“I plan to discuss it with my future husband, which at the moment seems to be Lord Gregory. However, I don’t want to be presumptuous, so I must wait until he proposes.”
Cassandra regarded her with a bit of shock. “Are you really considering marrying him?”
“I must consider it.”
“Is that what you really want though?”
For some reason, Fiona thought of Overton. Probably because he’d made her position untenable. If he’d never brought her to London, she and Mrs. Tucket would be living the life they’d long enjoyed.
Enjoyed? Fiona had been bored in Shropshire, horribly so in hindsight.
“What I really want is independence,” she said softly before digging her spoon into the ice cream and taking a large, decadent mouthful.
Cassandra swallowed a bite of her ice cream and gave Fiona a wistful look. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Perhaps Lord Gregory will be the sort of husband who will allow you the freedoms you desire. And he may very well support Mrs. Tucket, especially if he loves you and sees how important she is to you. I think a marriage with love or at least mutual respect and care is the greatest freedom we can hope for.”
Love? Fiona hadn’t contemplated that at all. She was fairly certain her parents hadn’t loved each other. She wasn’t sure what that even looked like. She did know that she hadn’t loved anyone, not beyond her parents, and that was different.
“Why do you think that?” Fiona asked.
“Because marriage is the societal ideal. Without it, we will always be lacking in the ton’s eyes, whether we have the financial ability to live independently or not. I hope I can find a caring husband. It’s just easier than the alternatives,” Cassandra said, plunging her spoon into her dish. “My father insists I become betrothed by the end of May or he’s going to arrange a suitable marriage. I suspect that will diminish my chances for an amiable union.”
Prudence lifted a shoulder. “Occasionally, an arranged marriage works out well. King George and Queen Charlotte were quite happy before, well, before.”
Fiona knew what she meant—before the king had become ill and his son had been made Regent.
Cassandra waved her spoon. “While that may be true, his eldest son and his arranged wife quite despise each other.”
“There is only one solution,” Fiona declared. “We must pool our pin money and run away. Where shall we go?”
Cassandra giggled.
Prudence raised her hand. “If I also contribute funds, may I come along?”
“Of course!” Fiona and Cassandra answered in unison before they all dissolved into laughter.
“Sounds like you’re having quite a gay time.”
Fiona recovered herself and looked up at the woman who’d approached their table. Petite with pale skin and blonde hair, the woman fixed her blue eyes on Cassandra first. “Good afternoon, Lady Cassandra.”
“Lady Bentley.”
Fiona noted the tightness in Cassandra’s voice and surmised she didn’t care for the new arrival.
Cassandra offered Lady Bentley a weak smile. “Allow me to present my friend, Miss Fiona Wingate and her companion, Miss Lancaster.”
Fiona rose and curtsied, as did Prudence. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She tried to remember who Lady Bentley was. The name was familiar, probably from Debrett’s, but Fiona couldn’t place the title.
Lady Bentley turned her bright blue gaze on Fiona. “Miss Wingate, are you Lord Overton’s ward? It seems you are. I heard about your presentation to the queen.”
Of course she had.
“How charming of you to bring that up,” Cassandra said, her voice and features carrying a sharp edge.
“Yes, well, it was quite the story.” Lady Bentley laughed, a soft but wholly grating sound. At least to Fiona. “I did feel sorry for Overton. He’s had such a bad time of things since I chose Bentley over him.”
Fiona couldn’t think of what to say to that surprising revelation. Why on earth would this woman have chosen anyone besides Overton? He was witty, thoughtful, handsome, caring. “Has he? He seems in rather good spirits to me.” Fiona looked to her tablemates. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Most definitely.” Cassandra blinked in what appeared to be mock ignorance at Lady Bentley. “Did you actually choose Bentley, or was the choice made for you? I can’t imagine why you’d choose him over the earl.” Her eyes rounded briefly before she leaned toward Fiona and whispered, though not quietly enough that Lady Bentley couldn’t hear, “Bentley’s opinion of himself wasn’t quite so inflated then. Also, his father is a duke.” She pursed her lips.
Lady Bentley’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t attempt to kidnap me to Gretna Green, as Overton did. Overton would