“Now that is a man the duke should not allow anywhere near his estate,” Ellicott murmured.
Sally glared. “He is a widower.”
The countess sat forward. “All the more reason in my opinion to keep the man from darkening your door again. He is only after one thing when it comes to women.”
“He loved his wife.” Sally waited for the countess to take back her criticism.
“Love. Posh! Love is only for the very foolish,” Lady Ellicott exclaimed.
Utter silence answered her. When the countess finally noticed she held the minority opinion, she straightened her spine. “No one marries for love these days. I am sure you will agree with me, Lady Templeton, that a good match requires only wealth and good connections.”
“Then I guess you have never been in love,” Uncle George cut in and then cast a questioning glance at Ellicott. “Nor ever plan to be.”
“Do not drag me into this nonsense before the wedding,” Ellicott grumbled, shoving his glass aside so carelessly it landed half on the table and half off. An observant servant hurried to preve
nt its fall and set it safely back on the table. Ellicott barely noticed the assistance. “Which reminds me, I thought we might return to Shropshire on Tuesday next week as man and wife instead of waiting.”
Sally sat very still, her heart thumping against her ribs at the unexpected request to advance the wedding date. They were marrying by license, so they could marry any morning they liked. However, she did not intend to marry in an unseemly hurry that would result in the worst sort of gossip. Everything was set for their wedding the week after he suggested. “I prefer to leave on the day we discussed when you first proposed.”
“I see.” He stood suddenly. “Then do excuse me. I have a few letters of apology I must write tonight to my friends.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ellicott strode from the room, leaving Sally reeling. Was she really going to marry a man who was cruel to cats, uncaring about love, and thought to push her around and into his bed by being a bully?
And what letters of apology did he need to write? They had no plans so far, or at least none she knew of. When was he going to confide in her?
“He is just nervous about getting married,” Lady Ellicott explained.
“He does not sound nervous to me,” she told the countess with as much dignity as she could. “He was rude.”
“Well, what do you expect of him? There is hardly enough to entertain a grown man used to a full social life. He cannot be expected to sit around with us women while we make lace and such. He needs more to amuse him. He’s always had his own friends, and now he is trying to accommodate you and your family too. It is hard for men to be idle. Things will be different when we are back at home and everything returns to normal.”
It was hard for Sally now. Always apologizing for being busy with her work on the estate was wearing her down. Always controlling her nature just to please the pair of them so they would accept her into their family. She was not sure she even wanted that life anymore. She shook her head. Everything depended on her being one way when she was being held back from the very things dearest to her heart. She did not know how much more she could bear before she started screaming.
“Everything will be settled soon, and you and I will rub along together as best we can,” Lady Ellicott said. “The painters have started on your apartment and promised it will be done by the time we return. Then new drapes will be hung throughout the house to match,” Lady Ellicott enthused, little realizing her words were another blow to Sally’s contentment.
Perhaps she was bound for spinsterhood after all.
“You have chosen to decorate my bedchamber, and the house, without bothering to consult me about what I might like?”
“My dear, it will be beautiful. I have picked just the right shade of crimson to match the gold thread in the bed hangings.”
Gold embroidery too?
Was her dowry to be spent on frivolous decorations she did not want? She could never sleep in a room decorated in red. The color kept her awake at night and always had. Sally set her teacup aside and went to the window, mind tumbling in confusion. The dark drive was empty.
“Where are you, Felix,” she whispered. “Tell me this is all a bad dream.”
Her reflection gave her no answer and no comfort. Behind her the countess quieted, but none of Sally’s doubts did.
“Excuse me, my lady,” a footman whispered. “Lady Templeton requests to see you.”
Sally glanced about the room, unable to spot her mother, who had been seated with her moments before.
“She has retired for the night,” Rodmell murmured.
“Yes, of course. I will go to her immediately. Please ask my sister to offer my excuses to Lady Ellicott.”