Gail Eastwood by An Unlikely Hero

afternoon—there was one thing . . .” Oh, why was this so hard to do?
    “I know. You have every right to upbraid me. I owe you an apology for this afternoon. I was unspeakably rude.”
    “Oh, no. I mean, that isn’t it at all . . .” She set her book down and stood up. Perhaps she would do a better job if she walked around the way Venetia would have.
    “The thing is, of course, you do not know my sister very well. If you did, you would see her actions in a very different light. I cannot blame you for protesting her behavior towards our guests; I am sure it must seem both callous and—and somewhat capricious. But she is not like that at all. Perhaps her idea about the hat
was
ill-advised—certainly it turned out to be so, did it not?”
    She had circled away from where he was standing and now she turned back to face him. “Truly, she is sweet and generous, quite different from what people think. If only you could understand . . .”
    But of course, how could he, when she could not tell him the whole truth? “Venetia does not do such things for amusement. How else are we to know which man would make a good husband? It is not merely our own happiness and future at stake, but a matter of the family fortune and lineage as well . . .”
    “Do you not trust your father’s judgment?”
    Ah, now how was she to answer that? Naturally a man would see it in such simple terms. But she could not expose her father’s failings any more than she could reveal her own affliction. What would Venetia say? She was so much better with words.
    “Our father has allowed us a certain measure of choice. We take these steps precisely for that reason. There are many men who would, uh, take advantage of our situation. Venetia is only trying to make certain that we know what we are getting. She means no harm by it.”
    “I see,” said Lord Cranford.
    Vivian could not tell if he understood even slightly. At least she had tried. So much of Venetia’s behavior was for her sake, she could not bear to have him think ill of her twin.
    The viscount came up to her and took her right hand. “I think you are the one who is sweet and generous to attempt to defend your sister. I will try to remember what you’ve said. I only hope you two are not looking for perfection to match your own, for you will never find it.” He raised her hand and kissed it.
    Vivian sighed. “You are very kind.”
And so handsome, too.
If only he were eligible! He would make a fine husband for anyone. Well, anyone except for her. Any man who was patient, kind, and understanding enough to live with her infirmity should be spared from such a fate. Marriage was not the right future for her, no matter what her father or even Venetia believed. If only she knew how to convince them.

Chapter Seven
    Venetia slept badly that night and was still out of sorts when she awoke the following morning. Breakfast in her room and the prospect of the day’s planned activities did nothing to improve her state of mind. Later, as she surveyed the simple blue walking dress her maid had laid out for her to wear to the morning’s archery competition, she wished she could spend the entire day alone.
    Her bad mood had everything to do with the Viscount Cranford and very little to do with her own folly, at least in her own view. If Cranford had not happened along when he did, she thought, she most certainly would not have slipped when she threw her hat into the river, and she would not have needed rescuing. Perhaps Colonel Hatherwick would still have fished the hat out with his fishing pole, but perhaps not. If one of the other gentlemen had gone into the river after it, it would never have floated downstream to where the colonel was indulging his passion. She and Vivian might still have learned something of value about their suitors.
    What made it so much worse was the indignity of having fallen in. What a foolish predicament to have gotten into! She felt grateful to Lord Cranford for