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Cassandra swallowed a bite of her ice cream and gave Fiona a wistful look. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Perhaps Lord Gregory will be the sort of husband who will allow you the freedoms you desire. And he may very well support Mrs. Tucket, especially if he loves you and sees how important she is to you. I think a marriage with love or at least mutual respect and care is the greatest freedom we can hope for.”
Love? Fiona hadn’t contemplated that at all. She was fairly certain her parents hadn’t loved each other. She wasn’t surewhat that even looked like. She did know that she hadn’t loved anyone, not beyond her parents, and that was different.
“Why do you think that?” Fiona asked.
“Because marriage is the societal ideal. Without it, we will always be lacking in the ton’s eyes, whether we have the financial ability to live independently or not. I hope I can find a caring husband. It’s just easier than the alternatives,” Cassandra said, plunging her spoon into her dish. “My father insists I become betrothed by the end of May or he’s going to arrange a suitable marriage. I suspect that will diminish my chances for an amiable union.”
Prudence lifted a shoulder. “Occasionally, an arranged marriage works out well. King George and Queen Charlotte were quite happy before, well, before.”
Fiona knew what she meant—before the king had become ill and his son had been made Regent.
Cassandra waved her spoon. “While that may be true, his eldest son and his arranged wife quite despise each other.”
“There is only one solution,” Fiona declared. “We must pool our pin money and run away. Where shall we go?”
Cassandra giggled.
Prudence raised her hand. “If I also contribute funds, may I come along?”
“Of course!” Fiona and Cassandra answered in unison before they all dissolved into laughter.
“Sounds like you’re having quite a gay time.”
Fiona recovered herself and looked up at the woman who’d approached their table. Petite with pale skin and blonde hair, the woman fixed her blue eyes on Cassandra first. “Good afternoon, Lady Cassandra.”
“Lady Bentley.”
Fiona noted the tightness in Cassandra’s voice and surmised she didn’t care for the new arrival.
Cassandra offered Lady Bentley a weak smile. “Allow me to present my friend, Miss Fiona Wingate and her companion, Miss Lancaster.”
Fiona rose and curtsied, as did Prudence. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She tried to remember who Lady Bentley was. The name was familiar, probably from Debrett’s, but Fiona couldn’t place the title.
Lady Bentley turned her bright blue gaze on Fiona. “Miss Wingate, are you Lord Overton’s ward? It seems you are. I heard about your presentation to the queen.”
Of course she had.
“How charming of you to bring that up,” Cassandra said, her voice and features carrying a sharp edge.
“Yes, well, it was quite the story.” Lady Bentley laughed, a soft but wholly grating sound. At least to Fiona. “I did feel sorry for Overton. He’s had such a bad time of things since I chose Bentley over him.”
Fiona couldn’t think of what to say to that surprising revelation. Why on earth would this woman have chosen anyone besides Overton? He was witty, thoughtful, handsome, caring. “Has he? He seems in rather good spirits to me.” Fiona looked to her tablemates. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Most definitely.” Cassandra blinked in what appeared to be mock ignorance at Lady Bentley. “Did you actually choose Bentley, or was the choice made for you? I can’t imagine why you’d choose him over the earl.” Her eyes rounded briefly before she leaned toward Fiona and whispered, though not quietly enough that Lady Bentley couldn’t hear, “Bentley’s opinion of himself wasn’t quite so inflated then. Also, his fatherisa duke.” She pursed her lips.
Lady Bentley’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t attempt to kidnap me to Gretna Green, as Overton did. Overton would have madea terrible husband. Autocratic and cold, as his father was known to be.”
Fiona didn’t believe for a moment that her guardian would kidnap anyone. Nor did she believe the other things Lady Bentley said about him. “I’ve never known Lord Overton to be anything but warm and kind. Perhaps you misunderstood his intentions.”
“Oh yes, that must be it,” Cassandra said eagerly. “I’d wager the truth is that he offered to kidnap Bentley so he could avoid the parson’s trap.”
“You are not at all amusing,” Lady Bentley said with considerable affront.
Cassandra adopted a sober expression and lowered her voice to a remorseful tone. “My apologies. I thought you were jesting, and we were simply playing along.”
“Well, good day.” Lady Bentley turned on her heel and stalked toward the door, her maid following quickly behind.
“What an unpleasant woman,” Prudence murmured.