Page 8 of The Misfortunate Miss Farthington
“You mean to help me marry?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Grant,” Tessa clarified.
“Of course, Mr. Grant. He seems like a worthy match for you. That is…” She narrowed her eyes. “Youdowish to be married, don’t you?”
Tessa didn’t have to think. “Yes,” she breathed. Her lungs tightened and her heart ached at the thought of a family of her own. Of a man at her side who looked at her the way Anthony looked at Marian, the way Lord Galena looked at Lydia, and Lord Paul looked at Mary, and…oh, the list went on and on.
She’d been surrounded by the most beautiful examples of love this past year, and she ached with the desire to experience it for herself.
The only problem was, she wanted a very particular kind of marriage. She wanted the love and the romance…and she wanted her freedom as well.
She nibbled on her lip. It was too much to ask, and she well knew it. To have it all—love, comfort and family, but still continue in the career she’d grown to love…
She might as well wish to hold the moon.
But when she caught Daphne still eyeing her—not quite convinced, apparently—Tessa made her voice stronger with conviction. “I do wish for marriage. And a family. I want all of it.”
Daphne sighed as she nodded. “I cannot say I understand this desire, but I respect it. And so, I will make it happen.”
“You…you…” Tessa stopped to gather her wits. Goodness, when had her young cousin gone from precocious to brazen?
And how had no one noticed?
Or perhaps they had. Tessa supposed this was what her aunt had meant when she’d said Daphne needed help in society. And what her cousin had meant when she’d said she was always saying the wrong thing.
“You do need my help,” Daphne continued. “Considering your tendencies to give away fiancés like Christmas gifts and push entirely marriageable marquesses in the direction of other ladies—”
“I didn’t push them away, I just stepped out of the path so they might find true love.”
“Yes, well. Now it’s your turn, dear Cousin.” Daphne’s grin was a little…terrifying, Tessa decided. But before she could come up with a protest, their mothers and Tessa’s father entered the drawing room, already in conversation about the dinner that evening to welcome Anthony and Marian, the first of their guests.
“I, for one, am glad we can put any awkwardness behind us,” Tessa’s father was saying. He paused to kiss Tessa’s cheek as he made his way to the snifter on an end table. “I’m too good a friend with his father for there to be bad blood between us.”
“Yes, well, Anthony still owes our Tessa an apology,” her mother huffed.
“For what?” Tessa asked. “I tossed him over, if you’ll recall.”
Her aunt nodded with a sympathetic glance. “Of course, dear, that’s what you must keep telling people.”
Tessa opened her mouth to argue that it wasn’t just for show. She’d done it of her own will. She’d been happy to end it. But Daphne caught her eye and gave a quick shake of her head.Not the time, her look seemed to say.Not worth the fight.
Tessa let out a long exhale instead. Daphne was right. What did it matter what they thought? She knew the truth. She’d been holding out for love, and…
Her heart skipped and tripped as her mind’s eye filled with a handsome, distinguished, absurdly intelligent scholar. She’d never realized how attractive intelligence could be until she’d sat there listening to him lecture.
But ‘lecture’ wasn’t even the right word for it. She’d been to many a lecture in her lifetime, and most made her feel ignorant as the gentlemen giving the lectures typically had a tone of condescension that made her feel small and weak.
But listening to Richard had made her feel like she was growing taller with each new word. He didn’t speak down to his audience, but rather lifted them up. He made even the most complicated of theories and experiments understandable to every person in that room, and by the end she’d been breathless with excitement as if she’d just left a fantastic opera and not a scientific symposium.
She only wished she’d had a chance to tell him how brilliant he’d been. She could easily imagine the way his lips would curve up and the way his brown eyes would grow warm and gentle.
Her exhale was shaky and she realized belatedly she hadn’t been paying attention to the turn in conversation. “It’s just too bad the Earl of Yardley couldn’t be in attendance this evening,” her mother was saying.
“I have it on good authority he’s in town. Surely, he will not miss the ball,” her sister soothed.
“No, but I’d so hoped to have him at dinner for his lively wit. Everyone knows he’s a superior guest.”
