoulders and pull me into her side as she stands with me at the window. ‘I know ladies must marry suitably, but a forced arranged marriage is obsolete, Mama. You know that.’
‘Then do not make him force you.’
‘It is unfair and unethical.’ I look at her, and she smiles in that soft way she always used to but seems to have lost since our arrival for my first season here in London.
‘You have always been partial to a moral battle. Do you remember when you declared you would be applying to attend Eton?’ She chuckles. ‘Your father didn’t bargain for a bright daughter, Eliza. A son, yes, but not a daughter. We could not afford the fees for Frank. Not then, so he missed out.’
But they could now, and the truth is, if I were a boy, even a spare, I would be going to Eton, and perhaps following that, even Oxford. I would study any number of subjects. I would do something I loved.
Would. Would. Would.
‘Come,’ Mother says, kissing my temple. ‘Let us dress. I should like to show you my new favourite shop in Mayfair. It comes highly recommended by Lady Tillsbury.’ She flounces out of my bedroom, as Emma enters and fills the bowl on my dresser with fresh hot water.
‘Thank you,’ I murmur, and Emma, hesitant in her stance, pauses at the door, smiling back at me.
‘It was a very honourable thing you did there, Miss Eliza. I must thank you.’
‘Honourability is pointless when you’re a female, Emma. Especially a female of a certain status.’
‘Well, it was not pointless to me.’
I tilt my head in question. ‘Do you know the stable boy, Emma?’ I ask.
‘He’s my son, my lady.’
‘Oh.’ Holy hell, Clara is in love with Mama’s maid’s son? This gets more unfortunate by the minute.
Emma nods and leaves, and I wash and dress, silent and contemplative, thinking of many things I perhaps should not be thinking about – namely, the Duke of Chester – before meeting Mama downstairs. There is no need for me to enquire about my father’s whereabouts. I know he’s most likely drowning his sorrows – me – in alcohol already. Mother reaches for his study door and pulls it shut silently, glancing at me with a look to suggest I would do well to escape now, before nodding for Emma to open the front door.
Daylight streams in and my breath streams out, ready to face the world and the inevitable whispers of my morning capers. Picking up the bottom of her coat, Mama takes the steps and sets off down the street, head held high. I expect it is false bravado, but I am still appreciative of her apparent disregard. I follow, while attempting also to follow her approach to the unfortunate matter of me prancing around in an unacceptable amount of clothing, and ensure my smile remains fixed in place.
‘Miss Melrose,’ Lord Hamsley greets, nodding as he passes me.
‘My lord,’ I reply, hardly looking up.
‘Miss Melrose,’ Mr Simpson, resident of number four Belmore Square and a famed builder of ships, says, tipping his hat. ‘Good morning to you.’
‘Good morning, Mr Simpson.’ I smile, though it is strained.
‘Miss Melrose.’ Mr Casper sings, more or less bowing before me. Mr Casper is a lawyer who resides at number five and also father’s confidant in all matters of business
‘Mr Casper,’ I murmur, my eyes narrowing as I pass his delighted form.
Delighted by seeing me? ‘Whatever is wrong with everyone this morning?’ I say to myself, looking back over my shoulder, seeing they, too, are looking back at me.
‘I expect they are feeling quite regretful that you have ventured out this time fully clothed.’
I swing round and find a rueful smile plastered across the beautiful face of Lady Dare. ‘Oh dear. You heard about that,’ I say, disliking, but very much unable to stop, the heat rising in my cheeks.
She laughs, a laugh I expect makes men weak at the knees, and fiddles with her gloves. Does it make Johnny Winters weak at the knees? Perhaps not, for I am privy to his adequately sturdy legs, because he, like me it would seem, likes to parade around half naked too. Bugger it all, he was there this morning, seeing me in all my mortifying glory.