“Nobody is going to force you to marry Lord Yarrowby if you don’t wish it.” Lady Quamby patted the settee beside her, and Miss Reeves, with clear reluctance, took a seat. Venetia sent her a covert glance and saw that Lady Quamby seemed to be taking a very friendly, almost maternal approach toward the girl.
Venetia, herself, had had little to do with Miss Reeves. Not because Miss Reeves was rude or standoffish. She simply seemed not to have noticed Venetia.
“If...if only Papa would let me follow my heart.” Her voice sounded very small and, again, Venetia felt a stab of sympathy. After all, she and Sebastian had been in the same difficult situation just a few years before. Intractable papas had a great deal of power.
“And so he will, once he knows the caliber of the man you wish to have as your husband. After all, it’s not as if you’re wanting to marry someone entirely unsuitable.” Lady Quamby gave a tinkling laugh. “If you had wanted to run away with the dancing master or stable boy, then you could understand your papa taking a dim view of it.” She patted Miss Reeves’s hand. “However, the fact that Mr Wells is a perfectly eligible gentleman who can provide more than adequately for you, means your father can have no reasonable grounds for preventing a union between you.”
Venetia wasn't sure if she gasped. Someone certainly did in the tense silence that followed. A silence broken only by Miss Reeves saying in a halting, tentative voice, "Mr...Wells?”
From across the room, Venetia could see the fierce blush that had risen to Miss Reeves’s cheeks. It must echo her own, she thought with a sudden terrible awfulness.
Confused, her hand poised midair with her needle, she listened to Miss Reeves ask, “So...you think my father could be persuaded to drop his insistence that I marry Lord Yarrowby if he were to talk with...Mr Wells?"
"Mr Wells is utterly charming. How could your father not be thoroughly satisfied by such a replacement for Lord Yarrowby? It's true that Mr Wells is not titled, but he is in line to inherit from his uncle, I understand. I also believe a large part of your father's objection might stem from the fact that Mr Wells has an infant son so you would not in fact be the mother of Mr Wells’s heir—that is, if he should come into the viscountcy. But, as has been said, Mr Wells is very comfortably settled, and your father surely would not stand in the way of the happiness of his only daughter if he knew she'd be well provisioned." Lady Quamby sighed and put her hand to her breast. "Nothing should be allowed to stand in the way of true love."
True love? Venetia caught herself when she realized she must be staring, openmouthed, at Miss Reeves; though, of course, no one ever noticed the quiet companion, sitting unobtrusively in her corner. But...true love? Miss Reeves and...Sebastian?
Lady Fenton cleared her throat and addressed Miss Reeves. "Do reassure us, Arabella, that your heart is set on this? It's not some foolish flight of fancy? I know that the two of you met at a house party four months ago, but I gather you’ve not had many occasions to be together.” She hesitated. “I would hope you’ve not become estranged from your father for a trifling flirtation? Have you received a formal proposal...or just an indication that a marriage offer will be forthcoming?"
Venetia swallowed. What was the girl going to say? How had Venetia not known about this?
"I've been madly, desperately in love for months!" Miss Reeves declared, looking rather desperately toward the door. "Why, when you invited me to be your guest, I could not contain my delight at discovering that it would be possible to be united with...the only man I could ever love! I...I just need my father to understand how determined I am.”
“But my dear, has he made a formal proposal yet?”
Miss Reeves reddened. “Not yet,” she whispered.
“But he feels as you do?”
Miss Reeves bit her lip. “I...I’m almost certain he does. When we met four months ago, I was in no doubt but—”
“But what, Miss Reeves?” Lady Fenton’s question sounded a trifle sharp in the anticipatory silence, and Venetia waited with bated breath. “Tell us honestly, for that is the only way we can help you, since that is what we wish to do.”
“He seems...distracted. I was so certain he’d be delighted to see me when we met unexpectedly a few days ago. Since our first meeting, we’ve exchanged letters, and in all these months, his feelings about wanting to marry me were not in doubt! But he’s said nothing about marriage since we met again a few days ago.”
“Perhaps he was simply as surprised as you to find that you were both under the same roof and, knowing that your father was so set upon you marrying Lord Yarrowby, he was concerned that we, his hostesses, would take a dim view of a union between the two of you.” Lady Quamby seemed to think she’d hit upon this as the reason for she went on, “Nevertheless, when your papa arrives tomorrow, I have no doubt that you—and he—will make a compelling case for putting your desires above your papa’s. Mr Wells is a very persuasive young man.”
“He is? You really think Mr Wells might be the man to persuade my father out of insisting upon marriage between Lord Yarrowby and myself?" She twisted her hands in her lap as she added, “That this might be what makes Yarrowby accept, once and for all, that there can be nothing between us?”
"If anyone can do that, Mr Wells can," Lady Fenton said comfortably, just as Sebastian himself arrived upon the threshold of the room.
"And what can Mr Wells do that no one else can?"
"We were commending you on your persuasiveness." Lady Quamby resettled herself on the sofa so she could smile up at him, and Venetia had the strongest desire to slap her face as she ran, screaming, from the room.
She felt like a rabbit, trapped between adversaries, whose only salvation lay in doing what she did best: being very quiet and unobtrusive.
Lady Indigo rapped her cane on the floor, making Venetia jump. "Yet not even Mr Wells can persuade me that it's not time for my bed, or upon an early start in the morning," she said, turning to look at Venetia. "Go and see that my warming pan has been put at the end of the bed, my girl, and then report back to me. None of this dilly-dallying like last time, eh?"
Venetia rose to her feet, barely able to look at Sebastian or Miss Reeves through the gathering tears as she quit the room following a quick curtsy for her employer.
She walked quickly, her throat thick with emotion. Sebastian and Miss Reeves had formed an attachment four months ago? They’d not known each other would be at Quamby House? Now Miss Reeves was concerned that his feelings for her had waned?
Which would accord with the time Sebastian unexpectedly was reunited with Venetia.
But why had Sebastian said nothing about his past relationship with Miss Reeves?
Head bent, she walked quickly down the corridor, reaching the Great Gallery before she heard Sebastian behind her.
"Venetia!" She turned at the sound of his voice and stepped back against the window embrasure as Sebastian strode toward her, his expression quizzical. "Darling, are you all right?" He stopped before her and put out his hand, dropping it when he registered the hostility in her expression. "How have I offended you?”
She drew in a quick breath, stiffening and biting her lip as she prepared to unleash the hurt she felt. “You said you’d ended all...entanglements.” The accusation in her tone made her feel ashamed. “Decisively.”