"The female parts, of course!" the maid had replied with a chortle.
"That's precisely what I fear." Although Marguerite remonstrated, Mariah had insisted on adding a lace fichu to protect her modesty. Once she'd donned her embroidered satin slippers, she turned to the looking glass, where Mariah studied herself in amazement. Although she had a good complexion and relatively pretty eyes, she had never considered herself beyond average looking, but now "Mariah the country mouse" was indeed transformed.
Lady Russell stepped back to eye her appraisingly. "I must say the cut and color of that gown could not suit you better, my dear. Let me have a look at you. Turn around, child," Lady Russell commanded, circling a be-ringed finger in the air.
Mariah completed a full rotation, feeling like some otherworldly fairy princess.
Lady Russell smiled at her approvingly. The lady herself was regal in deep blue that set off her silver hair and piercing blue eyes. Although approaching sixty, Lady Russell was still a striking woman. "I daresay you will do very well tonight. I would have you know that I have conferred with the duchess over your dinner companion. Her Grace has chosen to seat you with William Henry Nassau de Zuylestein, Earl of Rochford. His name may be a mouthful, but he is indeed an excellent prospect."
"Prospect for what?" Mariah asked in confusion.
"For marriage, of course!" Lady Russell laughed. "He is one and thirty, descended from Dutch royalty, highly favored by our king, and miraculously unwed."
"Why do you suppose that is?" Mariah asked. "Is he perhaps . . . deformed in some way?"
"La, child!" Lady Russell laughed. "On the contrary, he is considered quite handsome."
"Then surely there must be some defect in his character that has protected his state of bachelorhood for so long."
"How cynical you are! I daresay he has sown his share of wild oats, but what young nobleman has not?"
"I really did not come here to seek a husband, my lady."
"One does not always have to seek to find, Mariah. You should consider the advantages before you discount the notion."
Mariah exhaled a sigh. "Lydia has said the same—that I will never meet anyone suitable back home at Morehaven. My mother and I rarely venture out and have few visitors. But I despise the idea of marriage to someone I know nothing about. What manner of man is Lord Rochford?"
"The kind who is favored by the king," Lady Russell replied as if that were all that mattered. "He was a gentleman of the bedchamber for a number of years before his recent diplomatic appointment. The earl's family has been royal favorites since William of Orange took the throne."
"So he's a courtier?" Mariah immediately envisioned him as a foppish, toadying sycophant. She didn't understand why she already felt such a prejudice against the earl, whom she had never even met. Had she already set her heart on another?
"Rochford is an excellent match," Lady Russell continued. "You might never have such an opportunity again."
"But how could we possibly have anything in common? If I marry, I want to be a wife, my lady. I don't want to live separate lives."
"Whether you do or not depends on the understanding of the marital arrangement," Lady Russell said. "Not to be indelicate, my dear, but surely you understand that most matches within our class are forged by design rather than by sentiment."
Although she was aware that more aristocratic couples than not had such marriages, and it was probably what the earl would expect, it wasn't what Mariah had hoped for.
"My dear, sometimes it is best to be dispassionate in one's thinking." Lady Russell patted her hand. "We are not all so blessed to have everything we desire, but that does not mean we can't be content."
Mariah knew she was right. Very few people were fortunate enough to have wealth, privilege, and love. Was she being foolishly romantic in her expectations or just selfish to want so much?
Surprisingly, she found it easy to imagine Mr. Needham embracing the role of husband and father, even though he had refused to speak of such things. His reticence about it had been more telling than if he had spoken. He wanted them but believed them out of reach. She was certain she'd felt something pass between her and Mr. Needham, but he'd already admitted that his pride would never allow him to pay suit to her. Why did such a gulf separate her from the one man she desired?
“Speaking of desires," Lady Russell continued, handing Mariah an ivory-handled fan, "I must offer one word of warning, my dear. During a house party, it is best to ignore any unusual sounds you may hear in the night.”
“What do you mean, my lady? Are you implying the duke’s house is haunted?”
“No, my dear.” Lady Russell chortled as she took up her fan. “Although the ghost of the former abbot is said to appear beneath an oak beside the church, I assure you the disturbances of which I speak are of a decidedly corporal nature.”
CHAPTER FOUR
"Jealousy is the jaundice of the soul."- John Dryden