The Marquess and the Midwife (*On Hold*)

3 Norah

"I look like a cupcake."

"A delicious cupcake," my father offered, unhelpfully, but shut his mouth the moment I glanced his way. "Right."

"You have to stop her," I begged for the fourth time today. "She ordered ten new dresses this morning, father. Ten. I'll have enough to change at every meal."

My father snorted.

"Father," I said, my firm tone bringing him out of his joviality.

"I will speak to her," he promised, gently. "But you know your mother. Once she sets her mind to something..."

"We all suffer."

My father frowned. I sighed, closing my eyes and attempting to rein in my displeasure.

"I was doing fine in the country, father. Well even," I told him, my voice softer.

"I know, dear," he replied, his own tone one of measured exhaustion. "But while assisting in the birthing process is a noble pursuit and while I am proud of your success in the field while medicine in general is not for the faint of heart, such tasks are below your station, Norah."

"I did not ask for this station," I snapped and then, thinking better of it, took a breath. "What I mean, father, is that it is not my intention to allow myself to be traded off to the highest bidding gentleman."

"I have no intention of entering into a betrothal contract without your consent."

"Mother made it sound as though–"

"Your mother has the gift of stretching any truth into whatever fits her desires," he interrupted me, leaning over his desk between us and fixing me with a gaze that I knew, from experience, meant he was serious on the matter and was leaving no room for argument. "I am not bartering away your future, Norah, not without your say so. All I ask, all we ask, is that you participate in the season. You debut and you consider your options. If, by the end of it, you've no interest at all in pursuing any of the gentlemen you meet, then you may return to Lord Watt's country estate with my blessing."

I watched him for a moment, taking in the tired eyes, the sunken cheekbones, the pallid color of his skin. He was sick. We hadn't discussed it since I'd arrived, just as we hadn't discussed it for the last five years since the first signs of the illness began to show. But it was there, a shadow hovering over our lives, seen but unspoken of. As if talking about it would bring it into the light and solidify its position in our reality.

"Fair enough," I replied to my father now, seeing how tired just this slight discussion had made him. I had no wish to cause him further discomfort. I wouldn't have come to him with this at all had I known he was having another one of his bad days. So I gave him a nod that indicated I promised to try and then left him alone in his office, striding back through the halls toward my room.

I could deal with my mother. I had been doing so for the majority of my life already. Though I'd always had a buffer before. My father, my sister. Now, it was just me. Now, I was alone in facing her. It would be much more difficult to turn her away, to deny her anything she decided she wanted. I had already failed this morning when she had dragged me into town and declared she was purchasing nearly a dozen new dresses for me since I was finally planning to debut this season. She'd made that announcement loud enough to set every woman in the shop to whispering and I'd bit my tongue while she selected gown after gown while tossing insults at the "country" dresses I'd brought with me from North Yorkshire.

I did not say anything while she and the seamstress poked and prodded at my body wrapped in silk and satin and chiffon. I did not say anything when she dragged me down the street to have tea and parade me in front of her friends. I did not say anything when she pulled me into the cobbler and ordered more pairs of shoes than half the gentry owned. But I drew the line at jewelry. I hated the accessories. The gems were too heavy and the chains made my neck and wrists itch. So I let my mother stroll through the glittering shop and I headed back out on the street where I promised to wait by the carriage.