Estelle frowned. She had not forgotten that once she had all but admitted to Torie to expecting a particular gentleman, and been disappointed by his absence. Grimly, she thought that of course Victoire would have better luck, whomever she had invited. He would come.
So she might have asked who their younger sister was angling after now, but first she had to disperse any concerns they had about her. “No,” Estelle said, wan and vague and expending no energy in the statement, as if this would make her seem perfectly calm about everything. “I just have a headache,” she said, which was not true – if she had had headache, she would not have kept quiet about it, but announced it as soon as she had felt the very first pang in her temples, and then made a great scene about possibly having to miss the party. “And it does you no good to look desperate to marry, Torie,” she intoned, almost well-meaning, almost in warning. (And she and Angel were desperate, but they could not all three seem so). “Besides, marriage is the very last thing men are concerned by.”
So she might have asked who their younger sister was angling after now, but first she had to disperse any concerns they had about her. “No,” Estelle said, wan and vague and expending no energy in the statement, as if this would make her seem perfectly calm about everything. “I just have a headache,” she said, which was not true – if she had had headache, she would not have kept quiet about it, but announced it as soon as she had felt the very first pang in her temples, and then made a great scene about possibly having to miss the party. “And it does you no good to look desperate to marry, Torie,” she intoned, almost well-meaning, almost in warning. (And she and Angel were desperate, but they could not all three seem so). “Besides, marriage is the very last thing men are concerned by.”
