The Rise And Fall Of Reginald Everheart. Victoria AlexanderЧитать онлайн книгу.
the Colonel, Effie would be informed of his demise. Sir Charles and Malcolm could bid their wives farewell one day and head off into the unknown never to be heard from again. Not knowing what fate had befallen the man you loved was surely a unique kind of hell on earth.
“We do have each other.” Gwen picked up her cards.
“Thank God.” Effie blew a frustrated breath then mustered a reluctant smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“There is much to be said for family.” Poppy nodded and played a card.
Effie and Gwen were indeed her family. While they were originally connected only by circumstance, they were now bound together as tightly as if by blood. They had met some twenty years ago at a meeting of the Ladies Committee of the Explorers Club and had found they had absolutely nothing in common save the lack of a husband within sight. Still—and not one of them today could say exactly how it had happened—from mere acquaintances they had become friends and now were as close as sisters. None of them had much in the way of family and none had been blessed with children. At this point, in their mid to late fifties, they had shared much of their lives together through good times and bad, tears and laughter. They counted on each other for companionship and comfort and support. And would until they day they breathed their last.
“Let me ask you this, Effie.” Gwen set her cards on the table and folded her hands on top of them. “When you met William, all those years ago, and someone older and wiser had warned against marrying him as you would probably spend much of your life with him off somewhere in the service of Her Majesty, would you have listened?”
Effie stared at her cards. “William has always looked exceptionally dashing in his uniform.”
“Excellent answer,” Poppy murmured.
Gwen ignored her. “Would you have given up the handsome officer on the advice of another wife of a military man?”
Effie frowned. “I don’t think that question is at all fair. I fell in love with William very nearly the first moment we met.” She paused. “I did, however, give due consideration to his life and the future we might have together.”
“And you married him anyway,” Gwen said pointedly.
“How could I do otherwise?” Effie shrugged. “The man laid claim to my heart.”
“And even now, after all these years spent more alone than with him, you would marry him again. As I would marry Charles, and Poppy would marry Malcolm.”
“Yes, I suppose I would.” Effie heaved a resigned sigh. “Blast it all, of course I would.”
“My point exactly,” Poppy said firmly. “Dulcie and Mr. Shepard were meant for each other. We just need to make them see what is so obvious to anyone who looks at them.”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean we?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Poppy chose her words with care. “But I thought the three of us together might come up with something. We can be quite clever when we join forces.”
Effie groaned.
“Your claim that they belong together is based on nothing more than an odd lack of conversation, the fact that they occasionally gaze at each other, something in the air and your own assessment of the situation,” Gwen said in that mildly patronizing way she employed when she thought Poppy’s ideas absurd. “I really don’t think—”
“See for yourself.” Poppy’s gaze shifted from one friend to the other. “Come to the library tomorrow. If you don’t see what I see, then I shall drop this matter altogether.”
“Will Mrs. Lithgow be there?” Effie asked.
Mrs. Lithgow was the head of the Ladies Committee, on her third husband, superior, sanctimonious and one of those people who thinks she knows everything. While she was not universally loved, she did manage to accomplish quite a lot that no one else wanted to do, so she was tolerated. In moderation.
Poppy grimaced. “I do hope not.”
“And if we see what you see?” Caution sounded in Effie’s voice.
“When you see what I see—” Poppy beamed “—you will help me come up with a brilliant way to make the two of them accept their, well, fate.”
Effie and Gwen traded glances.
“Oh, that does sound like fun,” Effie said drily. “Not to mention a great deal of effort.”
“Goodness, Effie, you know as well as I—” Poppy played her card and collected the trick “—love is always worth the effort.”
“DO TELL US more about your plans, Mr. Drummond,” Mother said, gazing at Preston as if he was the answer to her prayers. Which no doubt he was. “I’m certain we would all find them most fascinating.”
In truth, no one at the table except Mother seemed to find anything Preston said even remotely fascinating, even if her three older daughters—Cora, Rose and Livy—had adopted rapt expressions of interest. Although it did seem there was a fine line between rapt and glazed. Good. Dulcie would need all the support she could gather once she told Preston, and then Mother, she would prefer he not call on her again.
“Are you certain, Lady Middleworth?” Preston said in a mildly flirtatious, teasing manner. The sort of manner one might employ if trying to convince a woman you were the right man for her daughter. “I should hate to be a bore.”
Judging by the impassive expression Father usually adopted when he was bored and the total concentration on the food in front of them by her three brothers-in-law, that possibility was no longer in question.
“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Drummond.” Mother waved off his objection. “I can’t imagine anything more interesting than your plans for the future.” Mother shot a pointed look at Dulcie. “Don’t you agree, dear?”
Any number of answers flashed through Dulcie’s head, none of which even remotely approximated what her mother expected to hear. Nonetheless, Dulcie affixed her brightest smile. “I do indeed, Mother.”
Still, there must have been something in her tone. Mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, Father choked and Rose’s husband coughed, although it sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh, earning him a stern look from his wife.
“As you wish then.” Preston smiled at her in a satisfied and rather possessive manner, as if he were already her husband. Regardless of what Mother or her sisters thought, even if it meant Dulcie would never wed, she had to put an end to this.
Dinner did seem to drag on endlessly but at last came to a merciful close. The ladies stood to take their leave and allow the gentlemen to their brandy.
“Dulcie.” Preston cleared his throat. “Might I have a word with you? Privately?”
Mother beamed. Father looked resigned.
His intentions were obvious. Damnation. Dulcie thought she had forestalled a proposal tonight by deflecting any hint of the subject during their ride home. Preston must have spoken to Father while she was changing for dinner. Well, it couldn’t be helped and it was probably for the best simply to get it over with.
“Of course, Preston.” She cast him a brilliant smile. “Shall we adjourn to the parlor?”
“Excellent.” He smiled with complete and utter confidence. One might almost feel sorry for him.
A few minutes later, Dulcie perched on the edge of the sofa in the main parlor, hands folded demurely in her lap, a pleasant smile on her lips although she suspected this was going to be anything but pleasant. Preston stood by the mantel, the very picture of unquestioned self-assurance. One would think a man about to propose marriage would be at least a little