Read Online Let It Be Love by Victoria Alexander - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Victoria Alexander
Tags: Historical
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sit up on the chaise. “She sees us all as the daughters she’s always wanted, and I for one quite like having a mother around, even if she’s not my own.”
“I think Mother would have liked Aunt Edwina’s plans for us, for a season and whatever else she has in mind.” Gen nodded. “Mother would have especially liked how much Aunt Edwina likes, well, us.”
The girls’ mother, Fiona’s stepmother, had died shortly after Fiona’s eighteenth birthday when Gen was ten and the twins barely nine years of age. The younger girls had spent much of their lives without a mother and even in the scant week they’d been in London, Aunt Edwina had proven to be a delightful substitute. She was thoughtful and wise and thus far hadspoiled them all in a manner only a woman who had long wanted daughters could do.
“And it’s not as if we were all Fiona’s age. Gen, Sophie and I have plenty of time to find suitable husbands.” Belle cast a pointed glance at Fiona. “Of course, just how suitable depends on whether or not we have a dowry.”
“I am well aware of that.” Fiona’s voice was grim.
“Perhaps you should pay a call on Lord Helmsley rather than waiting for him to call on you?” Gen said. Fiona shook her head. “It wouldn’t be all proper.”
“Proper?” Belle scoffed. “And it was proper to ask him to marry you in the first place?”
“You could bring Oliver with you and no one could complain about that.” Sophie leaned forward. “Of course, you would have to tell Oliver everything first.”
“It can’t be avoided, I suppose.” Fiona wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to tell Oliver what had transpired in the Effington House library.
It was entirely possible that she didn’t want Oliver, or anyone, to know that Jonathon Effington was more than likely the one man in all the world that she wouldn’t mind marrying under these circumstances, or any circumstance, for that matter. It sounded absurd, even to her, but there you had it. It was even more ridiculous when she considered that, in the nine years since she’d last seen him, she hadn’t given him more than an occasional passing thought—at least for the past eight years or so. Why, she had very nearly forgotten him altogether. And she had never considered him as a potential husband until Oliver had brought up his name.
It had seemed so easy when she and Oliver had come up with the idea of marriage to Jonathon. A simpleHere I am, my lord, the very woman you have always wanted, and oh, by the way, did I mention I have to marry as soon as possible? But once alone with Jonathon, it had been difficult to get the words out. In truth, it all felt unseemly and more than a little pathetic. Not to mention desperate. Certainly she was desperate, but still…
Now he was the only one she wanted and their meeting in the library only made her want him more. She had long wondered what it would be like to be the lady in the library with Jonathon Effington on Christmas Eve. Had wondered from the moment she had seen him in that very room nine years ago. She and her family were to embark for France a few days after Christmas Day, 1845. Her parents had been invited to the Effington Christmas Ball and even though Fiona had barely turned seventeen, she’d been allowed to attend because, as her stepmother had said, who knew how long it would be before Fiona had the chance to attend her next London ball?
The Christmas Eve event was everything Fiona had ever dreamed a grand ball would be. Decorations wrought from greens and ribbons festooned every nook and cranny. Music and laughter filled the air. Skilled dancers whirled about on the ballroom floor in an endlessly changing kaleidoscope of bright colors and flashing jewels. Lovely ladies in the latest French fashions flirted with dashing men in fine formal attire. But none was more dashing than the young Jonathon Effington. Fiona had seen Jonathon from across the room and he had quite taken her breath away. Upon
“I think Mother would have liked Aunt Edwina’s plans for us, for a season and whatever else she has in mind.” Gen nodded. “Mother would have especially liked how much Aunt Edwina likes, well, us.”
The girls’ mother, Fiona’s stepmother, had died shortly after Fiona’s eighteenth birthday when Gen was ten and the twins barely nine years of age. The younger girls had spent much of their lives without a mother and even in the scant week they’d been in London, Aunt Edwina had proven to be a delightful substitute. She was thoughtful and wise and thus far hadspoiled them all in a manner only a woman who had long wanted daughters could do.
“And it’s not as if we were all Fiona’s age. Gen, Sophie and I have plenty of time to find suitable husbands.” Belle cast a pointed glance at Fiona. “Of course, just how suitable depends on whether or not we have a dowry.”
“I am well aware of that.” Fiona’s voice was grim.
“Perhaps you should pay a call on Lord Helmsley rather than waiting for him to call on you?” Gen said. Fiona shook her head. “It wouldn’t be all proper.”
“Proper?” Belle scoffed. “And it was proper to ask him to marry you in the first place?”
“You could bring Oliver with you and no one could complain about that.” Sophie leaned forward. “Of course, you would have to tell Oliver everything first.”
“It can’t be avoided, I suppose.” Fiona wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to tell Oliver what had transpired in the Effington House library.
It was entirely possible that she didn’t want Oliver, or anyone, to know that Jonathon Effington was more than likely the one man in all the world that she wouldn’t mind marrying under these circumstances, or any circumstance, for that matter. It sounded absurd, even to her, but there you had it. It was even more ridiculous when she considered that, in the nine years since she’d last seen him, she hadn’t given him more than an occasional passing thought—at least for the past eight years or so. Why, she had very nearly forgotten him altogether. And she had never considered him as a potential husband until Oliver had brought up his name.
It had seemed so easy when she and Oliver had come up with the idea of marriage to Jonathon. A simpleHere I am, my lord, the very woman you have always wanted, and oh, by the way, did I mention I have to marry as soon as possible? But once alone with Jonathon, it had been difficult to get the words out. In truth, it all felt unseemly and more than a little pathetic. Not to mention desperate. Certainly she was desperate, but still…
Now he was the only one she wanted and their meeting in the library only made her want him more. She had long wondered what it would be like to be the lady in the library with Jonathon Effington on Christmas Eve. Had wondered from the moment she had seen him in that very room nine years ago. She and her family were to embark for France a few days after Christmas Day, 1845. Her parents had been invited to the Effington Christmas Ball and even though Fiona had barely turned seventeen, she’d been allowed to attend because, as her stepmother had said, who knew how long it would be before Fiona had the chance to attend her next London ball?
The Christmas Eve event was everything Fiona had ever dreamed a grand ball would be. Decorations wrought from greens and ribbons festooned every nook and cranny. Music and laughter filled the air. Skilled dancers whirled about on the ballroom floor in an endlessly changing kaleidoscope of bright colors and flashing jewels. Lovely ladies in the latest French fashions flirted with dashing men in fine formal attire. But none was more dashing than the young Jonathon Effington. Fiona had seen Jonathon from across the room and he had quite taken her breath away. Upon
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