Page 13 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)
Chapter Eleven
M arianne stood in her sitting room surveying the results of Lord Alton's "improvements" and felt her heart sink further with each perfectly arranged detail.
The wildflowers she'd gathered that morning had been replaced with formal roses from Mrs. Smith's cutting garden.
Gerald had been banished to the kitchen ("roosters are not appropriate drawing room companions"), Napoleon relegated to the back garden ("nautical terminology is unsuitable for polite conversation"), and even Wellington had been exiled to the morning room ("dogs can be.
.. distracting during serious discourse").
At first, she’d silently balked at his consideration.
Of all the ridiculous pompous notions, to think he could command her, correct her, in such a way.
But as she’d played along hoping he damned himself with every word, she’d paused to listen and despite her best efforts, his words had sunk home in a way that might be difficult to lift.
Was she in need of some adjustments? Was she not good enough just as she’d been allowing herself to feel?
The room looked impeccable. It also looked like it belonged to someone else entirely.
Strategic presentation , she thought bitterly, adjusting the stiff arrangement of roses for the third time. Emphasizing strengths while minimizing concerns.
Apparently, everything that brought her joy was a concern to be minimized.
Marianne caught sight of herself in the mirror above the mantelpiece and barely recognized the woman staring back.
Mrs. Smith had arranged her hair in an elaborate style that required enough pins to construct a small building, and she'd been corseted into her most formal afternoon dress—a creation in deep blue silk that was undeniably elegant and completely uncomfortable.
She looked like a perfect lady. She felt like a fraud.
The worst part was that Lord Alton had delivered his helpful advice with such obvious good intentions.
He genuinely believed he was helping her find happiness by teaching her to hide everything that made her happy.
The fact that he couldn't see the contradiction would have been amusing if it weren't so heartbreaking.
Any sensible man would value your compassion, your intelligence, your energy , he'd said. The right gentleman would see past the surface unconventionality to appreciate your genuine worth.
Past the surface unconventionality. As if her love for her animals, her impulsive kindness, her joy in chaos were flaws to be overlooked rather than integral parts of who she was.
Marianne moved to the window and spotted Lord Alton approaching through the garden, looking as impeccably dressed as always. He'd changed into evening attire that emphasized his broad shoulders and military bearing, and she had to admit he cut a striking figure.
A striking figure who thought she needed to be fundamentally altered to be worthy of any decent man's attention.
The irony was devastating. For weeks, she'd been finding herself increasingly drawn to his proper, disciplined neighbor. She'd begun to hope that perhaps his growing kindness toward her meant he was seeing past her unconventional lifestyle to appreciate the woman beneath.
Instead, he'd made it crystal clear that he found her natural self so unsuitable for marriage that he was willing to help her attract someone else—anyone else—rather than consider the possibility that she might be worthy of affection exactly as she was.
You deserve better than the sort of men your family has been inflicting upon you , he'd said. But apparently she didn't deserve him. She deserved someone who could be trained to tolerate her after she'd been properly managed and presented.
A knock at the door interrupted her increasingly bitter thoughts. Lord Pembroke, no doubt, arriving to meet the carefully edited version of herself that Lord Alton had deemed acceptable for courtship.
"Lady Marianne," Mrs. Smith announced, "Lord Pembroke has arrived."
"Show him in, please," Marianne replied, settling herself in the chair Lord Alton had designated as "most advantageous for displaying proper posture."
Lord Pembroke entered with the confident stride of a man accustomed to being welcomed wherever he went.
He was handsome in a conventional way—tall, well-dressed, with the sort of features that suggested good breeding and regular meals.
Exactly the kind of man who would appeal to someone seeking a safe, predictable choice in marriage.
"Lady Marianne," he said, executing a perfect bow. "Thank you for receiving me. Your brother-in-law spoke so highly of your many accomplishments."
"Lord Pembroke," Marianne replied, rising to curtsy as Lord Alton had reminded, as if she didn’t know the basics of good manners. "Please, be seated. I've taken the liberty of arranging tea."
As she poured tea with the precise movements Mrs. Smith had drilled into her during her youth, Marianne found herself acutely aware of Lord Alton's presence in the morning room.
She couldn't see him, but she could feel his attention like a weight, assessing her performance against his standards of proper courtship behavior.
Attentive listening , she reminded herself as Lord Pembroke began discussing his recent travels. Thoughtful questions about his interests.
"How fascinating," she said aloud, and to her surprise, found that Lord Pembroke's account of his Grand Tour was actually quite engaging. He had a talent for storytelling and had clearly paid attention to more than just the usual tourist attractions. "And what impressed you most about Rome?"
"The architecture, naturally, but also the ingenuity of their ancient systems. Their aqueducts, for instance—remarkable engineering that we could learn from today." His eyes lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "I spent considerable time studying their approaches to urban planning and public works."
Marianne found herself genuinely interested despite her earlier pessimism. "Did you document your observations? Such information could be valuable for estate improvements."
"Indeed I did. I believe modern landowners have a responsibility to study effective systems, whether ancient or contemporary.
" Lord Pembroke leaned forward slightly.
"I was particularly interested in their approaches to.
.. shall we say... social infrastructure.
How they managed to care for their most vulnerable citizens while maintaining civic order. "
"I'm sure the contrast with English society was quite marked," she said, finding herself more engaged than she'd expected.
"In some ways, yes. Though I was struck by how universal certain challenges are—the need to balance individual freedom with social responsibility, the importance of creating systems that protect those who cannot protect themselves.
" He paused thoughtfully. "I imagine such considerations are quite relevant to your charitable work here in Somerset. "
Marianne felt a flicker of surprise. "You know about my charitable work?"
"Your brother-in-law mentioned your involvement with local causes. I confess I'm quite interested to hear more about it."
One's breeding shows. Marianne took a careful sip of tea to avoid saying something inappropriately sharp. His interest was highly suspect. Lord Pembroke was exactly the sort of man who would dismiss her foundling charity as inappropriate concern for people whose breeding didn't show sufficiently.
"You must be eager to settle back into English society after so much travel," she said, following Lord Alton's script for encouraging personal confidences.
"Quite eager. Travel is educational, but a man needs roots.
A proper estate, meaningful work, the opportunity to contribute something lasting to society.
" Lord Pembroke leaned forward slightly.
"I understand you've been managing significant properties since your husband's death.
That shows remarkable capability and dedication. "
There was genuine respect in his voice, and Marianne found herself sitting up straighter. "I've found estate management quite... engaging."
"I imagine you have. It's no small undertaking, managing complex holdings while maintaining community relationships and pursuing charitable work." His smile was warm. "I confess I'm impressed by your energy and commitment."
She dipped her head, a faint warmth in her face surprising her. He seemed so sincere. "Thank you. I do find even joy in it.”
"And you plan to continue such work after remarriage? I hope so—it would be a waste to abandon such obvious competence for the sake of convention."
Marianne blinked in surprise. This was not the response she'd expected. "You wouldn't find it... inappropriate... for a wife to maintain such responsibilities?"
"Inappropriate? Goodness, no. If you have a talent for estate management, it would be foolish to waste it.
" Lord Pembroke's expression grew more serious.
"I spent considerable time in Italy studying their approaches to partnership—not just in marriage, but in business and civic life.
I find the English tendency to limit women's contributions rather. .. backward."
"How... refreshing," Marianne said, and meant it. "Most gentlemen seem to find independent women rather alarming."
"Most gentlemen are fools," Lord Pembroke said with a laugh. "Though I suppose that works in favor of those of us who appreciate intelligence and capability in our partners."
From the garden came the faint sound of Clarence's indignant shriek—apparently the peacock had opinions about being excluded from the house during visiting hours. Lord Pembroke paused, tilting his head with interest.
"What a magnificent sound! Is that a peacock?"
"Yes, that's Clarence. I'm afraid he's rather... dramatic about being excluded from social occasions." Marianne waited for the usual polite horror about keeping exotic birds as pets.