"Then I believe you have something to ask my daughter," she says, gesturing to me.
Lord Cygnus turns to me with a serious expression on his face. "Miss Swanley," he starts, and I realise how much I hate hearing him addressing me now. "Would you do me the honour of being my wife?"
I want to tell him that I don't need him to ask methis, but I know it isn't true. There is only one answer I can give. "The honour would be mine, My Lord."
"Then it is done," Mother says. "We will finalise the details on the morrow. Letitia, come with me."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I don't dare imagine what she's going to say to me.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to Lord Cygnus, leaving before he can respond.
Five
Letitia
"Stand up straighter,"Mother instructs. "You chose a good gown, it will show you off to your best advantage. Though I suppose there isn't much use for that any longer."
"Nothing happened, Mother."
She tuts. "It is of no matter what happened or didn't, only what is perceived to have happened. And while I might have preferred it if you had secured a proposal in a more traditional way, I can not fault your results. You're going to be a countess one day."
Is that all that matters to her? I hold my tongueand don't ask the question out loud. There is very little point when it will change nothing. She is correct, I am going to be a countess one day, and that would be seen by most of society as an excellent match.
"And he's a swan shifter too," Mother continues. "That is also excellent."
"Does that really matter?"
"No, I suppose it does not, but it does make the match better in many people's eyes," she responds.
The door in front of us opens and we're ushered through into a comfortable-looking drawing room.
My gaze instantly lands on Lord Cygnus who appears to be almost as uncomfortable as I am, though his face softens when his gaze catches on me and he offers me a brief smile.
"Lord Cygnus," Mother says. "Lady Swancove."
I turn my attention to Lady Swancove and dip into a curtsy. The countess studies me intently and gets to her feet.
"So this is the girl my son is going to marry?" she says, looking me up and down. "What is your name?"
"Letitia Swanley, My Lady," I respond.
"Good family. Excellent posture. Not a poor choice, even if the circumstances leave something tobe desired." She shoots her son a disapproving look as she says it.
Guilt flashes across his face.
The doors open before we can continue the conversation, and the Earl walks in along with my father.
The three of us dip into curtsies straight away.
"Lady Swanley, Miss Swanley, it is a pleasure to meet you," the Earl of Swancove says.
"My Lord," I say.
"We have arranged for the marriage licence to be procured, and you can be married shortly after," the Earl says.
"Is that soon enough?" Lady Swancove asks. "The ton are likely to talk about the circumstances surrounding the engagement."
"I believe there were enough witnesses that it shouldn't be a problem so long as our children are wed," Mother says.