Bella and Elliott exchanged a glance. It wasn’t that Prissa knew how to deal with Grandfather and they didn’t. No. Prissa just had the ability to get along with anyone and always had. Her sweetness nearly exuded from her, almost like an angel. Even Grandfather liked her.
“Why is Hellsburg coming to Town?” Elliott asked, ignoring Prissa’s comment as there was nothing to say to it.
Bella shook her head. “I’m not sure why he’s coming to Town, but…” The next set of words lodged in her throat. Goodness, if she said them aloud they’d be real.
“But?” Elliott prompted.
Bella glanced over at Prissa, who had turned around once more and was staring at her quite pointedly. She didn’t want to admit this awfulness in front of their little sister. Doing so seemed the most degrading thing she could do.
“But…?” Prissa echoed, stepping closer to her siblings. Her innocent silvery eyes filled with concern as she reached a comforting hand to Bella. “What’s wrong? You don’t look well.”
She didn’t feel well, not in the least. Bella would have turned away from her sister if Prissa hadn’t held onto her arm with a strength that didn’t seem remotely like the girl.
“Bella?” Elliott prompted.
She did need allies. She could tell them, couldn’t she? Well, perhaps not all of it. No one needed to know the awful things Grandfather had said about her in his study. But if she couldn’t find a way out of her predicament, she’d find herself married to Johann von Guttstadt and there wouldn’t be any point in trying to hide that fact from her siblings. “Grandfather means to secure a match between us,” she said, barely recognizing her own voice as the awfulness of the words circled about her heart.
Elliott’s mouth dropped open, and Prissa’s hand fluttered to her lips in surprise.
“He’s going to marry you off to that vulgar boor?” Elliott snapped.
“You don’t want to marry him, do you?” Prissa asked, the breathless quality of her voice shaking just a bit.
Bella shook her head. “Papa said if I haven’t found a husband in the next fortnight, he’d sign the marriage contract. So…”
“So you need a husband,” Prissa said, grabbing on to the one bit of hope there was to be had in the situation. Then she turned her full attention on Elliott. “You don’t have any friends who…”
Their brother scoffed. “You don’t seriously think the old cur would agree to let her marry one of my friends, do you?”
Prissa’s head dropped, right along with Bella’s spirits.
“I didn’t take last season. A fortnight…” wasn’t enough to time to find some fellow and bring him up to scratch. She couldn’t bring herself to mutter that last bit.
“A fortnight is nothing,” Elliott said, warmth exuding from his tone, which was unlike him. Bella must look more than distraught. “Miss Lucinda Potts ran off to Gretna Green with Brookfield not long ago. She’d only known the blackguard a few days.”
“I don’t think Papa would agree to let her marry some blackguard, do you?”
Before Elliott could answer, Bella shook her head. “I don’t want to marry some blackguard. I just want…”
“What do you want?” Prissa asked softly.
That was the question she’d spent the last few years pondering, wasn’t it? Bella had always hoped to see a bit of the world. There was so much to see, so much to experience, and now that the war was quite over, she’d hoped to tour a bit of the continent. Not like Mama had done, of course. She didn’t want to abandon her family all in the name of art; but she dreamed of experiencing the energy of Paris, walking in the same steps where the Renaissance masters had walked in Florence, and touring the ancient structures of the Ottoman Empire. Finding a husband had just never been something she’d cared overly much about. Though, she was certainly in a predicament now because she hadn’t, wasn’t she?
A husband, a husband. What would she possibly want in a husband? Honestly, she had no idea. Someone kind, like Papa; but with a bit more fortitude, she supposed. Someone who saw the world as she did. Someone who loved art and saw the beauty in all things. And that man was not Johann von Guttstadt. Beggars could not be choosers, however. And her time was very limited. “Just an honorable man,” she finally said. “One who’ll treat me well, and if he has any love for art, all the better.”
“Your friend,” Elliott began.
“Which friend?”
“The St. Claire chit.”
Lissy hadn’t been the St. Claire chit in quite some time. “You mean Lady Felicity Pierce?”
Her brother nodded. “She’s always surrounded by a throng of men. Maybe she’ll give you one of hers.”
Prissa gasped. “I can’t imagine it works that way, Elliott.”
Bella didn’t imagine it did either. But Lissy was a good idea, nonetheless. She was a trustworthy friend and beyond loyal. Perhaps she knew of a fellow who needed a wife as badly as Bella did a husband. “I’ll send her a note.”