“I know, my dear. Of course he doesn’t love her, but I didn’t love your brother either when I married him. And Aurelia and Townsend despised each other before they wed. Now they’re deeply in love.”
“You’re not making me feel better.”
“I’m sorry. But if it’s August you’re worried for, I think he’ll be all right.” Josephine twisted one of her wavy auburn locks. “I’m more worried about you. Perhaps it’s time to move on.”
“Move on to what?” Minette cried. “I have always loved August, as long as I can remember. I adore him with all my soul.”
Josephine took the handkerchief from her and wiped at her tears. “With all your soul? Minette, you’re so young. You’ve plenty of time to find another love, one who is within your reach. August was never meant for you. He thinks of you as a child. As Warren’s sister.”
“I know, I know. Everyone believes I’m ridiculous, even August, but I can’t help how I feel.” Minette doubled over, scrunching her hot eyes shut. They would be so swollen and red, she wouldn’t be able to show her face. This was so much harder than she’d imagined. She had thought she could be strong and accept Lord August’s engagement when it inevitably came. But she was finding it impossible to be strong. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t think. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I can’t keep up this act anymore. I dream about him and Lady Priscilla. I woke up in Mrs. Everly’s room this morning, curled into a ball.”
“Mrs. Everly’s room?” Josephine blinked at her in concern. “How did you get there? Have you been walking from your bed again?”
“I can’t help it. It just happens. Oh, don’t tell Warren.” Minette clasped her hands together in a gesture of entreaty. “Please, Josephine. He worried so, before.”
“And he shall worry now, but your brother would want to know.”
“Please don’t tell him, Josie. Not yet. It’s only the idea of August marrying. It’s got me in such a state.”
“Dear love.” Josephine hugged her close with sisterly concern. “You mustn’t be so troubled. You must try to move on. There’s some dashing young gentleman out there waiting to sweep you off your feet. I promise, Minette. Your perfect husband is out there. You’ll look back at this time and wonder what you ever saw in August.”
Minette wished it was so, but she’d never pictured herself with any other man. She’d tried. She’d opened her heart to this one or that, but something was always missing, some connection she felt whenever Lord August was near. It wasn’t only his strong, powerful physique or his ebony dark hair. There was something in the depths of his eyes. They were an odd color, somewhat hazel, somewhat brown, and so brooding and mysterious. He was gruff, yet kind. Careless, yet intelligent. Sometimes he greatly surprised her. For instance, she’d never realized he could sing so beautifully. As much as she studied him at every opportunity, there was so much she didn’t know, that she felt she must know if she was to be fulfilled in life.
She had always believed Lord August was meant for her, before she even knew about courtship and love, and marriage. How could this be happening? How could he marry someone else?
With a soft knock, her brother entered and shut the door behind him. They shared an abiding affection, in addition to matching light-blond curls and blue eyes. “Minette, darling, are you all right?”
The concern in his voice brought another flood of tears. She would make herself sick if she didn’t stop. She had never been the weeping type, but this was an utter disaster.
“Don’t cry,” he said. He crossed to sit on the other side of her, and gave her shoulders a squeeze. “No one cares that Lady Priscilla can play better than you. She made herself look a right idiot choosing that wretched baroque music to play at a Hallowe’en fete.”
“It’s not that,” Minette bawled. “I’m not crying about that.”
She glanced up long enough to see her brother and Josephine exchange a look. Yes, silly Minette, and her childish infatuation with August. None of them understood the chaos in her heart. She wasn’t a child anymore, and what she felt wasn’t only infatuation.
“My dear,” he said gently. “We’ve talked about this so many times.”
“It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve talked about it. It doesn’t change my feelings. It doesn’t change my love for him.”
Warren took her chin and made her look up. “I don’t want August for you,” he said. “Those are my feelings. I know him better than you do. You wouldn’t make a good match. What of Lord Robert? He’s a steady chap with excellent prospects. He’s fun and cheerful, like you.”
“He’s a ginger,” Minette sobbed.
“So?”
“We’ll have carrot-topped children, and nothing looks good with that color. What on earth will my daughters wear to their coming out?”
Warren blinked at her. “I don’t…know.”
“Not only that, but when I talk to Lord Robert, there’s nothing to say. When I’m with him, he’s cheerful and fun, but he doesn’t make me love him.”
“And August does?”
“Yes! I’ve loved him for years, and I’ve always wanted to be his wife. I feel connected to him somehow. I can’t explain it.”
Her brother frowned. “I don’t think it can be explained. And I don’t think there’s anything to be done for it. Lord Colton’s growing impatient, and August’s father is in ill health. So you see, August’s under pressure both ways. Three ways, if you count Lady Prissy upstairs banging away on the pianoforte. Listen, mopsy.” He squeezed her hand and held it between his palms. “I love you very much. I want you to be happy. Even if August was head over heels for you, I wouldn’t let a match proceed. It wouldn’t suit either of you. You’d realize it soon enough.”
Minette loved her brother, but sometimes she hated him too, like when he was being a know-it-all, overprotective tyrant without any heart.
“You don’t understand,” she said, pulling her hand away. “You don’t feel my pain.”
“Warren,” said Josephine. “Perhaps we ought to think about leaving early. Very soon,” she added, raising a brow. “If it can be arranged.”
He sighed. “I suppose the Townsends would understand, but I think it awfully cowardly of you, sis. The party doesn’t end for another week.”
One more week. By the end of that week, August was sure to be engaged to Lady Priscilla. It was so unfair.
“Please, we must leave,” she said, worrying her handkerchief between her fingers. “I’ll pretend to be ill. Or you can say you have business to attend to in town.”
Warren shook his head. “I’ll tell Hunter and Aurelia the truth. They’d know anyway. But we must keep the rest of the guests from finding out the reason, for propriety’s sake.”
“For propriety’s sake?” Josephine rolled her eyes. She tended to scoff at propriety when it suited her. “You speak of propriety when your sister’s heart is breaking?”
“Yes, I do,” Warren said. “I won’t have drama and gossip overshadowing August’s proposal to Lady Priscilla. It’s going to be difficult enough for him as it is. As for you, my dear...” He looked back at Minette, concern clouding his blue eyes. “My heart breaks for you, too, but you must come to terms with this situation. You must look elsewhere for love. When we return to London for the season, after the baby’s born, we’ll search until we find a young man worthy of your affections. We’ll go on calls and plan dinners. We’ll have a ball at Park Street, a lively, grand affair.”
Josephine looked heavenward in exasperation. Minette wrung her hands.
“You can throw a thousand balls but it won’t make me stop loving Lord August,” she said to her brother.