“I mean a true smile,” he said, letting his brogue thicken. “If you think I cannae see the difference then you misjudge me.”
She looked at him, and he watched as her expression shifted from defiant to tired. She was the fiercest woman he knew, but at the moment, she appeared to have aged a decade, and the sight horrified him.
“Mairi—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Connall, I do not like these men,” she said in a harsh whisper. “The countess says they’re the best that I can hope for with no dowry, but they’re old or smelly or dumb.”
“Then don’t marry them,” he said. “You have a home in Scotland, a father who cares for you, work with glass if not at the castle. You don’t have to—”
“But I want to!” she hissed. “I want to marry and have children. I wasn’t sure at first, but—”
“You’ve been listening to the countess.” The woman practically worshiped the married state. She spoke gloriously of having children and pitied the poor unwed as if they were deficient somehow.
“Not the countess,” she said. “Her daughters.”
Ah. Each of the lady’s children had found a mate that seemed to suit them. Though Amber and Sophie were increasing, they had still managed to visit this past week. And they all knew how blissfully happy Lilah was. She’d gotten married in Scotland. The only one yet to appear was Lady Gwen, but the tales of her “daffodil courtship” as it was now called, were a frequent topic of conversation. He had to admit that speaking with their husbands had left him with a deepening longing for the right wife. Like them, he wanted a woman who understood him. One he could share his life with. He had yet to imagine himself with any of the women he’d met so far.
“The Season has barely begun,” he said. “There may yet be someone.” It surprised him how hard it was to say those words. He hated the idea of her with any man except for himself. But she had made her decision clear. And if it could not be him, then he wanted her happy. And that meant she needed to wait for a man who suited her.
“I got another bill from the dressmaker’s,” she said. “The countess brought it to me today.”
He nodded. He hadn’t missed her statement that she had no dowry. After all her claims of saving for her future, he was surprised at her lack now. But he didn’t ask her for fear of upsetting her pride.
“Do you have enough?” he asked.
“I do. But I… My dowry…” Her voice trailed away.
He took her hand and squeezed it as he set it on his arm. “Not every lady has money. Unlike them, you are brilliant, capable, and would make any man proud to have as a wife.”
She nodded and he could see the effort it cost her to smile up at him. She was frightened about her future, and the difference between her now and the fiery woman he’d known all his life made him gnash his teeth. But what could he say? He had already offered himself and been refused.
Still, he wanted to try. He gripped her hand and pulled her closer to him, but they were in public and several young ladies thought he had been private with Mairi for too long. They hovered nearby and did their best to catch his attention. And while he was still searching for the right words for Mairi, three sisters with identical horse-like laughs surrounded them and demanded he give his opinion on their new dresses. He responded with a compliment, as usual. It was what they expected and the quickest way to dismiss them. But by the time he had finished with the sisters, Mairi had joined Sadie and Iseabail as they chatted with several young bucks.
To anyone else, the group appeared at ease, delighted by witty conversation on a brilliant autumn afternoon. To him, though, he saw Mairi’s too bright smile and the way she seemed to hang on gentlemen’s words even as she held herself apart from them.
She wanted to want them, but her body betrayed her. She had no more interest in the three handsome men than she did cleaning a stag brought in for a feast. She knew how to do it but took no pleasure in the process. And for that, his heart ached. The search for a husband should not be so painful. But what could he do to help her?
He had no answer during their promenade in Hyde Park. He was at a complete loss during the early musicale evening. It wasn’t until the ball that night that he felt inspiration strike. Over the years he’d seen Mairi in several states. He’d seen her flushed with sweat as she worked glass, furious as she disciplined a lazy servant or harassed a drunk to bed, and once he’d seen her stumbling drunk during a festival when she was fifteen. In all of that, her body had moved with fluid grace.
Except now. She was dancing like a broken marionette, all stiff-armed and jerky. Her smile looked like it was painted on, her arms were alternately too rigid or too loose, and her feet never seemed to coincide with her balance. He thought at first that she was drunk, so uncoordinated were her movements. But when she turned and he looked at her face, he realized that she was on the verge of tears. Indeed, she was holding them back by sheer force of will.
What the hell had happened?
The sight of her was so shocking to him that he nearly broke through the dancers to grab her away. Instead, he held on to his temper and his worry and waited. Thankfully, the set ended quickly and there did not appear to be any man waiting for her hand in the next set.
He met her the moment she stepped off the dance floor, bowed over her hand, and pulled her away. She didn’t even bother to bid her dance partner farewell, and that made him want to punch the bastard in the face.
“What did he do to you?” he asked, the words sounding very much like a growl.
“What? Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said as he pulled her into a dark alcove. It wasn’t exactly private. They could be easily overheard, but it would do for the moment. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m fine,” she said, her tone weary.
“What did he say to you? Did he do something?”
“What? No!” She crossed her arms defensively. “He was perfectly fine. Boring, pads his clothing badly, but nothing unusual.”