Page 10 of An Inkpot and a Dowry for the Marchioness
It would seem that it would be quite some time before she could fulfill her dream and see those buildings for herself.
She opened the folio lovingly, tracing the lines of several of her masterpieces—one of them was a grand townhouse she had dreamed up. She had not shown it to anyone, not even her beloved father, because she feared that it was not quite ready.
Something was oddly missing in the design, although she could not quite put her finger on it. She had hoped that she would find the missing piece on her trip to London but alas, it was not meant to be.
Not soon, at any rate.
She sighed and closed the sketchbook.
In any case, with her father gone, the responsibility might have fallen on Oliver’s shoulders but it did not mean that Claire would allow the man to bear the brunt of it. She was used to carrying her own weight and after her mother died, she had more or less taken responsibility for making sure that Trixie stayed on the straight and narrow path.
Although, she mused with a slight smile,I very rarely stay on it myself.
Trixie, however, was a force of nature in itself. If Claire was given to such unladylike pursuits—drawing buildings and houses instead of painting flowers—her younger sister was even more so and could not be kept cooped up indoors for very long. She might very well go insane and drive everyone demented along with her.
But Trixie had the kindest heart of anyone she had ever met and even Claire feared that one day, her sister would be taken advantage of if she was not careful.
With a heavy heart, she laid her head on the pillow, her dreams filled with the architectural glory of London.
* * *
The ride back to Minsbury Park held none of the enthusiasm it did on the way to Ranhold House. Word of the Viscount’s extended absence had dashed the girls’ hopes on the rocks and Oliver was fairly certain he had even seen tears glimmering in Trixie’s eyes. The long winter had apparently taken its toll on the younger Rowley sister and she had been so looking forward to an outing.
London had been a glorious dream but without their father, that dream would have to wait.
“At least now we will have more time to prepare for Claire’s coming out,” Suzanna remarked dejectedly. She stared at her velvet gloves and sighed, her normally proud shoulders hunched just the slightest bit. “After all, making her curtsey is but the prelude to the Season. She would need to attend an astonishing number of events to make her more known to Society.”
“I am quite certain our Claire would manage quite well,” he said with a tight smile. He thought of the elder Rowley sister with her black hair and clear, brown eyes shining with intelligence. Any man would have to be absurdly slow-witted to not notice what a gem she was.
“Her interests are not exactly aligned with those of Society,” his sister pointed out.
“Neither are yours.”
She leaned back in the carriage and smiled in agreement. “I am not one for vapid conversations on the weather or the latest fashions,” she mused. “The mere thought of an extended discourse on who wore what to whose ball is still enough to drive me to tears.”
“Anyone with a whiff of intelligence would find that rather tedious.” Oliver inclined his head and thought of that leather folio he had seen in the library of Ranhold House. He had a very good idea of a better use for Claire’s intelligence but he feared that Society would not find it as amusing as he did. After all, ladies of thetonwere reduced to making profitable alliances through marriage and then mired in the wifely duties of holding balls and child-rearing.
Actually, not so much of the child-rearing, he mused, recalling that a great number of his peers were raised by an army of nurses, governesses, and tutors, while their mothers indulged in afternoon tea parties, carriage rides to Hyde Park, and endless balls.
In the summer, they retired to their country homes and proceeded to outdo each other in holding grand parties in their sprawling homes.
His parents, as well as the Viscount and Viscountess of Ranhold, had been the very few exceptions to the norm.
As a result,theyfound the usual pastimes of the aristocracy quite boring.
But as much as he preferred to stay in Minsbury Park, there was business to be done in London and mingling with the fashionable elite was important in maintaining the required connections.
Oh, there had been several occasions when a young miss fresh out of the schoolroom had been foisted on my path.
But in all, he had managed to avoid tying himself matrimonially to a match he was sure to regret.
His sister, too, was of the same mind and as much as she mingled in all the right circles, there were those who would call her a spinster behind her back, although there were far more unfortunate-looking misses rushing into marriage only to regret it down the road.
It was much better to wait than be sorry and he wanted better for Claire.
He also wanted her to be able to experience London as much as her little heart desired and the delay crushed him just as much.
He had even planned out a tour of the city!
