Free Marjorie Farrell by Lady Arden's Redemption

were not so awful here, I would ask Lady Arden for tea to see her for myself. Then I’d know if my intuition about her is correct.”
    “You and your strong intuition, Aunt!”
    “Don’t laugh at it, Nephew,” she said, smiling at his teasing. “I am very good at judging people and well you know it. I would not have survived my forays into Seven Dials if I were not. I can always tell which young women might be receptive to my pamphlets and which are too blue-ruined to care anymore.”
    “I have seen you in action, Aunt Kate, and I must agree,” said Gareth, rising out of his chair. “I must change for the evening, but I will try to get back here fairly early tonight.”
    “Now don’t cut your entertainment short on my account, Gareth,” protested the marchioness.
    “Believe me, Aunt Kate, I find this social whirl far more exhausting than any forced march I’ve been on. I welcome an early evening.” Gareth pushed back his chair and laid down his napkin. Walking over to his aunt, he leaned down to kiss her. She reached up, and putting her hand on his cheek, said, “Thank you, dear, for coming back tonight.” As he left, his aunt continued softly, “For my other strong feeling is that your uncle will not last until morning.”
     

Chapter 13
     
    Although Arden had not been convinced by her initial conversation with her father, Celia’s betrothal and Gareth’s comments had brought home to her the reality of her position. Itwas true: she would not receive any offer this Season. Not that this was a tragedy, she hastily reassured herself. First, she had not met anyone she wished to marry. And second, many young women did not succeed in making a match their first Season. And third, she wasn’t that interested in marriage. She had liked her life at Stalbridge with Ellen and Celia. She had missed her father, but their female household had well-suited her. She knew that someday she would need to marry. There was no other choice for a woman. But why rush into a state that would in many ways curtail her freedom and bring an enforced intimacy with a man? Men were nothing special. They were tall and birdlike or squat and toad-like. She had met no one who could match her wit and her tongue. Well, perhaps Captain Richmond, but he was not so much witty as imperturbable. He had made an impression on her because he could not be impressed.
    Arden was not unconscious of the fact that while she enjoyed wielding the power of her intelligence, she did not as much enjoy others giving in to it. Aunt Ellen and Celia had let her dominate them. And now, so had some of the gentlemen of the ton . She wanted, although she barely knew it, someone who could counter her intelligence with his own, who would not be cowed by her, whom she could not rule, the way she subtly ruled her cousin and aunt. She had enjoyed naming people, but there was something in her waiting for one of them to laugh and name her back, in jest and in all seriousness. She felt that she herself had become a caricature of a bird of prey, perched above all, just waiting to stoop and seize. She wasn’t waiting for a man to hood and jess her—oh, no. She wanted, although she could not have put it into words, someone who could meet her wildness with his own, and show her that one does not harm when it is unnecessary, and that all are vulnerable, even the wildest and proudest hawk.
    Having decided that she was not going to receive an offer this Season, it made no sense to her to attend Lady Forsythe’s ball that night. She was tired of trying to pretend that her dance card was full and she did not want another encounter with Captain Richmond. This morning’s had been quite enough.
    And so she came down the stairs that evening dressed for a night at home.
    “Why, Arden,” said Mrs. Denbeigh, “did you not remember we are due at the Forsythes’ this evening?”
    “I am tired and have had the headache this afternoon, Aunt Ellen. I have decided to stay home.”
    “Do