Page 2 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
An attendant appeared with a tray, offering two glasses of brandy for Owen and Leo.
“Put mine on my account. I’ll pay before I leave tonight,” Owen informed the attendant. Once the man had left, they were relatively alone again and Owen faced his friend.
“Does Miss Rowena have any potential suitors who might throw punches too?”
Leo threw back his head in a hearty booming laugh. “Heavens, no. Though she made quite a stir during her presentation. Best if you act fast, woo the young lady before she meets any other men.”
Owen sighed. “Very well, I’ll come.” Wooing was not a problem. He’d been wooing ladies since he was a young man. It was his lack of prospects that damaged his cause. No one wanted to marry a bloody fortune hunter, which was exactly what he was. And he hated it. Chasing women just for money left him hollow but he had no choice. His home, Wesden Heath, was sacred to him. When he’d returned from the war, scarred and broken, the wooded glens and fields of wildflowers had been his healing haven. He couldn’t give it up without a fight.
“Excellent. You supping here tonight?” Leo rose from his seat.
“Planned to. You?” Owen rolled his brandy back and forth between his palms before he and Leo exited the gaming room.
“Yes, actually. I’ll join you, if you don’t mind the company.” Leo grinned.
“Only if you tell me more of this young lady I’m to woo.” Owen was relieved he and Leo were on good terms again. It wasn’t at all the thing to quarrel with one’s good friends. Not after everything he’d been through during the war and afterward. Good friends were worth their weight in gold and he would never forsake one, not for anything.
“Well”—Leo glanced about again, apparently determined not to be overheard—“she’s quite the beauty, with flaxen hair and cornflower blue eyes…”
* * *
“Were you nervous, Milly?”
Mildred Pepperwirth glanced into the mirror of her polished walnut vanity table to meet her younger sister’s gaze. They were in a lavish guest room at Hampton House attending a house party through the weekend. It was the first formal dinner party in the country for her sister Rowena to attend since she’d turned eighteen.
“Nervous about what?” Milly waited patiently as their lady’s maid Constance tucked the last few tendrils of Milly’s chestnut hair into place. The maid had created an elegant coiffure that left a mass of hair in thick, coiled strands almost in a Grecian fashion. A green fade comb studded with diamonds was nestled in the base of her hair, keeping the intricate coils bound together.
Rowena, perched on Milly’s bed, was already dressed in a white lace evening gown, one suitable for a young lady only just come out into society. She tugged on her elbow-length white gloves, fidgeting with them until she’d tugged them too tight and then was forced to loosen them again.
Milly fought off a smile. Her little sister had no reason to be nervous. She was exquisite and every male eye would be on her once she joined the other guests downstairs.
“Oh, you know. The parties, the balls, the suitors?” Rowena’s eyes were soft but the same arresting shade of blue that she and Milly had inherited from their father. The brilliant color had captivated many a young man and made many a lady jealous.
“I suppose I was at first,” Milly replied. “But it all becomes so tedious.” She despised all the social engagements that accompanied a typical season, not because she didn’t like dinners and balls or dancing. She loved to dance, loved to visit with friends, but it had only taken her one season to realize that she was nothing more than a broodmare on an auction block. The Season had only one true purpose, she’d come to realize: to secure alliances of the wealthy and elite through marriage. Milly had quickly learned to feign a distaste in dancing to avoid giving the impression she would entertain a man’s romantic interest in her.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry; she was much like any other woman—she longed for a loving husband and a happy marriage like her parents had, but she knew what her parents had was rare. They weren’t simply husband and wife. They were partners in everything. From the moment her father had met her mother, they’d known they were meant to be. But Milly hadn’t met a single man since her come-out who she felt that instant connection with. She wanted what her parents had. Her mother had an equal say in finances and the control of the house and their investments. Milly wanted that, too, but knew of not one single gentleman of her age who would even consider such an equality in marriage. That meant Milly had no real chance of finding a love match like they had, not one that would give her the freedom she needed.
During her years of private schooling in France, she’d been fortunate to glimpse a freer society for women, but here in England, she was a pawn, a piece to be bargained and bought, based on her family’s fortune and her father’s lands. The realization was unpleasant and Milly had done the only thing she could think of to avoid marriage to a stranger, or marriage to a man she couldn’t stand. She’d become standoffish, mulish even, in the presence of eligible men. If they could not stand her coldness, her feigned arrogance, they left her in peace. It was a lonely peace, though, one without a hope of love. She was not brave like the suffragettes she secretly admired.
She would not have chanced such a strategy to avoid marriage if she didn’t know without a doubt her father would never force her to marry. He would let her remain under his care for the rest of his life if she didn’t find a man who suited her, which was her plan if she didn’t find someone who could give her both freedom and happiness in a marriage. It was a lonely solution, but better than the alternative: forced to live the rest of her life with a man who would never see her full potential as a partner.
If any man viewed her as property to be bought, she could never respect him. Love could not grow in a garden sown with seeds of domestic slavery. The only way she could ever marry would be to find a man who would love her mind, her heart, and her soul and agree that she wasn’t a lesser being. He would want to support her when she volunteered to teach children to read, especially girls who could benefit from education and better not only themselves but also their families. Milly needed a man who would stand beside his wife if she attended a suffragette meeting, not one who would ignore her or chastise or even forbid her from supporting her belief in equality between the sexes. But such a man did not exist, at least as far as she could tell.
Rowena got off the bed and came over to stand behind Milly, leaning down a few inches to peer at her own reflection in the mirror. She tweaked the bodice of her gown, tugging it up a little rather than down as most young ladies might.
“I don’t think dancing would ever become tedious, but I am so clumsy when I’m nervous. What if I trod on my partner’s toes?” Her little sister bit her bottom lip nervously.
“You’ll do fine, Rowena. Stay close to me if you get nervous.” Milly pinched her cheeks to pinken them a bit before she stood and reached for her black evening gloves.
“I do so love that gown,” Rowena sighed.
Milly checked her figure in the full mirror by the dresser. It was a wonderful gown of sapphire blue silk with gold and black netting of lace over the bodice. The netting split apart down the front of her dress below her waist to allow the sapphire paneling to show through as she walked. The train was a little long, but the slight bustle at the back displayed her figure to its best advantage.
Constance shared a little smile with Milly as they both caught Rowena smoothing a hand over her hair before she faced them.
“How do I look?” She performed a little pirouette, her eyes shining with excitement and youth.
“You look splendid, as always.” Milly clasped her little sister’s hands, glad that with her sister she could be herself, if only a few minutes longer.
