The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,13
be able to take his eyes off of you.”
“But the orphans–”
“Would be better served if you found a wealthy husband and donated to them regularly instead of just once. Besides, you don’t even know if you can give the money away. Have you talked to your uncle’s solicitor?”
“Well, no,” Calliope admitted as they resumed walking. “But I don’t see why there would be an issue. It’s my inheritance to do with what I want, at least until my birthday.”
“One gown,” Helena wheedled. “One gown, one ball, one chance to sweep the earl off his feet. If it doesn’t work, then you can give the rest of your money to the mice living in the pantry for all I care. They need beds too, you know.”
Calliope frowned. “Shouldn’t I be the one being swept off my feet?”
Granted, she hadn’t experienced very much romance firsthand (or any at all, really), but whenever she’d imagined meeting her prince charming he had been the one holding a bouquet of flowers and murmuring sweet nothings, not her. Helena had said the earl was a recluse, but Calliope needed someone who was at least amendable to the idea of marriage. Which, if her friend’s guilty expression was any indication, Leopold Maven definitely wasn’t.
“Leo isn’t exactly the sweeping sort,” Helena admitted. “At least, not since his first wife died.”
“She died?” Now it was Calliope’s turn to look aghast. “Helena, I cannot pursue a widower. Especially one who doesn’t want to be pursued. That poor man.”
“That poor man is my friend. At least, he used to be. And he’s wallowed in misery quite enough, if you ask me.” Helena tossed back her head. “What happened to Lady Winchester was tragic. I won’t pretend to know what Leo has gone through. But I do know this isn’t the life Heather would have wanted for him if she were still alive.”
“Then why don’t you marry him?” Calliope asked.
“I already told you, we’d never suit. It would be like marrying my own brother.” She made a face. “No, no, the solution to both of your problems is crystal clear. Leo desperately needs a wife, whether he is ready to admit it or not. Someone to care for him. To love him. To give him a reason to look towards the future. And you need a husband. One who will treat you like a queen. Which Leo is more than capable of doing, after a few…behavioral modifications.”
“Behavioral modifications? Helena, I really don’t think–”
“Oh look!” Her friend said cheerfully. “I see the dress shop. Step lively, darling. There’s lots of traffic out today.” Without waiting she dashed out of the park and across the busy street, leaving Calliope no choice but to follow after.
“You – you’re going to a ball, my lord?” asked Robert blankly.
“Trust me,” Leo growled as he stalked across his bedchamber and yanked open the door of his closet. “I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea. But I owe an old friend a favor, and I always pay my debts. Now is there anything in here I can wear or not?”
Folding his arms, he stepped back from the row of elegant tailcoats and satin waistcoats and double-stitched cravats, then shook his head in frustration. He hadn’t looked inside this closet for years, and if not for the meticulous nature of his staff he’d no doubt the clothes would have been covered in a layer of dust. With no social functions to attend and no company to entertain, he’d gotten accustomed to a minimalistic wardrobe that consisted of breeches, comfortable linen shirts, and the occasional jacket. It was a hardly the attire of an earl, but then Leo hadn’t been a earl.
Not since Heather and Henry died.
Seven years, and his gut still clenched when he thought of their names. He mourned them like a prisoner locked away in a dark cell mourned the sun. And he missed them. He missed the sound of Heather’s sweet laughter. He missed the sight of Henry’s gummy smile. If only he’d known how quickly they would both be taken from him, he would have drunk in those sounds and sights until his ears and his eyes ached. Yet it still wouldn’t have been enough. Two years with the love of his life hadn’t been enough. Four wonderful months with his son hadn’t been enough.
It would never be enough.
As the pain he’d spent years pushing beneath the surface threatened to rise, Leo shoved past Robert and yanked out the first piece of clothing his hand encountered.