Page 4 of The Secret to Swooning
Tobias elbowed Everette in the ribs. “It will be worth it. To win your lady love.”
“How the hell am I to do that?” Everette mumbled.
“By telling her the truth. You’re no rogue, and it’s time she knows it. Forget what I said about pining men before. The real universal truth is that a man in possession of a lovelorn heart must do his utmost to get the girl.”
In Which We Learn How to Swoon Properly
Outside Lady Catherine’s townhome, Ann tried not to look like a dying fish. But her mama had transformed into an entirely different woman, one who valued scheming over virtue.
“Now,” her mama said, “you must make sure to swoon with a smooth face. Entirely slack.”
Ann snapped her mouth closed but still had no words with which to respond.
“Even the hint of a frown, and what should be a beatific swoon will turn into something rather unfortunate. He’ll run screaming instead of folding you into his arms. The folding is key, Ann. Remember that.”
“But… I don’t control whathedoes, Mama. I—”
“Just do. Not. Frown. Ever. But especially when you swoon.”
“Mama, I don’t think I should swoon at all.” Ann hunched nearer the wall of the townhouse, ducking her face away from a passing pedestrian. “I fail to see how it will secure me a husband.”
“Normally, I would not recommend it. But Lord Trevor”—her cheeks turned an alarming shade of red—“has wasted your time.You’re approaching…the shelf.” The last two words were hissed, as if to speak them were to give them life.
“I’m all of two and twenty,” Ann said. “Surely, I’ve a few more years before—”
“No. You do not. Not with that plain countenance and uninteresting figure.”
Ann crossed her arms over her chest. She thought she looked rather nice today. After her conversation with Lord Dartmore, her cheeks had been rosy and her eyes bright. He always looked at her like she was lovely, and so she always felt lovely afterward. He’d proposed, too, transforming from silly friend to hard-edged suitor in a breath, and that had made her feel… desired.
All that desirable loveliness drained right down her body, out of her feet, and made a puddle on the ground. She almost waved goodbye to it as it rolled in watery tendrils down the street. The world was unkind to women—especially plain ones like her—but she knew she must marry. Better to remember the facts her mother set before her than to dwell on how Lord Dartmore made her feel.
“Now,” her mother said, “listen closely. Timing is of the utmost importance. You must wait until something shocking has been said. Are you with me so far, Ann?”
“Yes, Mama. Time the swoon correctly.”
“Next, you must place your hand gently upon your brow. Palm out. Always”—she shook her finger in Ann’s face—“palm out.”
“Like this?” Ann placed the back of her hand to her brow.
“Lacks elegance. But good enough. Next, you stumble oh-so-slightly on your feet. Not a large rocking, mind you. Only enough to waft the tendrils of hair at your temples.”
“Waft tendrils. I can do that.”
“Then you make a slight moan and let all your muscles go loose. Make sure”—she placed a hand on Ann’s shoulderand leaned so close their noses almost touched—“this is of the utmost importance. Are you attending me?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Make sure, once you’ve loosed your muscles, that you falltowardthe man whose interest you wish to catch.” She stepped away from Ann and clasped her hands before her. “Fall into the arms of the wrong man, and all is lost.”
“I understand.”
Her mother’s hands wrapped around her upper arms, giving her a shake. “Do you? The swoon is not a method to be taken lightly. It ignites men’s passionsandtheir protective instincts. If utilized incorrectly, it could result in utter disaster. Chaos of the first order.”
Was her mother about to swoon?
“I understand, Mama. Truly, I do. I’ll fall into the right man’s arms!”
She pursed her lips. “I remain unconvinced.”
