Convenient Proposal To The Lady. Julia Justiss

she found Lady Aldermont still at her dressing table.

      ‘Sorry I slept so late, darling,’ her mother said—before catching a glimpse of her in the dressing table’s mirror. ‘Merciful Heavens, child!’ she said with a gasp. ‘Wherever have you been, wearing that hideous old gown?’

      ‘Just sketching, Mama. It was still very wet after yesterday’s rain and I didn’t wish to soil any of the lovely dresses you brought for me. None of the guests were up, so I got out and back without being seen.’

      ‘Sketching, always sketching,’ Lady Aldermont said fretfully. ‘If only you’d paid a fraction as much attention to the things that really matter during your London Seasons, we wouldn’t be reduced to attending this dreary series of house parties in dismally remote locations!’

      ‘I know you hate being out of London,’ Alyssa said, suppressing a guilty pang at the knowledge that it was the chance to sketch in different areas of England that prompted her to press for attending the ‘dreary series of house parties’.

      ‘At least in town, there’s visiting and shopping and a variety of company. Here, we are condemned to see the same faces day after day.’

      Putting down her supplies, Alyssa walked over to pat her mother’s hand. ‘Has Lady Sutherland been plaguing you?’

      ‘Insufferable woman!’ Lady Aldermont cried. ‘If she’s not crowing about the brilliant marriage her eldest made, snagging the Duke of Wessex, she’s waxing eloquent about the beauty and accomplishments of Lady Alice. All this said with pitying glances at me.’

      Alyssa sighed. ‘I know what a disappointment I’ve been to you, Mama.’

      Though that was patently true, her mother seized her hands. ‘Of course you haven’t, my darling! Well, I do wish some gentleman—some eligible gentleman—had caught your eye after your come-out. I still think it most unwise that your Papa refuses you another Season, for I know he wishes you to wed and the selection at these smaller parties is so limited! It just grates on me when I see those empty-headed chits celebrated, when you, who are far more accomplished, are overlooked!’

      Little brown wrens are always overlooked when there are beauteous swans about, she thought. Her mama had been one of them, the most beautiful, sought-after and well-dowered maiden of her debut Season, thirty years ago. Alas, though she’d inherited her mama’s short stature, she’d not received the golden hair, the arresting face or the summer-sky-blue eyes that had inspired suitors to write verses in her honour and propose in droves.

      ‘There’s no accounting for the taste of gentlemen,’ she said, giving her mama a kiss. ‘Why don’t you pick out your favourite of my new gowns for me to wear?’

      Mentioning fashion was guaranteed to redirect her mama’s thinking into more cheerful channels. Brightening, Lady Aldermont said, ‘Yes, I will! Several of the gentlemen have been paying you a flattering amount of attention; we must inspire them to continue!’

      And it certainly hasn’t been because of my charms, Alyssa thought, frowning as she remembered Tawny’s warning.

      ‘Surely, my dear, out of all the single men about, you might find one to your liking. Is it so wrong of me to want to see you wed and settled, with a house of your own and children?’

      Alyssa noted her mother wasn’t hypocritical enough to add ‘happy’ to that description—her mama’s own marriage having given her little reason to expect wedded bliss for her daughter. ‘You never give up hope, do you, Mama?’

      ‘It would be so much better, if you could find a kind man you could tolerate as a husband,’ her mother said coaxingly.

      ‘Better than living under Papa’s thumb,’ she admitted. In the face of her father’s stern, tyrannical rule, her mother had always been too timid to please him, she too rebellious. Or rather, she had tried to please him when she was little, before she realised earning his approval was impossible. Since the incident three years ago, they’d regarded each other with active hostility.

      ‘But if I married, my new husband would get control over Aunt Augusta’s money, so I still wouldn’t be able to use it for what I want.’

      The ability to live independently and pursue her heart’s calling.

      ‘Yes, but you would have friends and society around you—rather than being alone and isolated in that cottage you talk about! And you know Papa will not let you use the funds for that. Only think of the scandal, an earl’s unmarried daughter living all on her own!’

      Alyssa sighed, unable to dispute the truth of that. With her father named a trustee on the fund, unless she married, she’d need his approval to access the money. As of now, she’d not figured out a way to convince him to allow her to set up a separate household, which is why she had not, yet, approached him with her intention to do so.

      ‘I expect I shall devise some way to bring Papa around. In any event, with luck, he’ll predecease me.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ her mama said. ‘The Lambornnes are distressingly long-lived.’

      Sadly, Alyssa had to admit the truth of that daunting observation. Would there still be time for her to make a life for herself and accomplish the work that drove her, if she truly couldn’t begin until after Papa died?

      She must come up with a better alternative than waiting for the Earl of Aldermont to cock up his toes.

      First, though, she needed to deal with this despicable wager.

      Due to Mr Tawny’s unexpected appearance, she’d not finished her drawing today. Over the summer, she had completed twenty more watercolours and needed only a few more to be able to contact Mr Waterman in London about putting together that colourised book of English birds he’d expressed such enthusiasm about to Will. If she could just get her hands on her money, so she might travel to the more remote regions and finish the final sketches before the deadline he’d given...

      With Will gone, she’d need to find someone else to approach the publisher on her behalf, she thought, the familiar, sharp wave of grief sweeping through her.

      I will finish the sketches and get them published, as you would have wanted, she silently promised him.

      Then Molly was back, fitting her into one of the explosions of lace, ribbons and ruffles her mama so adored. Since, in her opinion, the enormous sleeves and ballooning skirts made her look ridiculous—almost as wide as she was tall, she’d overhead one malicious maiden remarking—it was fortunate she had no desire to attract any of the eligible swains gathered for this party.

      Tapes and pins secured, she told her mama, ‘I’m going to stop by the library. I’ll see you in the drawing room.’ Giving her mother a kiss, she hurried out before Lady Aldermont could object.

      * * *

      Hoping to catch her host before the party gathered in the parlour, Alyssa slipped down the stairs. As she entered the library, the latest London paper caught her eye. Which, quite fortuitously, carried a lengthy story on the progress of the Reform Bill.

      Snatching it up, she scanned the article. It seemed the bill, having passed the Commons in late September, was sent on to the Lords. Contrary to the expectations of its supporters and an agitated populace, instead of winning approval in the upper house, the Lords Spiritual—upper clergy who had votes in that hereditary body—summoned enough members to defeat it. The result had been riots in many areas of the country and Lord Grey pressing the King to prorogue Parliament so a new session could be summoned in December.

      Not until the very end did she find what she sought: a list of the most prominent members of the Reform committee. Which included all four of those Oxford friends she remembered her brother calling ‘Hadley’s Hellions’: Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, David Tanner Smith, Christopher Lattimar—and Benedict Tawny.

      She’d just finished the article when her host walked in. ‘Lady Alyssa!’ he cried, halting in surprise on the threshold.

      She