“Books and hounds is it then?” she whispered.
Louisa’s eyes pinched until a line appeared between them. “Oh, Eliza, you know—”
Louisa reached a hand toward her, but Eliza took a step back, her chest squeezing in familiar pain for things she’d never have.
Eliza did know.
Standing there between her beautiful sisters, Eliza could feel her plainness like a cloak, too heavy and suffocating. She wiggled her shoulders, ensuring they were perfectly square before lifting her chin. She had to remember her goal in all of this silliness. She couldn’t let her feelings of inadequacy or society’s ideas of her cloud her thinking.
Because there was something she wanted out of all of this, and her looks wouldn’t prevent it from happening.
Because every duke needed an heir.
“Perhaps we should catalog the dukes seeking wives this season and determine who it is Viv may select for my match,” she said, her practical nature coming to the fore.
Louisa, ever the one to bolster a soul, clapped her hands together and turned once more to the crush about them.
“Let’s see,” she began.
Jo gave her one last slow look, a hint of understanding in her deep eyes once more before joining her sister’s perusal of the crowd.
“Well, there’s Lyndhurst,” Louisa said.
“He breeds beagles.” Jo turned with a bright smile to Eliza.
Beagles.
Lovely.
“Bradley,” Louisa continued but quickly wrinkled her nose. “Oh, but he smells like mushrooms. I had to dance a quadrille with him once.” She laid a hand on Eliza’s arm. “I’m sure Viv will consider such a thing and remove him from the prospects.”
“Dunderton is a fool. Cheever is a silly boy.” Jo rattled off the titles of dukes like items on the list Cook took to market every week. “Matthews isn’t too bad, I should think.”
Isn’t too bad.
That was where she had landed. Her future depended on isn’t too bad.
She clasped her hands together, twining her fingers until knuckle rubbed knuckle, willing her unspoken desires to go away.
Her desire for more.
For more than just a good match. For a respectable gentleman to call her husband. For a good name that would bolster the title of Ravenwood.
For a family of her own.
She had to keep her focus on that. Through all of this, from society’s judgements to being treated like a specimen on the block, she had to remember what she would get in the end.
A babe to hold in her arms, a child to watch grow.
Someone to love her when no one else did.
She would be lucky to be anything other than spinster, and a loveless marriage was surely no cause for concern if it meant she would finally get the child she so desired.
“Nevins is a good man. I’ve heard Andrew say as much,” Louisa said before falling back on her heels so quickly they made a snapping nose against the marble of the ballroom floor. “Oh.” The syllable was so soft she may not have spoken it at all.
“What is it?” Eliza stepped forward, blood surging through her limbs as if discovering them for the first time.
Louisa slid a glance to Jo, a small smile tugging at her lips. Jo tilted her head before going up on her toes to see where Louisa had been looking. She landed flat on her feet with a soft snort as she tried to stop a smile from forming.
“Oh indeed,” she breathed.
Eliza looked between the two of them. “Whatever is the matter?”
Defeated, Louisa let the smile come to her lips. “I had heard His Grace, the Duke of Ashbourne had returned to the marriage mart.”
The blood drained from Eliza’s head. Surely not. No. Viv couldn’t—
Jo’s smile was equally as filled with silly young girl nonsense. “The Jilted Duke, back for more.” She peered around the crowd as if to catch a glimpse of him again. “I’m surprised he’s having another go at it. What with what happened and all.”
“What happened?” The question came out stilted, and both sisters gave her a blank stare. She put her hands to her hip. “You know I am not one to stay abreast of society gossip.”
Jo shook her head. “This wasn’t gossip. Ashbourne’s jilting occurred in the middle of a ball for all of the ton to witness.”
“He’d arranged the ball as a formal proposal to the woman he thought he had an understanding with. Only she didn’t show.” Louisa’s smile slipped from her face, and the line appeared between her eyes again. “It was quite sad actually. She’d run off with his best friend to Gretna Green. Or so the rumors went.” Louisa peered back over her shoulder where presumably they’d spotted the duke in question. “I can’t imagine wishing to find a wife after that.”
“I would think the marriageable ladies of society don’t feel that way.” Jo’s smile tilted into a smirk.
“Whatever do you mean?” Eliza was not at all enjoying where their conversation was going.
Again, her sisters blinked at her with odd expressions.
“Because he’s gorgeous,” Jo blurted out.
Eliza’s gaze darted to Louisa, who nodded emphatically.
“It’s true. He’s quite handsome. Any girl would be lucky to scoop him up. Mmmm, simply remarkable.” She put one hand to her hip as she seemed to consider just how delectable the Duke of Ashbourne was.
Eliza regarded both of her sisters, seemingly lost in their own imaginings of snaring the Jilted Duke for themselves.
“I’ve never heard you speak like this,” she finally said, and she heard exactly how silly she sounded.
Louisa’s gaze snapped back first. “We speak like this all the time.”
“We just figured you wouldn’t care for such things, so we never invited you to join in,” Jo clarified.
Eliza struggled to keep her mouth closed. “Do you really think about eligible gentlemen in these terms?”
They exchanged glances.
“Of course,” Louisa said while Jo shrugged. “Why not?”
Because it was far more likely for Louisa and Jo to fetch a handsome husband and thus make the discussion of a man’s attractiveness a likely subject for debate. Eliza’s nerves settled with a thud in the pit of her stomach.
What had she to worry over truly? Viv would find a dull, suitable match for her and that would be it. She’d be married and with child within the year. She need only remember that when her nerves returned.
The crowd parted on a wave of emerald silk, and the sister of most importance that night spilled into their small square of ballroom floor.
Viv looked neither crumpled nor frazzled from having made her way through the crowd and simply pressed a hand to an errant strand of auburn hair along her forehead, pressing it back into place as if hurtling oneself through a ball required the most modest of exertions.
“There you three are,” she said, running her hands along her skirts even though the emerald silk remained pristine. “I trust you have not wasted time chattering about over here and have filled your dance cards for the evening.”
Louisa raised her hand, brandishing her dance card like a cat presented a dead mouse to its master, all pride and glee. “I’ve filled every slot with eligible young men worthy of a connection with Ravenwood.”