Gerald stuck to his course. “Elizabeth is of such good standing in society that you could leap up the ladder by several bounds.”
Dorcas gave him such a pitying look he nearly turned around and left the room. “Gerald darling, you are an earl. You do have some standing of your own. So what if we are not invited to the stuffiest balls? Why should we care?”
“That is where you will meet the cream of society.” He had verified that for himself. “You girls deserve the best.”
“The best isn’t always the highest born.” Damaris appeared quite cross with him. For a woman with her head in the stars for most of the time, she was not behaving as he expected. Damaris hardly seemed to notice real life.
“My dearest sisters, in order to obtain the best life can offer, you need husbands.”
“Certainly, if you marry Elizabeth that will ensure you will push me into the arms of the first man I meet.” Dorcas pinched the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb, her habit when she had a headache coming.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Damaris exclaimed. She got up from the table and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Dorcas could be incapacitated for days if her headache worsens.”
“And how is that my fault?” Gerald paced agitatedly, tracking the patterns in the carpet, the relentless lines of roses that led inexorably to the center of the design. He paced back. “I have done everything for you. You deserve it, all of you. I neglected you shamefully for the past few years. I should have seen to your come-out years ago.”
“You had us presented at court.” Delphi leaned back in her chair and glared at him. “That was all we asked you to do, because Mama wished it, and you had it done. We have asked for nothing else, nor have we needed anything.”
Dorcas sucked in a breath and joined her sisters in glaring at him. “We have discussed the matter, Gerald,” she said very quietly. “If you persist in marrying this woman, we will go through the season, because not to do so would appear odd. We do not wish to harm you, or have society discuss what should be our private concerns. But after, we will retire to one of the smaller estates.”
“There’s a pretty manor house in Devonshire,” Damaris pointed out.
“As long as it isn’t too close to the sea,” Dorcas said. “Salt air is awful for most plants.”
Gerald couldn’t bear that prospect. Not only was he about to marry a woman he could barely tolerate, he would have to find husbands for his sisters in the next couple of months. Either that, or watch them dwindle into old maids. He had no doubt they would carry out their threat. He would lose them, and all his dreams for them. His sisters were lovely, and striking. They could take London by storm.
However, thinking back, he recalled a few occasions when Elizabeth’s taste was less than perfect. His sisters had the dark hair he also shared, and blue eyes, although the shades varied, together with the creamy skin tone. Certain shades of green and yellow made them appear bilious, and Elizabeth had warmly recommended exactly those colors, declaring them all the crack. For his sisters, not for herself.
He might almost call her a scheming hussy. “I must go down soon,” he said, “she’ll be missing me. If I do the unthinkable and call off the wedding, will you promise to stay with me until you find suitable husbands?”
The women exchanged another series of glances, almost as if they were discussing the matter. Damaris turned to him and gave him a sharp nod. “We do not expect you to ask our approval, but we do expect the woman you marry not to give us quite so much unwanted advice.”
“Especially bad advice,” Dorcas muttered. Damaris’s hands tightened on her shoulders.
Gerald nodded, spun on his heel and left, feeling far more light-hearted than he had for, well, weeks.
Elizabeth was standing in the parlor, tapping her delicate foot. In his absence her mother had arrived. Recalling a phrase the vicar had used last Sunday, Gerald mentally girded his loins.
He pasted on his usual easygoing smile and bowed. “Good day, your grace.”
She bobbed an absolutely stiff curtsey. “My lord.”
Gerald had planned what he would say on the way downstairs. He was ready, although he didn’t relish the next half hour.
“I am glad you are here, madam,” he said to the duchess. There was no way of approaching this delicately. “I fear I have come to a conclusion which, while inevitable, will prove somewhat painful to us all. I fear Elizabeth and I are not the perfect match.”
The duchess opened her mouth. Gerald ploughed on. “In fact, I am convinced we will not suit. I regret that I have come to this conclusion so late in the day. At least it has happened before the press has been informed, and our friends must congratulate us. We had agreed to use a special license, to prevent the public intrusion of having the banns called, which is another piece of fortune. Indeed, I regret any inconvenience but I truly believe we have discovered in time what could have become a disastrous union.”