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Lottie spoke with her, but Eleanor didn’t hear much of what was said, just as she hadn’t heard much of what her mother said that day. When the music started, it was pleasant, but it did nothing to soothe her. If anything, it made the darkness in her stomach grow until she couldn’t take it anymore.

Once the first song was done, Eleanor got up from her chair and walked out of the room, holding her hand over her mouth. She saw someone stirring on the opposite side of the room and hoped her hardest that the gentleman had not taken it upon himself to follow her out of the house to try and soothe her. She very much wanted to be alone.

When Eleanor got outside into the fresh air, she burst into tears and didn’t care who saw.

Then a hand on her shoulder made her jump, but when she spun around, she found Lottie there.

“Oh, Lottie,” Eleanor cried. She fell into her friend’s arms. “I’m sorry, Lottie. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Charlotte held her friend tightly and rubbed her back. After some time, she added, “Unless you really do have something to be sorry for.”

Eleanor chuckled through the sobs. She took a deep, shaky breath in through her nose and moved back a little, breaking the embrace. Eleanor quickly pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her cheeks.

“I’m a mess, Lottie.”

“We’re all a mess sometimes,” Charlotte told her. “If you want to talk about it, I’m always here for you.”

The kiss was troubling her. The intimacy of standing together, saying nothing, but thinking about everything. She wasn’t sure whether she should feel terrible about it, but she couldn’t talk to anyone about it. It wasn’t right.

“No one seems to be interested in who I truly am,” Eleanor complained. “I feel like I’m supposed to sit there while men bring me gifts and talk to me about what they want to talk to me about, and I’m supposed to be grateful for it. I spent two hours listening to a man talk about turnips, and not once did he ask anything about me. What am I supposed to do? Be happy that someone wants me when they don’t really want me?”

Eleanor burst into tears again. Not only because of what she had just complained about, but because it was what she had wanted all along. Well, perhaps not exactly what she wanted. She didn’t need love and affection; she only needed a man who would let her be.

“They all have an opinion on who I should be, but I only want to be me. I know what I must do, and that is to marry, but should I not have a say in the matter? No one knows me better than I do, and I know what I want.” And I don’t want to become broken and fragile because of someone who does not know who I am. “If I’m expected to become someone else just to please a man, then I’d rather not marry at all.”

“Yeah, tell your mother that,” Charlotte commented.

Eleanor laughed again. Her mother’s entire mission in life, except for enjoying the Season on her own terms, was to see Eleanor married.

“I’m tired, Lottie,” Eleanor said. “That’s all it is. I’m just tired of everything that’s going on, and I need to get some rest. I know I’ll find a husband; I just don’t need men like Mr. Ghent telling me who I need to be for him to accept me. And he’s not the only one. I just need to be left alone, or not left alone, or appreciated, or not even that.”

Eleanor rubbed her face in her hands.

“I don’t know what I need or want, Lottie,” Eleanor added. “How am I supposed to find a husband when I can’t even figure out what I want?”

“You will,” Charlotte told her. “You are an amazing woman, Ellie. I know this is a lot, but you will get through this, and I will be here with you.”

“I know, I know,” Eleanor sobbed. “I just need to go home and be by myself. I can’t be around people right now. Please, will you find Mother so we can go?”

“Of course,” Charlotte told her. “Wait right here.” Charlotte turned to go inside but stopped and turned back to Eleanor. “And maybe don’t talk to anyone.”

Eleanor laughed again as the tears streaked her cheeks.

“What am I supposed to do?” she muttered once Charlotte had left. “It’s all too much, and the weight of expectation will surely crush me as it did with Mother. And amid that, all I can think about is when I’ll get another chance to kiss His Grace. I feel like I’m going crazy!”

Eleanor stopped muttering and looked around, thankful that no one was on the street to hear her.

She was sure in that moment that she didn’t have the strength to make it through the Season without cracking.

CHAPTER 18

“She’s calling it Déjeuner,” Charlotte told Eleanor.

They stood in one of two large white tents erected at great cost to Lady Waterman, who hosted the event. The tent they were in held the buffet, and the other had a temporary wooden floor for the dancing.

“It’s a breakfast,” Charlotte continued. “Not to diminish it by any means because there is a wonderful assortment of food here, and the decorations and furnishings are lavish, but this is still a breakfast, not a déjeuner.”

“Mmm,” Eleanor murmured.