Читать книгу The Wedding Challenge - Candace Camp, Candace Camp - Страница 13

FRANCESCA STARED at her visitor blankly. “Pardon me?”

“I have decided to marry, and everyone assures me that you are the person to turn to when one is looking for a husband.”

“But, Callie…” Francesca looked dubious. “I thought that you were upset because your grandmother and Lady Odelia were pushing you to marry. It sounds to me as if you are simply trying to please them again.”

“No. Truly, I am not,” Callie told her earnestly. “You see, it is not that I am against marriage. I am not a bluestocking who would rather spend my life quietly reading than marry. And I am not independent like Irene, or wary of tying my life to a man’s. I want to marry. I want to have a husband and children and a home of my own. Don’t you see? I do not want to spend the rest of my life as Rochford’s sister or the duchess’s granddaughter. I want my own life. And the only way I can have that is to marry.”

“But, surely, if you wanted to be on your own…you are over twenty-one and in possession of an ample fortune.”

“Are you suggesting that I set up my own household?” Callie asked wryly. “And have the entire beau monde asking what has happened to set Rochford and me at odds with each other? Or listen to my grandmother lecturing me on my ingratitude, and my duty to my brother and to her? I have no wish to break with my family. I only want to have a life apart from them. To be free from the restrictions. But I would still have them all even if I had my own household. I would have to hire an older companion, preferably a widow, to live with me, and I would still be a young unmarried woman, unable to go anywhere or do anything on my own. You know what it is like, Francesca. It is not until you are married that you have the slightest freedom at all. I would so love to have a green ball gown. Or one of deep royal blue. Or any color other than this everlasting white!”

Francesca began to chuckle. “I remember that feeling. But you can hardly want to marry just to be able to wear royal blue.”

“Sometimes I think I might,” Callie retorted, then sighed. “But of course it is not just that. I want to be married. I feel sometimes as if I am bobbing along going nowhere, simply keeping pace, waiting for my life to begin. I want to start my life.”

Francesca leaned forward earnestly. “But, surely, my dear, you must have an ample amount of suitors. I would think you would only have to beckon and a dozen men would be on your doorstep, asking Rochford for your hand.”

“Oh, I have had no lack of suitors,” Callie admitted with a sigh. “But all too often they have been fortune hunters. There are other men, I think, who are actually reluctant to even approach me because of who I am. They do not want to be seen as opportunists, or they think that I would never consider them because they haven’t the proper amount of wealth or a noble-enough name. People assume, without even meeting me, that I am very high in the instep. And I am not, you know.”