I loosed a breath as Ingrid pulled my corset so tight I could have sworn she fractured a rib. Standing in front of the mirror, holding onto a post of my bed for dear life, I felt quite the fool. And even more so when one of the maids went so far as to place a foot on my back to pull backwards.
"Mother, honestly," I gasped out when I could finally breathe again. "What is the meaning of this? I've already secured a match."
"You have secured nothing," my mother argued, raising a brow as she stepped forward from where she had been watching the ridiculous display in the corner of the room. "The boy is interested in you, yes. It seems to be going well, yes. He seems captivated by your rebellious spirit and unfortunate manners, unbelievably. But you have no offer of marriage as of yet and until you do your waist will be so tiny that people will wonder if its simply your spine."
Another heave from Ingrid had me gasping and the maid met my gaze with an apologetic frown in the mirror.
"This is ridiculous," I ground out.
"Men are ridiculous," my mother countered. "A small waist is no good for childbearing and yet they want you breakable as a bird for courtship."
I couldn't help but smirk at that. Was my mother actually passing judgment on the male sex? How very unusual.
"Stand up straight," she barked and the moment was gone.
I did as she said, letting her dress me in a gown of wine colored silk. It was so beautiful that it had me looking up at her again.
"What's the occasion?" I asked, running my fingers over the delicate, smooth fabric.
"This ball is an annual tradition," my mother reminded me. "Even married couples wear their very best. So you will have to do more to stand out."
"Why should I need to stand out? As I said, I am already–"
"Kyrie is the most sought after gentleman of the season. Men are fickle creatures. Should Rosanna James or, heaven forbid, Lucilla Marsh emerge in some sparkling, cleavage spilling monstrosity, you must be prepared to fend off their competition."
"Competition? Mother, don't you think you're being a little bit dramatic?"
"Women are dramatic, dear. And wicked to one another. Just because you have staked first claim does not mean that none of them will attempt to take him from you."
"Take him from– mother, this is barbaric. We are a civilized society. Kyrie is his own man. Should he decide that one of the other women are a better fit for him and his future than I am, he is free to make that decision of his own accord."
"That is loser talk."
"Then a loser, I may be. But I will not trick a man into marrying me through shiny dresses and my breasts."
"Then you must think very little of half of the matches in England."
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head with a sigh.
"This is how things are done, dear," my mother informed me, striding forward and placing her hands on my shoulders. "Men are good at a great many things. Hunting and sport and managing wealth and title. But they are positively stupid when it comes to love and marriage. So we must guide them. And yes, if you have to lead Kyrie in the right direction by your breasts, then you will."
"I will pretend I did not hear a word of that," a voice spoke from the threshold and my mother and I turned to find my father standing there, hat in hand and coat already on, "because I truly wish I hadn't."
I snorted.
"Theodore, there you are," my mother said in greeting, ignoring the awkwardness of the conversation we had just been having and my father's overhearing of it. "Are you ready to go then? Norah should be ready soon as well. All we have left are the jewels."
"Then I will leave you to it. I'll have the carriage waiting when you are ready," my father answered, turning from the door and back into the hall. He paused before taking another step, however, and beamed over his shoulder at me. "You look lovely, Norah."
I couldn't help my smile at the genuine compliment from my father. Nor could I help the pang of guilt that struck me in the chest at the sight of it. I was certain that my mother was keeping my father well apprised of my ongoing courtship with Kyrie. He had been lighter lately, smiling more, as if a burden had been lifted. I realized, with no small amount of sadness, that I had been that burden. The responsibility of marrying me off to someone I might actually care for, to ensure my future success and happiness with a man he could trust, and to hope that my rebellious spirit wouldn't restrict me from finding such a match. He had been worried about it, about me. While I was off finding my purpose in the country, enjoying the simpler life, the fresh air and the farm chores, my father had been here, debating between whether or not to end my short term happiness on the off chance I might find long term joy. And this courtship with Kyrie seemed to have made it all worth it. So I felt horrible that it wasn't real, that it might hurt him more than I anticipated to someday end what was between myself and the Marquess.
Perhaps I hadn't thought this through.
"Norah," my mother said then in a tone that seemed to indicate it wasn't the first time she had said my name. I blinked back to reality, meeting her gaze in the mirror as she hovered over my shoulder in assessment of my appearance. "I said, are you ready to go?"
I nodded and followed my mother from the room without a word.
"Oh, Miss Collins," Ingrid called out suddenly, coming back down the hall toward my room with a wrapped parcel in her hands. "This just arrived for you. The footman said it came from Lord Rayfield."
I hesitated in the threshold of my room. My mother simply grinned before reaching out and giving my arm a squeeze.
"I'll be in the carriage," she told me and then strode off down the hall, leaving Ingrid and I alone with the package.
I thanked my loyal maid and took the parcel from her, turning and walking back to my room as I untied the twine wrapped around it and slipped off the paper. I let out a soft gasp when I beheld what laid within. Sleek, leather bound editions of medical encyclopedias. I pressed my palm flat against the hard cover and felt the embossing. I smiled down at them, running my fingers along the spines and reading the titles. Then I saw the note, folded and tucked into a corner of the wrapping. I plucked it out and unfurled it, reading as I did.
My cousin studied at Oxford. He left these behind when he went off to pursue his practice. I thought you might like them.
My fingers itched to turn the pages that very instant. To crack open the books and lose myself in every word, every chart, every diagram. But I was already late. So I tucked them safely beneath my bed and burned the note in the burning fireplace before striding from my room and marching down the hall toward the foyer. I couldn't keep the smile from my lips as I went. It wasn't just a gift. It wasn't just some old books that Kyrie had found in his study and had delivered to me. It was an acceptance. It was the acknowledgement of what I had confessed to him, of my passion, my purpose, and it was a gesture meant to inform me that he would not seek to steal it from me. It was everything.
As he had promised, my parents were waiting within the carriage just downstairs and in the drive. I climbed inside with them and the driver snapped the reins and we lurched off toward the other side of the city. Fulham Palace was the location of tonight's ball, the country residence of the Bishop of London set along the River Thames. It was a beautiful location and had always been my favorite when I was younger. Its gardens were legendary.
I did not stop thinking about the medical encyclopedias throughout the entire drive so that, by the time we reached the palace and made our way inside, I was already looking for Kyrie before my mother could tell me too. I was certain they were taking my eagerness to be indicative of a woman in love and unwilling to wait a moment longer to see her beloved and I gave them no reason to believe it to be due to anything else. In fact, when I saw him there, standing across the room with his usual group of friends, I couldn't stop the smile that spread upon my lips. I took a step toward him only to find myself face to face with Rosanna James.
"Rosanna," I said in greeting. "If you'll excuse me."
I made to step past her but she shifted sideways, stepping in my way again. I took a step back, brow furrowed in confusion, as two of her friends joined her, one on either side. Lucilla Marsh and Isabella Gadsden.
"What do you—" I started but they interrupted me.
"How did you do it?" Rosanna asked, hand on her hip, head bobbing as she glared at me with such hatred that I wondered how I had never known how she felt about me before.
"I'm sorry? I don't understand."
"Kyrie. How did you convince him to choose you?"
I opened my mouth and then closed it, unsure of what to say.
"Your hair is dull," she said. "Your dresses are so out of fashion. Your jewels are half rate. You missed your own debut. And I've hardly heard you say two words since you returned from... where were you again? Somewhere out in the country mucking stables and herding cattle?"
"I—"
"Do you know what they say about you? They say you were the one that had the baby. That your mother and father sent you away when you got pregnant with some commoner's bastard and now its your sister whose raising the child. That's why you were gone so long. And that's why you're back now, debuting finally so that you might find a proper match and put the scandal behind you."
My jaw dropped at that. I truly had never heard that bit of gossip before. Was that really what all of these vapid women were whispering about me all this time?
"Norah," someone spoke my name to intervene and I looked to find that it was Silvia who had come to my rescue. She was gripping my arm as though to keep me steady and that was when I realized I had started to shake. I pulled from her grasp and stilled myself, taking breaths to remain calm as Rosanna smiled victoriously down at me. Silvia looked from me to Rosanna and her gaze narrowed. "You're a miserable cow, Rosanna."
Rosanna James gaped, loudly taking offense as Silvia took my arm and pulled me from the ballroom. I felt people looking as we left but kept my head down, my cheeks burning all the way. We did not speak again until we were outside in the cool air of the gardens. I was so livid that I couldn't even properly appreciate how lovely our surroundings were.
"Is it true?" I asked when we were alone and Silvia had come to a stop, letting me walk away from her a bit to pace upon a rose petal strewn path. "Do people think I went away to have an illegitimate child?"
"Only stupid people," Silvia answered. "So it makes sense that Rosanna would."
"And you knew? You knew that this gossip was going around and you kept it from me?"
"Don't you dare accuse me of keeping secrets when you still haven't told me the truth about this courtship with Lord Rayfield."
I stopped my pacing long enough to meet my oldest friend's gaze. She quirked a brow, waiting. I sighed, letting my shoulders fall as I trudged forward and collapsed on a bench nearby. I patted the seat beside me and waited for her to join. Once she was settled, I turned to face her.
"It's a farce," I told her and her expression went entirely blank. "A ruse. It isn't real."
She hesitated for a moment, likely coming to terms with what I had told her and considering the best way to respond.
"Why?" She asked a moment later.
"There's a lot of pressure on both of us at the moment," I answered diplomatically, telling her the truth without revealing too much of mine or Kyrie's secrets. "We both needed this... freedom to figure out what it is we actually want."
"But isn't pretending to court one another keeping you from courting anyone else? Anyone for real?"
"Figuring out what we want doesn't necessarily include finding a spouse, Silvia," I snapped. She blinked at me in surprise and I sighed, reaching out to pat her hand, apologetic for my outburst. "I love you dearly but you have never understood that. Kyrie does."
"Kyrie, is it?"
I blushed, realizing my mistake.
"Our arrangement has allowed for us to become more... informal with one another," I told her.
"Has it allowed for anything else?" She asked, a knowing grin on her lips.
"No. Just kindness. Maybe a sort of friendship. And understanding. But nothing else. Because neither of us want anything else. Not now, at least."
Silvia nodded slowly, taking it all in.
"He is the most sought after bachelor of the season," she reminded me a moment later in that entirely too rational way of hers. "Arrangement or not, you've made yourself a bit of a target."
"For Rosanna James?" I asked, hardly impressed by my opposition. "She caught me off guard this evening, that's all. I can handle her."
"Not just Rosanna. Norah, there are a lot of women who aren't very happy that Lord Rayfield is off the market. Imagine how much more upset they'll be when they realize it was all for nothing."
"The feelings of the entire gathered gentry are not my responsibility, Silvia."
"No, they are not. But they may impact you anyway. Just... think about what I've said."
I nodded my understanding and she stood, smiling down at me and squeezing my shoulder before turning to walk away. I heard her footsteps falter in the gravel a moment later, her hesitation as she rushed into a curtsey.
"Lord Rayfield," she said in greeting and I sighed.
He approached the bench I was sitting on a moment later.
"May I?" He asked, gesturing toward the open seat next to me.
I nodded but kept my gaze on the fountain in front of us.
"I heard what Rosanna said," he told me, carefully.
"I didn't have a baby," I replied.
He snorted.
"I know," he said and I turned to look at him to find him smiling, amusement pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"She's a bitch."
"I know that too."
It was quiet for a moment. He didn't say anything else, didn't ask me if I was alright, didn't mention what had been said or the woman who had said it. He just sat with me, letting me breathe in the crisp night air, letting me cool my heels. It was nice, this companionable silence, and I thought then that I might have told Silvia the truth about one thing. I did seem to be becoming friends with KyrieRayfield. How strange.
"Thank you for the encyclopedias," I spoke suddenly into the quiet.
"You're welcome," he said simply and then, without another word, he stood and looked down at me, extending a hand.
I met his gaze as I took it and allowed him to lead me back into the ballroom where I remained on his arm for the rest of the night and we dazzled the crowd more effectively than ever before.