Read Online Rhonda Woodward by White Rosesand Starlight - Free Book Online
Authors: White Rosesand Starlight
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see his clothes? Jane says all the blades in Town copy the knot of his neckcloth and the cut of his coat. She says he beat Prince George in a phaeton race! Jane says he has the largest house in Cavendish Square! And he’s here, in Parsley Hay! Oh, I do hope he will come to our ball. Surely, he will if he is still staying at Ridgeton Abbey. Oh, Mama, please write to Mr. Penhurst this day!”
What Mama was supposed to write, Deirdre thankfully didn’t share.
“Deirdre my love, you must compose yourself, really, your behavior is much too coming. You do not see Marina behaving in such a giddy manner. I’m sure Mr. Penhurst’s guests will come to our ball if they are still in residence.”
“Yes, but if they get wind of her silliness they may run in the other direction.”
“Oh pooh, Marina, you were having just as much fun as I was last night.” She turned back to Mama with beseeching eyes. “Do say we may go to Northam Hall today. I do wish to see dear Lydia. And I understand Jane Willingham also intends to call on the Hollings.”
Rising from the table, Mama replied, “No, my dear, I’m afraid I am much too busy to go visiting today. Why, the number of invitations I must write shall keep me at my secretaire for days.”
Deirdre’s face screwed up with petulance and before she could open her mouth to protest, Marina said, “Do not fret, Deirdre, I wish to ride into the village and as Northam Hall is close, we shall stop there first.”
Instantly, Deirdre’s expression cleared and she bounced in her chair. “Oh capital! I shall wear my bronze-colored habit with the darling new tricorn.”
Mama smiled at her daughters and moved toward the door. “That is good of you, Marina. Take one of the grooms with you and convey my felicitations to Mrs. Hollings.”
Once in her pretty room, decorated in springlike shades of blue and cream, Marina asked her maid to bring her favorite charcoal-colored habit, but changed her mind before Dora reached the door.
“Dora, please bring my new habit instead, the midnight blue. It’s warmer.”
“Yes, miss, and the top hat with the net veil?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Dora smiled her approval, for she was excessively concerned with her lady’s appearance and took pride in turning her out at her best.
Marina paused in releasing the row of small buttons on her sleeve to gaze out the window to the park and the countryside beyond, toward Ridgeton Abbey.
In the short time she spent in their company last night, it became clear to Marina that Mr. Penhurst’s guests were a sophisticated lot, and she wondered how they would entertain themselves in sleepy little Parsley Hay. Although she was sure the gentlemen would soon be diverting themselves with the hunt.
The images of the beauteous Mr. Sefton and the disdainful Lord Cortland came to her thoughts again, and she was determined to behave differently when she next met them.
She keenly felt not only her parents’ expectations of her, but the expectations of all the people she had known all of her life.
As the eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Buckleigh, she was aware of her place in her beloved Parsley Hay. Life had always unfolded in a smooth rhythm before Marina, and unlike the often discontented Deirdre, Marina had wanted nothing more from her life than for that rhythm to continue.
Until lately.
Even before meeting Mr. Sefton, she had become aware of a restless stirring within. Marrying Henry Willingham no longer felt like a forgone conclusion. She wanted more, although she was not sure what “more” was.
She couldn’t fault his attentiveness; however, nothing in his manner made her think he felt anything beyond admiration for her. She’d never detected anything approaching passion in his regard. And even though she felt a bit petty for thinking so, the way he nearly minced when he danced made her wish she never had to take the floor with him again. The idea of marrying Henry had always felt so comfortable.
What Mama was supposed to write, Deirdre thankfully didn’t share.
“Deirdre my love, you must compose yourself, really, your behavior is much too coming. You do not see Marina behaving in such a giddy manner. I’m sure Mr. Penhurst’s guests will come to our ball if they are still in residence.”
“Yes, but if they get wind of her silliness they may run in the other direction.”
“Oh pooh, Marina, you were having just as much fun as I was last night.” She turned back to Mama with beseeching eyes. “Do say we may go to Northam Hall today. I do wish to see dear Lydia. And I understand Jane Willingham also intends to call on the Hollings.”
Rising from the table, Mama replied, “No, my dear, I’m afraid I am much too busy to go visiting today. Why, the number of invitations I must write shall keep me at my secretaire for days.”
Deirdre’s face screwed up with petulance and before she could open her mouth to protest, Marina said, “Do not fret, Deirdre, I wish to ride into the village and as Northam Hall is close, we shall stop there first.”
Instantly, Deirdre’s expression cleared and she bounced in her chair. “Oh capital! I shall wear my bronze-colored habit with the darling new tricorn.”
Mama smiled at her daughters and moved toward the door. “That is good of you, Marina. Take one of the grooms with you and convey my felicitations to Mrs. Hollings.”
Once in her pretty room, decorated in springlike shades of blue and cream, Marina asked her maid to bring her favorite charcoal-colored habit, but changed her mind before Dora reached the door.
“Dora, please bring my new habit instead, the midnight blue. It’s warmer.”
“Yes, miss, and the top hat with the net veil?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Dora smiled her approval, for she was excessively concerned with her lady’s appearance and took pride in turning her out at her best.
Marina paused in releasing the row of small buttons on her sleeve to gaze out the window to the park and the countryside beyond, toward Ridgeton Abbey.
In the short time she spent in their company last night, it became clear to Marina that Mr. Penhurst’s guests were a sophisticated lot, and she wondered how they would entertain themselves in sleepy little Parsley Hay. Although she was sure the gentlemen would soon be diverting themselves with the hunt.
The images of the beauteous Mr. Sefton and the disdainful Lord Cortland came to her thoughts again, and she was determined to behave differently when she next met them.
She keenly felt not only her parents’ expectations of her, but the expectations of all the people she had known all of her life.
As the eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Buckleigh, she was aware of her place in her beloved Parsley Hay. Life had always unfolded in a smooth rhythm before Marina, and unlike the often discontented Deirdre, Marina had wanted nothing more from her life than for that rhythm to continue.
Until lately.
Even before meeting Mr. Sefton, she had become aware of a restless stirring within. Marrying Henry Willingham no longer felt like a forgone conclusion. She wanted more, although she was not sure what “more” was.
She couldn’t fault his attentiveness; however, nothing in his manner made her think he felt anything beyond admiration for her. She’d never detected anything approaching passion in his regard. And even though she felt a bit petty for thinking so, the way he nearly minced when he danced made her wish she never had to take the floor with him again. The idea of marrying Henry had always felt so comfortable.
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