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324 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published June 25, 2013
He eyed her sideways, one brow arching as he lifted his cup. “I hadn’t noticed you to have much use for modesty of any kind.”
So he was in that sort of mood, was he? Good. She could keep up with all the plaguing he cared to throw her way. “Ah, I take your meaning.” She shaped all her features into an exaggerated show of comprehension. “You think me vain of my looks.”
“No, Miss Westbrook. Think suggests an element of doubt. And that particular doubt, in my acquaintance with you, was long since done away with...”
“... I must say, you gentlemen are very vexing in your expectations of us.” A small toss of her head would not go amiss here, so she added it. “A man wants a lady to be beautiful, but to drift about in ignorance of the fact until the day he can come along and enlighten her. And all the while, a well-looking lady is subjected to such incessant attentions and courtesies from the lot of you as can leave her in no doubt of her appeal... The trying part is the inconsistency, the inherent contradiction in what gentlemen would like us to be. There’s simply no such thing as a beautiful woman who’s unaware of her beauty, unless she’s monumentally oblivious. More likely she’s feigning her ignorance in order to snare a credulous man in a web woven out of his own illogical expectations.”
... if she were ever to write a novel, it would be the opposite of a love story. Her hero and heroine would choose duty over their hearts’ desire, that their children need never be taxed for a romantic indulgence that was none of their own...
Yes, the very opposite of a romance would be the story to warm her heart. Something full of prudent choices and practical considerations. Something where people consulted their heads and kept a tight rein on their sentiments...
Men thought her unfeeling, she knew. Heartless, Mr. Blackshear had pronounced her, the last time he’d come to call. Of course he’d laughed as he’d said it, good-natured and brotherly, though they both knew he had reason to mean it.
Well, be that as it would. She carried enough already, what with worrying for her younger sisters’ welfare, scheming to make connections that could better all their prospects, and striving to somehow mend the great rift in Papa’s family. She had neither time nor energy enough to feel guilty for every young man she’d disappointed. They’d surely all go on to find girls who could afford the luxury of marrying for love, and they’d be happier than they ever could have been with her.
Beauty faded, after all, and with it, the love it had inspired.