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May 19 - June 5, 2025
“Emotional distress,” Lord Ashmond sneers. “Women are in emotional distress at the drop of a hat, literally. Didn’t you weep the other day, dearest, when your hat fell in the mud?” Lady Ashmond nods placidly, her eyes distant and a bit empty. Beth wonders if her mother isn’t the only one to have dipped into the laudanum.
“Preposterous. How a man behaves with his wife is no business of the courts’.” “Unless he’s beating her,” Beth feels herself say, clamping her lips shut as the whole table turns to look at her.
be. He really might think it’s the right of the husband to beat a wife bloody if he wants. Barbaric.
“And that she never needs to worry about such things from me.” “Yes, yes,” Lord Ashmond says, apparently mollified by his son’s promise not to beat Beth senseless.
“Beth knows her place,” Lady Ashmond repeats. “And understands what it means to be in this family. Dirty laundry should never be aired, publicly or privately. Marriage is a sacred bond.” The whole table turns to look at Lady Ashmond. That implies—
“Lady Demeroven?” Lord Ashmond prompts. “I know your late husband agreed. Stand-up man, he was.” And that, somehow, seems to be the last straw.
“My husband was a lout who spouted the same abhorrent drivel and used to backhand me for every slight. If I could have taken him to court and gotten half of his estate, I would have, and I would tell Beth to do the same should your son ever, ever,” Mother says, turning a hard look on Lord Montson, “raise a hand to her. And I would support her use of the new law immediately.”
“Think very carefully about your next words,” Lord Ashmond says, his voice deathly even and low. “Or what?” Mother asks, leaning back in her chair.
She won’t be beaten. She won’t be yelled at. She will not repeat what her mother endured.
“No, she won’t,” Mother says, and Beth feels her heart plummet. But then Mother stands up. “If those are your conditions, Lord Ashmond, that my daughter submit to anything your son wants, without question, be it verbal or physical, or simply his abhorrent taste in unseasoned food, then we will have a problem.”
“Be very careful, Lady Demeroven.” “Or what, you’ll hit me?”
“Lady Ashmond, if you ever need help,” she adds. Lord Ashmond takes a menacing step around the table toward Mother and Lord Montson bodily blocks him.
“What was that?” Beth asks, turning to Mother, who’s flushed and a bit disheveled, but standing taller than she’s seen her in months.
“I—I don’t know,” Mother admits, meeting Beth’s eyes. “God, I just—that man—” “Is abhorrent,” Beth agrees. “Yes,” Mother says, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Beth’s face. “Yes, you’re right. You’ve been right for a long time, and I thought—I thought I could do this, live this way again, but I can’t. You were right, Beth,” she repeats.
“Where are we going?” “To get you your happy ending,” Beth says firmly, laughing as Mother splutters.
“Lord Havenfort is all of those things, but for you. You spent my whole life with a lout—you said so yourself. Now you should spend the rest of yours with a gentleman.”
“Beth, you’re not—I can’t—he won’t take me,” Mother says, her voice suddenly rough.
“He loves you. He’s been a wreck since we parted ways, drinking and throwing himself into politics. But he loves you. He has for years.” “I’ve broken his heart too many times,” Mother says. “I can’t—why would he take me now?” “Because you’re ready now. And because you’re you,” Beth insists. “I’m not—” “What—beautiful, learned, witty, fun, and a match for absolutely anyone? Lord Havenfort may have cracked him one, but Lord Ashmond looked destroyed tonight and you didn’t lift a finger, barely even a brow!”
Beth can’t remember the last time her mother looked at her like this—vulnerable and still so young, and open, and seeking Beth’s approval. Her opinion matters now. Has always mattered.
Father’s now the one shaking, staring down at this woman who has broken his heart, and given him joy, and stayed with him in memory all these years.
“I realize this is . . . abrupt, and forward, and possibly futile. But I, ah, I wanted to apologize, for the hurt I’ve caused. To ask your forgiveness, if you can give it. And to offer—”
“Well, to offer myself,”
I mean, I am here to ask you to trust me once more, with the promise that I will never break your trust again, or your heart.”
“Cordelia—” Father starts, but Lady Demeroven shakes her head. “Will you marry me?” she asks, looking up at him, her face broken open, young and shy and hopeful.
“An arrangement for their sake could be made, but do not ask me thus if it isn’t for yourself.”
“We’re staying?” Beth asks. Lady Demeroven takes Father’s hand. “I hardly think one more scandal can hurt us, do you?”
After all, they woke up tangled naked together this morning and have nothing more than debauchery planned for the opening ball. It’s frankly glorious.
But here they all are, happy, healthy, and with a joyful addition to the family firmly on the way.
And it isn’t like they didn’t cover for him and Meredith over the winter when the two of them could barely keep their hands off each other, newly wedded and utterly disgusting.
She’s been divorced three months and has apparently made the absolute most of it.
She proved adultery, abuse, and neglect all at once, using a lawyer Gwen is almost positive Father arranged for her to meet.
She meant to just check in on him, but finds him staring at Beth and Bobby, almost transfixed. A strange protectiveness rises in her gut. He can’t be looking at Beth that way. They’re cousins. More importantly, Beth is hers.
Bobby’s still flushed from dancing, pink cheeked, with his broad chest heaving a little. And James—James looks gobsmacked, hot under the collar, and— Oh.
She has no interest whatsoever in marrying a man who would simply tolerate her “friendship” with Beth. But marrying a man who has a “friendship” of his own? That has promise.
If they could pair James and Bobby off—Bobby who never seems interested in women, who’s never wanted to marry—then Beth could have Bobby and Gwen could have James and they could— “Gwen?”
“No. No. We almost killed our parents. I am not embarking on another matchmaking scheme. Especially since we can’t marry off their parents to make sure they can be together.”
But this would give them true security, no matter what gender the baby is. Real autonomy.
“It would be in name only. They’d live in one, we’d live in the other, and make appearances when necessary. The perfect disguise.”
trying to convince two young men, who we’re not actually positive have that inclination, into a farce marriage so we can live up in the country?” Beth confirms. “Basically. It worked the first time.” Beth bobs her head. “We have the season.”
