The Restless Viscountess

Chapter 8

“Don’t steal because it’s immoral, not because you’re afraid you’ll get caught.” Jarod Kintz, This Book is Not FOR SALE

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Chapter Eight

The introduction of the Baronet Spencer’s younger brother into society was not very successful. Simon’s prolonged absence, or rather avoidance, had seen to that. Although he did make an appearance in the early hours of the morning, several of the guests did miss out of speaking to the decorated colonel.

Imogen was glad that the gossip following the ball did not mention Simon’s scar. It was obvious that he was very self-conscious and embarrassed about his scar. Of course there was general curiosity, but none were disgusted as he seemed to think people would be. He was a colonel. He had seen battle. He was bound to have scars, inside and out.

A fortnight later, and with no sign of Elena’s visiting relatives, it was decided that the christening could not be put off any longer. Ana and Aurelia were nearly two months old and their christening needed to be organised.

While Elena and David were in the village with the vicar, Imogen and Alexandra were putting their sewing skills to use by altering their own christening gowns. After twenty years, their christening gowns were dated and tatty. They needed love.

Imogen could see that Alexandra was growing more and more forlorn by the day. She was genuinely worried that if her sister did not let go of her delusions of Joaquín that she would develop melancholia.  

“Allie, he is betrothed!” Imogen cried exasperatedly after Alexandra’s fourth lethargic sigh. “Perhaps even married, we do not know. It has been a year since you last saw him. Have you heard from him? Has he given you any indication that he is returning for you?” Imogen knew she was being harsh, but she had already been tender one too many times. Alexandra needed to move on, now.

Alexandra’s hazel eyes widened at Imogen’s sudden outburst. “I know he is betrothed,” she snapped, before hissing as she pricked herself with her sewing needle. “And no, I have not heard from him. Forgive me for being reluctant to accept a proposal from just anyone in one of the countless ballrooms we frequent. Once I accept, it is done. I will be shackled forever. Is it really so wrong for me to hold out for the man I want?”

It was now Imogen who sighed. How right she was. Once they accepted, once they married, they would be shackled forever. If they did not accept the right man, then they were effectively signing over their lives to someone who might misuse them. “Why Joaquín?” she asked softly.

Alexandra smiled slightly. “I feel like I have danced with a thousand men, Imogen, and none have ever looked at me the way he did. In the short time we knew each other, he made me feel interesting, clever, and special.” To have an aristocratic gentleman stir such feelings in a young lady was rare. Women were not supposed to be bright, or at least they were not supposed to show it. “He also made me feel safe and protected,” Alexandra continued wistfully. Imogen believed that Joaquín’s power and influence had something to do with those feelings.

Imogen did truly sympathise with her sister. Those feelings were rarities, and ordinarily she would encourage the match, but it simply was not feasible. “I truly am sorry, Allie,” she said sincerely. “What an unlucky hand you have been dealt.”

Alexandra smiled down at the christening gown she was unpicking. The sisters were adding new ivory silk to the skirts. “I would not say that,” she replied quietly. “Perhaps in love, but not in life.” She held up the christening gown. “My pretty little niece will be wearing my christening gown. A new generation of Wilde young girls.”