The Seductress' Marriage Ploy

7. One Step Away From Being An Old Maid

Oxford street, London.

JULIA CAVENDISH wasn't sure what to think. She was confused. She didn't know if she was mad at Sebastian or excited that he kissed her. Drat it, Julia didn't even know what to feel anymore. Regardless, one thing was certain to her. She couldn't stop thinking of Sebastian.

Thoughts of him crept up on her when she least expected it. Thoughts of Sebastian plagued her when she slept, when she was doing her needlework when she was riding and even when she was using the chamber pot! Even now in their dining room, all she could think about him. Surely this was madness, Julia thought. In just one night, Sebastian had turned her whole existence around, confuse her, and make her question her own decisions.

Granted, she couldn't make designs on Sebastian, for he wasn't the type of man one just married and quickly forgot about. You would always know his presence. If not because of his good looks, then the sheer size of him alone would inform you of his presence. Hell, he even towered above everyone she knew, with wide, wide shoulders, and calloused hands that had nothing to do with a pampered lord, rather with a man that knows how to use his hands well. Brown shoulder length hair, blue eyes, strong jaw, with a firm wide mouth. Sebastian was dashing, Julia thought.

"Julia."

"Julia!" someone screeched.

This time she snapped out of her thought. Camila was looking at her as if she was expecting a reply.

"Well, what do you think?"

"I'm afraid I might not have heard you, I was wool-gathering," Julia said.

"I said that I am making my coming out next season," Camila muttered through clenched teeth, angry that she had to repeat herself.

"Next season!" Julia asked, astonished. "Whatever for? You are barely out of the schoolroom. Mother!"

"It's best your sister makes her come out on time, that way she will have more time by her side." whipping around so that she faced Julia. "I daresay, we ought to do something about your unmarried state," Ophelia demurred. "There is not much time left to lose. Everything should be tidied up before the season ends."

"But motherâ"

"Next two years, you would be officially on the shelf. If there is anything to do, we ought to do it now. I don't want you to end up like your aunt Annis."

Annis snapped her head up at the mention of her name. Whipping around so she faced Ophelia. "Now listen here Ophelia, I happen to be an old maid because I chose to, not because of any lack of offer being made. And since we are pointing fingers, it might interest your children to know that you were one step away from becoming an old maid, just like me," she said, smirking.

Gasping as if horrified. Ophelia muttered, "I was not."

"Oh you were, trust me when I say your mother was one step away from becoming an old maid like me. Granted she had many offers, as did I, but she was too full of herself, looking down her aristocracy nose at everybody and ---"

"I did not!" Ophelia gasped out, placing one hand on her chest as if she was visibly wounded."

"You were, you thought yourself better than every other young lady. Because you were declared the season's incomparable, young ladies anticipated your arrival at every ball to see what style your modiste has made you, so they could recreate it, or watch how you carried yourself with grace, intent on emulating you." Annis hissed out. "You lost a lot of suitors because you thought them not good enough."

"I did not!" Ophelia rasped out again, colour staining her cheeks.

"If I hear that I did not, one more time. Annis said in perfect imitation of Ophelia, I promise I will bash you with this soup spoon."

Ophelia quickly snapped her mouth shut. She clearly believed Annis threat, or at least expected her to have no difficulty carrying it out.

Camila and Julia were looking at each other over the table, grinning as if they were sharing a very private joke, which they probably were. Aunt Annis and their mother never particularly liked each other. They were always at each other's throat, and it became more intense after their father died. He was always the one to neutralize the arguments, and since he wasn't there, Camila and Julia just sat back and enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

Ophelia was fuming. Scratch that, she was practically glowering at Annis, who just ignored her as she resumed eating her food. Ophelia breathed heavily, in and out, in an effort to control her annoyance. When she thought herself perfectly capable of mustering a speech without marring it with any trace of anger. She opened her mouth and said the last thing Julia wanted to hear.

"I made you a marriage list?

Bloody hell, Julia thought, not another Goddamn list, one was already enough for her. She had her hands full already. Nodding at her mother, to give the impression that she was listening. Ophelia continued with her speech.

"We have the duke of Finchfort. The duke of Pemfield, the duke of Wychford,  the duke of Hanton, the duke ofâ"

"The duke of Hanton!" Julia exploded. "Mother! He ought not to be on the list!" Then her blue eyes squinted as she stared at Ophelia who was sitting at one end of the long table, unfazed by her explosion. "Why do I have this feeling that you only have the names of dukes? For goodness sake, this is not a marriage of alliance!" Julia cried.

"Why ever not?" Ophelia said. "I don't see why you can't marry a duke. It is the highest rank thus far if I had my way, you will marry royalty." Ophelia said smiling deviously.

"I just don't see the reason the duke of Hanton should make the list. He is a rakehell! A debaucher of women." Julia pointed out.

Chuckling softly, Ophelia muttered, "I don't see the problem, reformed rakes make the best husbands, or haven't you heard?"

"He is my best friend's brother!" Julia said, scowling at her mother.

"So? Whoever said you could not marry him?"

Scowling at her mother, who happens to be oblivious to her expression, she muttered, "who else is on the list."

"The marquess of â"

"Mulbury." Camila chirped in, clapping with glee.

She glared at her sister, who positively stuck out her tongue at her such childish behaviour.

"Him too, the marquess of Mulbury...on and on Ophelia went. Oblivious to Julia's crestfallen expression. It seems that her mother had the names of all the young eligible bachelors in the bloody list of hers.