month?”
“Yes. Miss Demming and I are engaged to be married.”
“Engaged?” she said, her voice full of disbelief. “But I thought you met her only a few weeks ago?”
“We met in September. I asked her to marry me that day we saw you on the road, but we did not announce the engagement until last week.”
Ursula pulled her horse to a standstill, and Anthony was forced to do likewise.
“But, Tony, how can you marry someone you barely know?”
“I know her well enough to know that she is the perfect woman for me.”
Ursula shook her head, a puzzled frown on her face. “I don’t understand.”
“You will . . . someday.”
She did not answer him but nudged her horse into a trot. They covered the remaining distance to the Priory in silence.
When Wexford had dismissed Celia (for how else could she view his words save as a dismissal), she returned to the drawing room. There she sat gazing into the fire and marveling at her own stupidity.
It was true that during dinner the previous evening, she’d had a strong impression that Wexford’s behavior, his very conversation, was stilted and unnatural. But whatever made her think she could say as much to his face? She did not even know him. They were strangers. She had made the mistake of thinking that he was as forthright as Anthony. Clearly he did not appreciate it when people spoke honestly, from the heart.
She wanted above all things to be well-accepted by Anthony’s family, for she suspected how uncomfortable life would be for one who was treated as an outsider. Now she had offended Lord Wexford, leading him to believe she was an impudent meddler.
Then she sighed as she realized she was an impudent meddler. She just could not understand when she had become one.
Celia had never cultivated the science of introspection. She had always taken one day at a time, doing without question everything that her father and mother, her governess, and even her sisters asked of her. She had discovered early on that life was easiest when one was obedient. No one ever shouted or became cross, or if they did, the tempest passed quickly for the error or transgression was accidental, not willful.
She seldom concerned herself with what motivated the people around her. She filled her days with doing what she was told, and if on a rare occasion someone did ask for her opinion, she generally deferred to others.
Now she suddenly discovered that in her new role, affianced to a man of means, she had powers she had never before exercised. It was time for her to stand on her own, function as an independent person; but she was not at all convinced that she had the necessary qualities to fill this rather large and unaccustomed role.
Celia rose to her feet with determination. She would go immediately to Wexford and beg his pardon, even if it meant receiving another snub from him. Then, in future, if she should happen to be in his company, she would remember her mother’s advice and keep her opinions to herself.
She exited the drawing room and knocked firmly on the study door. There was no answer. When she saw Leech crossing the great hall, she asked if he knew where Lord Wexford was at present.
“He has gone upstairs, miss, with the doctor, who arrived a few moments ago.”
Before he had finished talking, the front door opened and Anthony and Ursula entered. Anthony smiled and greeted Celia, then said, “You remember Ursula Browne, do you not?”
“Yes, of course,” Celia replied. “How do you do, Miss Browne.”
“Is that Dr. Barrel’s gig in the stable yard, Leech?” Anthony asked.
“Indeed, it is, sir.”
“If you ladies will excuse me,” Anthony said, “I should like to go upstairs to hear what the doctor has to say.”
When Anthony turned toward the stairs, Celia smiled at Ursula. “Should you like to wait with me in the salon, Miss Browne, until Anthony returns?”
As they walked across the hall, Ursula said, “Anthony told me of your engagement,
“Yes. Miss Demming and I are engaged to be married.”
“Engaged?” she said, her voice full of disbelief. “But I thought you met her only a few weeks ago?”
“We met in September. I asked her to marry me that day we saw you on the road, but we did not announce the engagement until last week.”
Ursula pulled her horse to a standstill, and Anthony was forced to do likewise.
“But, Tony, how can you marry someone you barely know?”
“I know her well enough to know that she is the perfect woman for me.”
Ursula shook her head, a puzzled frown on her face. “I don’t understand.”
“You will . . . someday.”
She did not answer him but nudged her horse into a trot. They covered the remaining distance to the Priory in silence.
When Wexford had dismissed Celia (for how else could she view his words save as a dismissal), she returned to the drawing room. There she sat gazing into the fire and marveling at her own stupidity.
It was true that during dinner the previous evening, she’d had a strong impression that Wexford’s behavior, his very conversation, was stilted and unnatural. But whatever made her think she could say as much to his face? She did not even know him. They were strangers. She had made the mistake of thinking that he was as forthright as Anthony. Clearly he did not appreciate it when people spoke honestly, from the heart.
She wanted above all things to be well-accepted by Anthony’s family, for she suspected how uncomfortable life would be for one who was treated as an outsider. Now she had offended Lord Wexford, leading him to believe she was an impudent meddler.
Then she sighed as she realized she was an impudent meddler. She just could not understand when she had become one.
Celia had never cultivated the science of introspection. She had always taken one day at a time, doing without question everything that her father and mother, her governess, and even her sisters asked of her. She had discovered early on that life was easiest when one was obedient. No one ever shouted or became cross, or if they did, the tempest passed quickly for the error or transgression was accidental, not willful.
She seldom concerned herself with what motivated the people around her. She filled her days with doing what she was told, and if on a rare occasion someone did ask for her opinion, she generally deferred to others.
Now she suddenly discovered that in her new role, affianced to a man of means, she had powers she had never before exercised. It was time for her to stand on her own, function as an independent person; but she was not at all convinced that she had the necessary qualities to fill this rather large and unaccustomed role.
Celia rose to her feet with determination. She would go immediately to Wexford and beg his pardon, even if it meant receiving another snub from him. Then, in future, if she should happen to be in his company, she would remember her mother’s advice and keep her opinions to herself.
She exited the drawing room and knocked firmly on the study door. There was no answer. When she saw Leech crossing the great hall, she asked if he knew where Lord Wexford was at present.
“He has gone upstairs, miss, with the doctor, who arrived a few moments ago.”
Before he had finished talking, the front door opened and Anthony and Ursula entered. Anthony smiled and greeted Celia, then said, “You remember Ursula Browne, do you not?”
“Yes, of course,” Celia replied. “How do you do, Miss Browne.”
“Is that Dr. Barrel’s gig in the stable yard, Leech?” Anthony asked.
“Indeed, it is, sir.”
“If you ladies will excuse me,” Anthony said, “I should like to go upstairs to hear what the doctor has to say.”
When Anthony turned toward the stairs, Celia smiled at Ursula. “Should you like to wait with me in the salon, Miss Browne, until Anthony returns?”
As they walked across the hall, Ursula said, “Anthony told me of your engagement,
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