Page 1 of The Sainted Duchess
CHAPTER 1
“Try to breathe.” Maria Havenford tried to remind herself. It was a simple mantra, but one that felt needed. She was at the edge of Lodge’s crowded drawing room and told her body to behave.
They had been invited to a Christmas house party, which was to go on for several days. During this time, she was to meet and converse with many people. And potentially, she was to find herself a great match with whom she could see herself spending the rest of her days.
It was quite a lot to make sense of, especially for someone who was just getting used to high society.
Her hands were quiet upon her fan. She had practiced the posture in her mirror, yet every muscle now ached with the effort of appearing at ease.
Her nervousness was hard to tame, and the men were the worst part. A gentleman’s laugh burst near the card tables, and her spine went stiff on instinct. Another turned as if to approach; she took half a step behind a palm.
Nicholas saw it all. Her brother, of course. But only in name, for she knew little of him.
“Breathe,” he said lightly, as if the word were a jest. “I was going to show you the music room. Less bustle.”
“I should not like to miss anyone,” she replied. It came out prim when she meant it to sound brave.
“You needn’t prove anything tonight,” he said. There was an earnestness to it that made the back of her throat tight.
She looked at the polished floor rather than his face. She could not tell him that all of this made her nervous.
“I’m quite content where I am,” she lied.
Violet intervened, arriving with a fan. She was her brother's wife and her sister in law. Again, only in name, for she knew so little of her.
“You look lovely,” she said, tucking herself at Maria’s side as if she could make a wall out of two women and a fan. “The cream sets off your eyes.”
“I chose it because it looks ladylike,” Maria said, then wished she had not. It made her sound silly.
“You are a lady,” Violet chided softly.
“Mm,” Maria murmured. The word ladies still felt like shoes a size too small. She did not know the rules as other women seemed to. How to tilt a head so a remark landed as flirtation, not confusion. When to show the dance card, when to smile, and when not to offer it. How to walk into a room and belong to it.
“Come,” Violet coaxed, angling them along the periphery. “We will take a turn and admire dreadful portraits. Then you may choose whom not to marry.”
Maria’s grip tightened on her fan.
“I am not here to be contrary. I am here to find a husband.”
Yes, that was the point of the evening, was it not? It was her duty as a lady to secure a good match for herself.
It was not something that they had instructed her on in the nunnery. Her training as a lady had been… incomplete there, to say the least. But she had only recently learned that a ladymustfind a good husband for herself if she is to have any hope in her life; it must be this.
And so, she had taken it quite seriously. Finding a husband was the most important thing on her agenda, even though she scarcely had any confidence in her ability to do so.
Violet’s head tipped, surprised by the plainness of it.
“You needn’t marry only because everyone expects it.”
“That is not why.” Maria shook her head, heat creeping to her cheeks. “It is what I want.”
Or at least, that was what was expected of her.
“What do you want?” Violet echoed, testing the words. “Then tell me why.”
Maria opened her mouth, then closed it again. How did one explain a thing that was at once simple and impossible? That she desired a home of her own.
The more thought she had given to the prospect of marriage, the more she had found that she did want all that came attached to it. Foremost, she wished to have children whom she would raise on her own, so that she wanted to belong to someone who chose her, not rescue, not obligation.
