The Earl, the Lady and the Song of Love by Fanny Finch
Chapter 9
After Aunt Rachel left, Imogen continued to think about the conversation they had had about asking her father to find her a husband.
Those thoughts kept her up late into the night before the wiles of sleep finally lured her away into the land of dreams.
There, she found herself at a magical ball, dancing with the most charming man she had ever met. He was tall and dark. She could not quite see his face, but somehow, she was certain he was very handsome.
He told her she was the fairest of them all and as they waltzed into the night, she knew that she had never been happier.
Her fairytale ended too quickly, and she awoke to Elena’s happy humming.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, flinching when golden rays threatened to blind her.
“You are here early,” she muttered as she sat up.
Elena, who was dusting off the furniture, instantly turned to her.
“You are awake! Good morning, Miss Imogen. Did you sleep well?”
Imogen smiled as she remembered her dream.
“I did,” she answered. “Very well, in fact.”
“Oohh, it sounds like someone had sweet dreams,” Elena teased, continuing her chore.
Imogen’s smile simply widened. “The sweetest. It might have ended even more beautifully had you not awakened me with your humming.”
Elena turned to her again, her eyes filled with remorse. “Forgive me, Miss Imogen. I did not know I was being so loud. It will never happen again.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I am glad I am up. There is something I must do, anyway.”
Elena’s brow raised in question. “Oh?”
Imogen nodded as she threw the covers aside, getting out of bed.
“Yes. I must see Father. There is much to discuss. Prepare my bath water, will you? I shall find a dress to wear. I find I am in excellent spirits this morning.”
She stretched as she finally stood on her feet, still smiling. She could not remember the last time she had woken up feeling so wonderfully.
As soon as she was done stretching, she went to her wardrobe.
“I think I shall wear something bright and warm today. Fitting for my mood.”
She could hear the smile in her maid’s voice when she responded. “I am sure you shall look beautiful as always, Miss Imogen. I shall be back with your bath water in only be a moment.”
Elena bowed her head as she finished speaking and left the room.
As the door closed shut, Imogen’s eyes touched the perfect dress. It was the color of peaches, plain but elegant. It was perfect for a day such as that one. Imogen pulled it out of her wardrobe and danced all the way back to her bed.
An hour later, she was done getting ready for the day. As she made her way down to her father’s study, she wondered if her dreams meant something. Perhaps a sign? Or were they simply a figment of her imagination, come alive?
She soon reached the huge mahogany doors, and as she knocked, she decided to push those thoughts aside.
Whatever the dreams meant or did not mean mattered little. She only hoped to keep having more of them.
“Come in,” she heard her father call from inside.
Wasting no time, she pulled the door open and stepped into his study.
She saw the surprise in his eyes as he looked up at her.
“Imogen . . . I was not expecting to see you,” he chimed. “What brings you here so early in the morning? We have not even had breakfast yet.”
She offered him a small smile and walked to his desk.
“I thought it would be best to speak before then. There is something I wish to say to you, and I fear I cannot wait any longer.”
His face immediately grew sober with worry, but Imogen was quick to dispel his fears.
“Oh no, Father, ’tis nothing to worry yourself over, I assure you. In fact,” she said as she finally reached his desk, “I believe it is news that will gladden your heart.”
“Truly?” her father asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.
She nodded and pulled out a chair to sit.
“Alright then, tell me. What is it?”
Imogen let a small moment of silence pass before speaking.
“Aunty Rachel says it was you who arranged her marriage to Uncle Peter,” she started.
Her father smiled, as though reminded of a fond memory, as he relaxed in his seat.
“That is true. It has been almost three decades yet the memories remain fresh in my mind, as if it were only just yesterday.”
“Aunty Rachel says you did well. She remains ever grateful for your choice and involvement.”
Her father’s smile widened.
“You know, Imogen, when I look back at the life I have led, there are many things that I am proud of. The decision to match my dear friend and your aunt is one of them. They have built a very beautiful marriage, a peaceful home.”
“All because you chose well,” Imogen pointed out.
Her father shook his head. “No, Imogen. I might have reckoned that they would make a good match. Nonetheless, it is them who have done all the work to have what they now share. No matter how suited two people are for each other, they must be willing to do all that it takes to remain together.”
“Will you help me then?” Imogen asked, not missing a beat. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. “Will you choose a man for your daughter just as you did for your dear sister?”
Mr. Hartford was evidently taken aback by these questions. As he recovered from his surprised state, he clasped his hands and heaved a deep sigh.
“Did Rachel put you up to this?”
It was Imogen’s turn to shake her head. “She agreed it was worth a try, but it was I who first decided to ask you.”
“So, is this what you want? Truly?”
Imogen nodded. “Yes, Father.”
“Have you given it much thought?”
“All night long. I have decided. I want you to choose for me. I trust you, Father. Whoever you choose, I shall accept him.”
“But . . . you have always wanted to marry for love. Just like your mother and I.”
Imogen lowered her gaze then, suddenly sad.
“Not everyone is lucky enough to marry for love. I can only hope to grow in it after marriage. Nevertheless, I am no longer the naïve girl who entertains such notions. As long as he is a good man who cares for me, I shall be happy.”
Her father sat up then. “This is not about that cad, Exeter, is it?”
Imogen would not speak. She did not want to upset her father by letting him know just how deeply the betrayal had affected her.
“Imogen, look at me.” It was a soft plea. One she could not resist, so she obeyed.
As she looked into those familiar brown eyes, emotions overwhelmed her once more, and she wished she could go back to the time before she met Lord Exeter, before she knew what it was to be hurt by love.
Her father must have read those emotions in her eyes, for he cursed under his breath.
“Do not let him take away your joy and dreams, Imogen. He is not worthy. I fear you have made this rather rash decision out of pain. Your heart is still broken, the wound is still fresh. Heal and see if it is what you still want. If you come to me again, then I shall do as you say.”
Imogen shook her head again. “I have decided. This is what I want, and I want it now. I will still want the same a year from now. I have learned. I have come to see that love is a fickle emotion and I am terrible at making the right choice.”
She took his hands then, holding them fervently. “Please Father, do this for me. Surely, you must know someone? I am grateful that you want to let me decide for myself, but I no longer want to. I want you to choose for me. Please?”
“Oh, Imogen,” he sighed again. “There is nothing wrong with you. You bear no fault in what has happened, not even for choosing him. It is he who failed at being a better man for you.”
She did not miss a beat. “How am I ever to know which gentleman will decide to be a better man for me? At least, I trust your judgement. You chose Uncle Peter, and you chose Mother. See how those turned out!”
For a long time, he said nothing. Finally, he exhaled deeply.
“Fine. I shall do as you say.”
Imogen’s heart skipped a beat, and she wanted to shout for joy.
“There is someone that comes to mind, a business associate from a reputable family,” her father continued. “I used to do business with his father, but the man was taken too early by a sudden illness. His mother is a wonderful woman and his stepfather, an even closer friend.” He paused, as his lips curved in a fond smile.
“These past seven years in which I have worked with him, he has only ever given me reason to admire and respect him. He is yet to be married, and I hear he is looking to take a wife this season. I shall speak with him. See what he thinks.”
Imogen was instantly curious. She wanted to meet this man right away. She wanted to know what he looked like, see the kind of man he was for herself.
As she felt excitement begin to grow inside of her, she quickly cautioned herself.
It would be best not to get her hopes up if she did not want them shattered, leaving her disappointed and hurt again.
She would wait for her father to speak with this man. If he decided to meet her, she would oblige. Still, she should continue to be weary until he has proven himself trustworthy.
Only then, will she let herself feel hope.
“What is his name?” she asked, her voice soft, calm.
Her father was quick to answer. “Nigel Derby. The Earl of Kensington.”
“Lord Kensington,” Imogen repeated.
The title did not ring a bell but the name, for some reason, reminded her of the tall, dark, charming stranger in her dreams.
Nigel Derby. A most fascinating name.
It made her even more eager to meet him.