had a fine but not exorbitant dowry. But perhaps any amount of money would be useful enough here for her to make a match with one of the Montagues? If there were any unmatched males left, that was. Perhaps the girl’s dreams of true love would have to be replaced by ducal strawberry leaves if that was the case.
She could hear the buzz of voices and laughter before Lumsden even opened the drawing room door. They stepped into a vast chamber with soaring ceilings decorated with elaborate white plasterwork and walls papered in blue silk and hung with landscapes and portraits. A fire burned in the white marble grate, and gilded blue damask sofas and chairs were scattered in groupings around the room, interspersed with tables laden with figurines and enamelled boxes and vases. A pianoforte and a harp sat in the corner.
But the elegance of the room was overshadowed by the people who gathered around the space. They were all laughing and talking exuberantly, the gloomy silence of the house banished.
Lydia gave Catalina a look that seemed distinctly frightened. Catalina smiled and gave her arm a little squeeze, but she had to admit she herself felt a little nervous faced with so many Montagues.
A lady broke away from the crowd and came towards them, her green silk gown shimmering.
‘You must be Miss Westman,’ the lady said with a kind smile. ‘I have been looking forward to meeting you. I am Lily Seagrove.’
The bride. Catalina studied her with interest, this lady who was marrying into the family she herself had once so briefly dreamed of joining. She seemed kind and welcoming, her eyes warm as she smiled.
‘How do you do,’ Lydia said, and gave her a small curtsey with a poise that made Catalina proud. ‘I am happy to meet you as well. This is my companion, Mrs Moreno.’
‘Of course,’ Lily said, turning her friendly smile to Catalina. ‘We have heard so much about you. My brother-in-law Lord Harry and his wife, Elena, have talked of nothing but how they look forward to meeting you. They have recently returned from Spain themselves for the wedding, though soon they will be off to their new posting. He is in the diplomatic service.’
‘I look forward to meeting them then,’ Catalina said politely, though in truth she wasn’t sure if talking about Spain would make her more or less homesick, more or less full of memories. She didn’t want to remember old hopes for her country and how they had been shattered in reality.
‘Then you must meet them now!’ Lily declared. ‘Come, let me introduce you both to everyone.’
Lily led them around the room and made the introductions to the people gathered there. There were so many of them that Catalina was quite sure she would never remember them all. There was the bridegroom, Lord Giles, a tall, handsome man with the same grey eyes most of the Montagues seemed to possess. His smile was so tender, so full of happiness, when he looked at his bride that it made Catalina’s heart ache to see it. They just seemed to belong together, to fit in a way so few couples did.
There was Lady Phaedra, Jamie’s sister, who Catalina remembered from the portrait Jamie carried, and her husband, Bram Basingstoke, who held her hand while she talked. Phaedra asked Catalina if she rode, and, on hearing that she had used to enjoy it very much but hadn’t had the chance in years, told her that she must come and inspect the facilities that were being built for Phaedra’s new stud at Castonbury.
‘I would enjoy that very much,’ Catalina said, and indeed she would. She missed riding, and Lady Phaedra’s great enthusiasm was infectious. She added quietly enough that Lydia could not hear, ‘But I fear Miss Westman has not had many chances to ride and isn’t sure how, though she is very curious about horses. She has lived all her life in London.’
‘Hasn’t been able to ride much?’ Phaedra gasped, her eyes large with shock. ‘Good heavens. Well, she is in the country now. We must
She could hear the buzz of voices and laughter before Lumsden even opened the drawing room door. They stepped into a vast chamber with soaring ceilings decorated with elaborate white plasterwork and walls papered in blue silk and hung with landscapes and portraits. A fire burned in the white marble grate, and gilded blue damask sofas and chairs were scattered in groupings around the room, interspersed with tables laden with figurines and enamelled boxes and vases. A pianoforte and a harp sat in the corner.
But the elegance of the room was overshadowed by the people who gathered around the space. They were all laughing and talking exuberantly, the gloomy silence of the house banished.
Lydia gave Catalina a look that seemed distinctly frightened. Catalina smiled and gave her arm a little squeeze, but she had to admit she herself felt a little nervous faced with so many Montagues.
A lady broke away from the crowd and came towards them, her green silk gown shimmering.
‘You must be Miss Westman,’ the lady said with a kind smile. ‘I have been looking forward to meeting you. I am Lily Seagrove.’
The bride. Catalina studied her with interest, this lady who was marrying into the family she herself had once so briefly dreamed of joining. She seemed kind and welcoming, her eyes warm as she smiled.
‘How do you do,’ Lydia said, and gave her a small curtsey with a poise that made Catalina proud. ‘I am happy to meet you as well. This is my companion, Mrs Moreno.’
‘Of course,’ Lily said, turning her friendly smile to Catalina. ‘We have heard so much about you. My brother-in-law Lord Harry and his wife, Elena, have talked of nothing but how they look forward to meeting you. They have recently returned from Spain themselves for the wedding, though soon they will be off to their new posting. He is in the diplomatic service.’
‘I look forward to meeting them then,’ Catalina said politely, though in truth she wasn’t sure if talking about Spain would make her more or less homesick, more or less full of memories. She didn’t want to remember old hopes for her country and how they had been shattered in reality.
‘Then you must meet them now!’ Lily declared. ‘Come, let me introduce you both to everyone.’
Lily led them around the room and made the introductions to the people gathered there. There were so many of them that Catalina was quite sure she would never remember them all. There was the bridegroom, Lord Giles, a tall, handsome man with the same grey eyes most of the Montagues seemed to possess. His smile was so tender, so full of happiness, when he looked at his bride that it made Catalina’s heart ache to see it. They just seemed to belong together, to fit in a way so few couples did.
There was Lady Phaedra, Jamie’s sister, who Catalina remembered from the portrait Jamie carried, and her husband, Bram Basingstoke, who held her hand while she talked. Phaedra asked Catalina if she rode, and, on hearing that she had used to enjoy it very much but hadn’t had the chance in years, told her that she must come and inspect the facilities that were being built for Phaedra’s new stud at Castonbury.
‘I would enjoy that very much,’ Catalina said, and indeed she would. She missed riding, and Lady Phaedra’s great enthusiasm was infectious. She added quietly enough that Lydia could not hear, ‘But I fear Miss Westman has not had many chances to ride and isn’t sure how, though she is very curious about horses. She has lived all her life in London.’
‘Hasn’t been able to ride much?’ Phaedra gasped, her eyes large with shock. ‘Good heavens. Well, she is in the country now. We must
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