Sally would not apologize—no Ford worth their salt would ever admit they were at fault—but Aunt Penelope was Sally’s favorite relation, unmarried and undeterred from speaking her mind on any subject she was interested in and deserved an explanation. Sally released the blue gown and pulled a lovely pale green muslin trimmed with ribbons from the closet and held it up to the light. “Evelyn wanted to see the wedding gown now that it is almost finished. Everyone has left their mark except for you.”
“There is plenty of time,” Aunt Pen said. “I will attend to it directly, but first our guests are most anxious to see you.”
Her aunt had guided Sally through society’s murky waters and comforted her when her parents were at war, which had been often in recent years. She owed her so much. “I will be there soon.”
Sally stepped into the green gown, and Louisa fastened her at the back as Aunt Pen examined the wedding gown that had been left lying across the bed.
“A white flag. A flag of surrender?” Her aunt glanced at Evelyn, frowning severely. “Only you could have done that.”
“Maitland stitched a hangman’s noose on his last visit home,” Evelyn protested, speaking of Sally’s elder brother. “I was just following his example.”
“How many times must I warn you that following in your elder cousin’s footsteps will only cause you pain?” Aunt Pen caught Evelyn’s face gently and pressed a sweet kiss to her brow. “Maitland and I had words about his attitude to marriage before he left for his new assignment. The example he sets is appalling. He should already be setting up his nursery.”
Despite the topic, Sally smiled at the mild bickering. Her family was noisy, bossy, and opinionated in private. She would not have them any other way. She caught Evelyn’s eye. “Never admit fault.”
Evelyn smirked and sat up a little straighter. “Always repay in kind,” the girl replied, reciting the second line of the family motto before she kissed Aunt Pen’s wrinkled cheek.
“Family first,” Aunt Pen replied with a rueful smile, completing the trilogy as she moved away from the bed. “And soon you will have a new family to please, Sally. I would suggest you make your way to the saloon very soon. Lady Ellicott is rather obviously impatient.”
“I am coming now.” Sally winced though. As much as she liked Ellicott, his mother’s impatience could give her a megrim. She would have to learn how to bear that too.
Aunt Pen turned in the opposite direction as they reached the hall.
Sally stopped her. “Are you not coming with me, Aunt?”
Aunt Pen brushed her cheek with her knuckles, a fleeting gesture of affection. “There is something I must do this evening. But I am told there is to be an additional gentleman for dinner, so you will not lack for company.”
“I am sorry you cannot join us.” She smiled though, anticipating another of her grandfather’s staid acquaintances had dropped by to talk about the war and been convinced to spend the night. It kept Rutherford happy to pounce on anyone with an interest in the topic. He was forever poring over war reports and speculating where the fighting would happen next. It would be nice to have another man at dinner to even the numbers.
When Aunt Pen was out of sight, Evelyn shook her head. “Is it strange to anyone else but me that she is busy tonight of all nights?”
“Not really. She is always busy with something for the duke. Why do you ask?”
Evelyn hesitated a moment. “I do not think Aunt Pen likes that you are to marry.”
“Of course she is happy about the marriage.” Sally shook her head, unable to fathom such a response. “They all get along famously together.”
“Evelyn,” Louisa said in warning, “do not gossip about the family.”
Evelyn set her hands to her hips. “Well, she should know.”
“Know what?”
Louisa groaned. “Evelyn has this ridiculous idea in her head that Aunt Pen is not pleased you chose Lord Ellicott as a husband, despite the fact she has said absolutely nothing against the idea.”
“You should only marry a man you are madly in love with,” Evelyn said. “I am sure Aunt Pen agrees with me. She is not married.”
Sally addressed her cousin calmly. “I do care for Ellicott.”
“But that is not love,” Evelyn said and then moved a few paces away as Louisa shushed her. “Not the way you loved him.”
Sally reeled back a step. Him could only refer to one man, and her family had promised never to remind her of Felix Hastings. “Do not dare spoil today of all days by mentioning that devil.”
“But you loved him,” Evelyn cried passionately.
“And what a fool that made me.” Sally stiffened at the memory of her humiliation at the hands of a fortune hunter. The fortune had not even been money. It had been the early advancement of his career to captain years before he deserved the post.
“Ignore her.” Louisa caught her arm and squeezed. “She has become a blithering idiot when it comes to romance and the male of the species. She even suggested that funny old man, Sir Henley Jackson, was trying to court Aunt Pen once, so that says a lot about her state of mind.”