Free The Spinster Bride by Jane Goodger Page B

eyes were an unusual shade of green. She was so lovely, in fact, Marjorie wondered why, at twenty, she was still unmarried. She came from a good family, had a significant dowry, and Marjorie had never heard any scandal connected to her. These were all the reasons she’d added Miss Peterson to her list. But now that she thought of it, there had to be something wrong with her. Something niggled at the back of her mind. Perhaps she was a dimwit?
    â€œI suppose,” Charles said slowly, “that I could get used to the name. I could give her a nickname. Pet or Tuni or some such thing.”
    â€œYou cannot call your wife ‘Pet.’ It’s demeaning.”
    His gaze was still on Petunia when he said, “Then Nia. One of her syllables can certainly be used as a name.” He sounded slightly irritated.
    â€œNia isn’t too awful,” Marjorie said, wondering suddenly why she’d included the girl on her list and refusing to wonder why she suddenly didn’t want the girl on her list.
    â€œAnd who else is here from your list?”
    â€œMiss Vincent. She is sitting at the far table, so I’m afraid you won’t be able to get a very good look at her.”
    Charles strained his head a bit to spy the far table. “What color hair does she have?”
    â€œReddish.”
    â€œNo. I will not marry a red-headed girl.”
    â€œBut you’re a bit red-headed,” Marjorie said.
    â€œI am not. But I was as a lad, and I can tell you that I suffered for it. And with a red-headed wife, I’d most assuredly have red-headed children, and I’ll not have anyone call my son or daughter Ginger.” He let out a gusting sigh. “So I suppose tonight I should concentrate on Miss Peterson.”
    And that’s what he did, with a gusto that Marjorie found a bit amusing and Miss Peterson seemed to find a bit frightening. The group had perhaps an hour before the concert began, during which many of the men went outside to smoke a cigar and sneak a sip or two from their flasks. Miss Adelina Patti did not allow smoking in the building when she was performing.
    Charles did give the men who were outside enjoying their cigars a look of longing, but then asked Marjorie for an introduction.
    â€œI have to stand by my aunt for now. Mother has too many friends here and it wouldn’t do for one of them to mention I’d been at your side all evening. My aunt and I will make our way over to Miss Peterson, and then you can join us and I can make introductions.”
    He nodded and moved off without a word, leaving Marjorie to find her aunt. She found Gertrude sitting in a corner with two of her dearest and oldest friends, and Marjorie felt a twinge of guilt that she would have to drag her aunt away.
    After greeting the older women, Marjorie said, “I’m sorry, Aunt, but Mother insists that I mingle at these events, as tedious as it is. Would you mind walking about with me? Then I will safely return you to your friends.”
    â€œMy goodness, there’s no need to apologize to me! I raised three daughters, you know. Of course you know. They’re your cousins!” She let out a laugh as she stood up.
    Marjorie was well aware of her cousins and of their marriages to well-placed men—all titled and all rather nice. Her mother would never admit it aloud, but Marjorie knew it bothered her mightily that her sister had managed to get three daughters married and she’d not succeeded in getting even one down the aisle.
    Her aunt scanned the room, no doubt homing in on all the eligible men. “Pity,” she said softly.
    â€œWhat’s a pity, Aunt?”
    â€œOh, nothing.” But her aunt’s eyes were trained on someone across the room. Marjorie followed her eyes and felt her face flush. He did look rather magnificent standing in that group of older men. It was almost as if he were thrumming with vitality while the other men were mere husks of humanity.