Lord Deverill's Heir by Catherine Coulter (books to read for 13 year olds .txt) 📕

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 you as a married lady. You were always so very certain of yourself, so very forthright and strong. If you were not so pretty, you could probably pass quite well as a gentleman. My father was always telling me not to let you lead me into mischief. He said you should have been a damned boy because your father only encouraged you in sowing wild oats. He could never understand why Lady Ann didn’t take charge of you. But, I usually saw a gleam of admiration in his eyes when he grumped and complained about you.”

“I remember that you got me into trouble on more than one occasion,” Arabella said. “As for your thinking I wouldn’t marry, that is rather strange. What else is there for a woman to do? Be like that ridiculous Stanhope woman or my aunt Grenhilde? No, marriage is doled out to us. As to my being certain of myself and strong”—Arabella paused, carefully choosing her words—“perhaps it would be better for me now were I more bending, more submissive.”

“Ah, your dominating husband. I begin to think that you and the earl are in a tug of wills, Bella. And it is obvious to me that despite all the bravado and wild exploits of our youth, you are simply not wise in the ways of women.”

“Wise in the ways of women? That sounds like an old gypsy crone who makes up love potions. What on earth are you talking about?” The twinkling laughter dropped from Suzanne’s eyes and her voice became suddenly very serious. “I will tell you, Bella. You have a strong character, but it is simply not a woman’s strong character. No, now don’t interrupt me, for I believe that I am getting to the kernel of the corn.

I have never known you to shy away from something, even