Page 24 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

I t was with that particular thought in mind that Elodia dressed herself for Ada’s soiree.

It didn’t matter what the ton thought of her in the end.

She had her friends and they were the dearest creatures in the world.

If she wanted her to attend anything then she would be at her best, bastard as she was.

If her father had taken advantage of her mother then she’d earned the velvets, silks, fine muslin and linen, pearls and diamonds for herself and for Elodia.

If she wasn’t here to enjoy them, Elodia would wear them to death, in full view.

If they didn’t have the courage to say anything to her face then that was their failing. They could choke on their whispers for all she cared.

“That dress was made by the angels for you,” Béa commented, shaking out the voluminous silk skirts of the dress.

Elodia met her eyes in the mirror and smiled.

It was one of her favorite dresses due to the fabric.

The shot silk shifted between deep burnt orange and crimson like a flame and paired perfectly with her deep brown skin.

She liked it so much she’d ordered three separate bodices for the skirt, one for travel, one for tea and a third for evenings.

The neckline for the evening bodice showed off her shoulders and puffed fashionably at her arms with rows of blonde lace.

The pleats added needed volume to her diminutive bosom.

It always made her feel beautiful and powerful.

She needed that now more than ever when she was facing an evening full of people who believed she had no business being among them.

When she would have to watch Richard give the attention she wanted so badly to women who likely didn’t care for him at all.

Or perhaps it was arrogant to imagine she was the only woman who could truly love him.

After all, she wasn’t so special, was she? She knew that now.

“Which flowers for your hair?” Béa asked, drawing the laces of the bodice.

Flowers. She’d always worn them, partly because Richard had mentioned how much they suited her. There was no point to that now. “No flowers tonight, Béa, use the pearl pins.”

“That’s different for you.”

“I just don’t want the bother tonight.” Béa had already fashioned Elodia’s long hair into a low chignon with a braid wrapped around it, leaving some curls framing her face and temples.

“Is the viscount accompanying you?” she asked. She always called her father that but it had never struck Elodia as meaningful until now.

“No.”

“Have you spoken to him as of yet about what you overheard?” she asked, giving Elodia a pointed look in the mirror.

“No,”

The answering heavy sigh spoke volumes. Béa had been only too vocal about her opinion of Lady Lewis’ words, namely that the racist busybody had merely spared Elodia the indignity of being her daughter-in-law.

“I will speak to him in my own time, Béa.”

“That and God’s face on this earth…” she mumbled as she continued tying off her bodice laces and Elodia rolled her eyes. When she was finished, Béa sighed and turned her around to face her before taking Elodia’s hands in hers, watching her carefully. “Are you sure you are up for this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You love your friends, and your willingness to go face those fools does you credit, but if it is too soon—”

“—it’s not.”

“—but if it is, there is no shame in saying so.” She stepped back as Elodia seated herself at her vanity to await her final touches on her hair.

“I thought you wanted me to go out.”

“I wanted you to get out of bed, not go paint the town unwillingly. They will still be your friends in the morning, child.”

“I know that.”

“They wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself for them.”

“That is why I want to do it. Because they would never ask it of me. I can do anything for them because they can and would do the same for me. I can bear up to this because they would never let me bear it alone, because they would never blame me for choosing myself.”

“Then why do this?”

“Because the truth is, I will never feel comfortable, but I cannot hide away. The ton would love nothing better than for me to hide away in my room. I cannot allow myself to be pushed out because of their opinion. I cannot bow to them. Do you remember what Mama always said, Béa?”

“To the strongest.”

“Yes, it is the strong who survive, Béa. Not the fastest or the fiercest, the strongest. I am still her daughter, and I am strong enough to face them.”

Béa nodded, but she still seemed unconvinced.

At most, she didn’t argue the point further, merely patted her shoulder and began adorning Elodia’s hair with her signature baroque pearls.

Elodia put on her mother’s pearl earbobs and dabbed her perfume at her wrists and behind her ears.

It was perhaps a bit more restrained than her typical look but still elegant and complementary.

Her skin was glowing at least even if her eyes weren’t.

A glance at the clock told her she had about five minutes to leave before risking an unfashionably late arrival. She snatched up her reticule and her gloves before walking down to the front door. Hopefully this way she would be able to avoid any unwanted encounters.

“Ellie,” her father’s voice rang out. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, feeling all of her confidence drain out of her body until she was nothing more than the hurt little girl who hid in her room. She took a deep breath before smiling brightly and turning to face him.

“Hello, Papa,” she chirped.

“I see you are finally ready for people again. Béa said you were over tired.”

“Yes, I fear the season isn’t nearly as diverting without Ada and Gigi.”

He watched her for a moment, as if he still didn’t quite believe her, but then he nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. You look pretty, where are you off to?” He rested his hand on her shoulder and tears stung her eyes. It was terrifying how well he played the part he’d cast himself as.

“Ada is hosting a party and she asked me to attend.”

He blinked in surprise. “Ah, so I’m on my own for dinner.”

Damn, she hadn’t thought of that. She looked down at her hands as she pulled on her gloves. “Umm, not quite. Isolde isn’t coming with me.”

“So I am having dinner with Miss Walsh?”

That could be awkward. No doubt there would be rumors about that. “Not necessarily. Perhaps she will take dinner in her room.”

He sighed and pinned her down with those blue eyes she used to love so much. “You could have told me yourself sooner.”

“Yes, that’s true. I suppose I thought someone would have told you.” A week ago, she would have felt scolded with just that look. Now she just wanted to get away; she didn’t know what she would say if she stayed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were avoiding me entirely.”

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes as if he was dismissing his temper. “It’s no matter. You’ve been in low spirits lately, so I’m glad that you are feeling better.”

“Thank you,”

“And in the future, Miss Hawthorne, do not make a habit of using an intermediary. I am your father, you are my daughter, we do not need to go through others.”

Was it only a week ago that those words would have filled her with warmth and affection?

“Yes, Papa,” Let me go, let me go, let me go.

At the silence, she glanced up to see him staring at her.

He was suspicious. She had been far too amenable.

Normally she would tease him or make jokes instead of simply agreeing.

She smiled, lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head. “Am I free to go now?”

He squinted at her playfully before shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Off with you,” he grumbled and walked away, his hands in his pockets.

She watched him leave, wondering when she would have the courage to ask the questions that plagued her.

Or when the hole in her chest would finally fill in with something other than pain.

When she would finally begin to feel like a human again instead of this automaton.

“Miss Hawthorne.”

She turned to see a footman staring at her.

“The carriage is ready for you, miss,” he said.

She nodded and followed him out the door, climbing into the carriage and letting out a deep sigh.

It was only a ten-minute drive to Ada’s.

If she gave into her tears, she would not have enough time to repair the damage.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat, clinging to the edge of the seat.

It had taken so long to get herself under control long enough to think about leaving her room, and with one conversation she was back to square one.

Desperate for answers and desperate for something, someone to show her that she still belonged somewhere.

Was it weak to want that? To need it? Was it ungrateful for Ada and Regina to not be quite enough for her to be happy? What would it take?

The carriage came to a stop, and the door opened. She could hear the music emanating from within the house. The windows were full of light. She didn’t want to go in there.

The footman stuck his head in curiously, “Are you coming, Miss Hawthorne?”

She nodded and took his hand, climbing down carefully onto the sidewalk. She gave herself a moment to pull on her gloves and then climbed the stairs to the open front door. One step in and she realized that somehow, after nearly a decade of friendship, she had managed to underestimate Ada.

Elodia had spent a good deal of her friendship with Ada believing that she and Regina were the crafty ones. Surely Ada, with her sweet naivete and easy affectionate nature couldn’t indulge in plots.