Page 10 of The Wallflower Ruse

“Pull the brow of your bonnet forward and look down at your hands,” he said as they drove away. “Just until we get to the London road.”

“What a pity I don’t have a veil,” she said. “If I’d been thinking clearly after quarrelling with my mother, I would have dressed as a boy.”

“Seriously?” Poor man, he sounded shocked. She sensed that he was gaping at her, but she couldn’t risk looking up. “You wouldn’t have convinced anyone. Too much bosom, for one thing.”

Horrid man! She felt herself flushing. “There are ways to conceal such, er, attributes. I would have been safer as a boy,” she said, and hastened to add, “not that I was worried about that.”

“You must have had quite a dust-up with your mother,” he said sardonically, “to take such a risk.”

“It wasn’t unusual, merely the last straw. She smashed her vinaigrette when I refused to trap you. Later, when I refused again, she threw her tea cup and ordered me to my room with nothing but bread and water until I obeyed.”

“Good Lord,” he said. “How absurd.”

“Yes, she has completely lost control of herself. She has always been difficult, but my father was able to manage her. Since he died, and with Matthew still on the Continent, she has become unreasonable to the point of folly. She insists on her way, no matter how ridiculous or beyond her ability—such as forcing me to wed you or anyone else—and tried several times to dismiss servants who have been with us forever. Fortunately, everything to do with the estate, including hiring and dismissing of servants, is in the hands of the family solicitor.” She sighed. “Now that my sister is Humphrey Ball’s problem, I feel free to leave.”

“Surely you can’t stay with your old governess forever.”

“No, I shall have to earn my keep for a couple of years until I gain control of my fortune. Not that it’s much—about two hundred pounds a year—but it will suffice. In the meantime, I’ll be a governess or a teacher.”

“That sounds dismal.” For a few moments, he was fully occupied with guiding the curricle onto the London road. “You may raise your head now. Drop your eyes if another vehicle approaches.”

For a while she didn’t reply, instead gazing at the fields and hedgerows as they sped past. A lark sang as it took to the sky. “I don’t find it dismal,” she said. “Even once I have my own income, I’ll probably tutor the rudiments of algebra and geometry.”

“What girl needs to learn maths?” Typical incredulous male!

“One who finds it interesting, as I did,” she retorted. “My father taught me. He believed that women are perfectly capable of working out logical problems.”

“Well, why not? A great many men are incapable of doing so. Perhaps that sort of intelligence is distributed evenly regardless of gender.” He gave a short laugh.

“Indeed it is!” she said defensively. “Why shouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged. “No reason that I know of—generally accepted notions are often wrong—but for most of your future pupils, isn’t arithmetic enough?”

“Yes, for verifying the household accounts it is,” she admitted. “Or should be, if they pay attention. I shall teach them the usual subjects, too—penmanship, history and geography, French and Italian, and so on.”

“You seem to have your future planned.” Still that annoying, sardonic tone of voice. One minute, he seemed kind, even somewhat enlightened, and the next he was coldly dismissive.

“As best I can, I have,” she said.

“More power to you,” he said, “but why are you so averse to marriage?”

~ * ~

She took a while to answer. Restive glanced at her. She was proving to be rather more interesting than he’d expected. As a child, she had been clever and outgoing, but she’d become shy, even sulky the year of her come-out, scowling much of the time, making herself distinctly unappealing, and speaking in monosyllables throughout the only dance he requested. She even yawned as if she found the whole process a dead bore.

At the time, he'd chosen to be amused rather than offended. He’d only been trying to help; dancing with him might make other men solicit a dance from her as well. But she had remained grumpy and withdrawn, effectively turning herself into a wallflower.

“Women are often just as bad,” she said. “But unfortunately, we must muddle along together if we are to perpetuate the human race.”

“Don’t you want to do that?” he asked, hoping for another blush. Unfortunately, a carriage approached from the other direction. She dropped her gaze, so he missed her blush, if there was one. “Have children, that is?”

“I’m not averse to marriage,” she said at last. “I just don’t expect to find the right man.”

“Why not? You’re well-bred and reasonably attractive. You shouldn’t have any problem finding a man willing to marry you.” Actually, she had grown up to be very pretty, with dusky curls, a lightly freckled nose, and rosy, kissable lips—and even prettier now, when fired up and defending her opinions.

He wasn’t the least bit moved by her prettiness, but he’d have to be dead not to notice. Why, he wondered, had she chosen to sit with the chaperones and wallflowers at every ball for years?

“I said the right man,” she retorted. “Not just any man who happens to be willing, or allows himself to be manipulated by my mother. I refuse to flirt and simper and try to catch someone. Because of that, I never did take during my seasons in London.”