Page 81 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
Harrington blanched. “You won’t tell him, will you, Mother?”
“Gracious, no,” the countess replied. “But nor am I inclined to let you fritter such a sum away in some seedy gaming den.”
“Notallof it,” Harrington grumbled.
Edward caught his mother’s eye. “You were present for the ceremony?”
“I was.” Lady Cheltenham turned to Elissa. “Congratulations, my dear. As a mother, I found your poem ever so affecting. I’m not too proud to admit I shed a tear.”
Elissa curtseyed. “Thank you, my lady.”
Edward peered at his mother. She seemed strangely nonchalant. “Then you also heard my announcement that Elissa and I are to wed?”
“Of course, darling.” The countess smiled fondly as she took Elissa’s hand and pressed it. “Not that it came as a surprise.”
“Did it not?” Edward exchanged a glance with Elissa. “We thought you might, er—”
“Fauconbridge, there you are.” Edward turned to see Elissa’s father approaching, his wife on his arm. “One of the stagecoach horses threw a shoe, which is why we…” He trailed off, noticing Lady Cheltenham.
“Mother, allow me to present Elissa’s parents.” Introductions were completed in short order. Elissa’s mother seemed flustered to be in the presence of a countess.
Her father was more composed. He turned to Edward. “So, what happened? Did you win?”
“I did not,” Edward replied.
Mr. St. Cyr shook his head. “Ah, that’s a pity. We came all this way for nothing.”
Edward was torn between fuming that Mr. St. Cyr did not even consider the possibility that Elissa might have won, and the anticipation of having such an obvious example of his daughter’s talent to throw in his face.
Mr. St. Cyr shook his head. “I suppose the prize went to that anonymous translator.”
“Indeed, it did,” Lady Cheltenham confirmed, a gleam in her eye.
“Who was it, then?”
Edward smiled fondly at Elissa. “Why, your brilliant daughter, of course.”
“What?” A look of shock crossed Mr. St. Cyr’s face as he rounded on Elissa. “You?”
Elissa took a deep breath. “Yes, Father.”
“You—you won the contest?”
“I did.”
“And you’re the secret translator?”
She lifted her chin. “I am.”
Her father’s face had fallen completely slack. “But that’s… that’s impossible!”
Edward clapped his former tutor on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mr. St. Cyr. I, too, felt exceedingly foolish when first she told me. In retrospect, it was so obviously her style, I cannot believe I didn’t figure it out for myself.”
Elissa’s father was apparently stunned speechless. Mrs. St. Cyr shook off her stupor. “This is dreadful, absolutely dreadful! You had to go and flaunt your unnatural infatuation with topics best reserved for men in such a public manner. Now everyone will know you to be the worst kind of bluestocking.” Mrs. St. Cyr rubbed her forehead. “We will never marry you off now.”
“As much as I hate to contradict you, Mrs. St. Cyr,” Edward said with a grave sincerity he did not feel in the slightest, “Elissa will be marrying, and sooner than you think. You see, I have asked her to be my wife.”
“And I have accepted,” Elissa added.
