The Heir - Catherine Coulter [82]
Suzanne Talgarth drew up her mare and patted her neck. “Papa guffawed until he was positively purple in the face when I told him that if Arabella Deverill could catch an earl, then I was assured of a duke.”
Arabella reined in Lucifer and looked thoughtfully at her friend. “You know, Suz, it is a great joke, but I do not think it wise that—”
“Lord, Bella, whatever is the matter with you? Ever since you got yourself married, you have changed. You’re too quiet. You stare right through me when I’m being particularly witty. What are you talking about? What the devil isn’t wise?”
“I haven’t changed, not really. It’s just that, no, that’s none of your business. I will tell you what isn’t wise and that is raising young girls to idolize the vision of some ridiculous man who will be their husband. That is ridiculous.”
“You must take care, Bella, for that sounds like a woman disappointed. Mama indeed tried to raise me to believe such nonsense, but you know me. If a man is an ass, well, that’s what he is. You know, sometimes I think it is you who are the great romantic, Bella, not me. I believe you thought to find the grand amour, didn’t you?” At Arabella’s silence, Suzanne laughed, flicking the reins on Bluebell’s glossy brown neck. “Come,” she called over her shoulder, “we are almost at Bury Saint Edmunds. Tell Lucifer that he must do a bit of work today. It’s so lovely, let’s explore the ruins.”
But they didn’t do any exploring. Suzanne dropped gracefully to a grassy mound in the shade of a large elm tree, patted the spot beside her, and continued her thoughts of many minutes before. “No, I would never believe in a grand amour. Indeed, such a notion is absurd, particularly after observing Mama and Papa all these years. In fact,” she said with a tiny frown, “such a thing as love must indeed be for the common people, for I have seen none of it in couples of our class. I suppose it would be nice if someone had it. Do you think perhaps it is possible?”
“I had no idea you were such a snob, Suz,” Arabella said. “But perhaps for girls like us, well, we marry as we’re told to and that’s that. Just like I did, just as my father ordered me even though he was dead.” She smoothed the folds of her blue riding habit about her ankles. How marvelous it was to box away all those dismal black gowns.
Suzanne had just looked at her and nodded. “I like your gown. I hate black as well. My mama will have a fit when she sees you, but you never care. Now, am I a snob?” Suzanne shook her head. “No, not a snob, Bella, merely a realist. Undoubtedly my duke will be well over forty, running to fat, and a gamester in the Carlton House set. But, do you not see, I will be ‘your grace,’ have countless servants to carry out my every whim, and enjoy what one is supposed to enjoy. And that, I think, must be marvelous lobster patties and as much champagne as I can drink.”
“You really do not believe in loving the man you are to wed?” Arabella asked slowly, so unhappy she thought she’d choke on it.
“Such a question coming from you, Arabella? Ah, here I was forgetting your handsome husband. He is beautiful, there is no question about that. He is also charming and well, dominating, but in a protective sort of way. Perhaps you are fond of each other. That would be nice. And I think you’re lucky to wed such a man. He has a chin and he doesn’t have gout. And he is very smart. There are not many like him that I have seen in London. To think, your father handpicked him just for you. Yes, you could definitely have done worse for yourself. And knowing you, if the poor fellow didn’t ride like a champion, you would have ground him into the dirt.”
“Yes, it was my father’s idea, his order.” Arabella said, looking off at the ruins in the distance. “I had no choice, not really. I could not leave Evesham Abbey, you see.”
“How strange it is,” Suzanne said after a few moments, “when we were children, I never quite imagined