To his surprise, watching Lady Sarah Jane eat her supper was a pleasant affair. She had hurried through the soup and bread but it was incredibly more graceful than what he had observed from breakfast.

Sarah Jane seemed energized for the night, which was why he allowed himself to accompany her in viewing the Killsworth ancestry. At supper, Anthony deduced that Lady Sarah Jane was not informed of the details of her transfer any more than he was.

She confessed that she thought that her father, though intoxicated at that time, could not have given an Earldom to an unrelated peer. Her father had no delusions that he was king.

"Why did Mr. Collins remain at Thurstason," he inquired solicitously.

"Mr. Collins needs to facilitate arrangements of the funeral and fix some documents." She shrugged. "I think; however, that you need not worry about it. The Earldom is yours as far as I am concerned. He would not have thrown me here if that weren't what he believed."

But he wasn't interested in the Earldom. He was more interested in what that had to do with him.

They entered the room and he began his introductions of the Viscounts of Killsworth and their wives. The paintings grew exponentially larger from the 1st Viscount to the last one. Sarah Jane also noticed a wall with a plaque of Anthony's name but had no portrait.

"They don't look happy."

Anthony looked at her curiously. Portraits never looked happy. "The Viscounts?" He had never seen a formal portrait of aristocratic families with smiling expressions.

"Yes. They looked rather burdened." She shook her head and pointed at a particular cinch in the 3rd Viscount's lips. "He seems very displeased about something."

She then moved to the blank wall. "When will you be taking yours?"

"I haven't put a mind to it." His father, of course, had insisted for him to have his portrait taken while he had been still alive. But Anthony had many other pursuits, women and drinking were his favorite recreational activities and that took too much of his time to be idly sitting and posing for a portraitist to paint him.

She answered with a nod, and resisted the urge to ask why he had put it off. She moved slightly to the side and gazed at the portrait of his mother. Somehow, it made Anthony very uneasy.

"She's heartbreakingly beautiful."

"My father used to comment that she is either heartbreakingly beautiful or beautifully heartbreaking," he answered gruffly.

"I can imagine." Her words were soft and admiring. She knew that even if he wanted to conceal it, Anthony loved his mother very much.

As Anthony watched her eyes glisten with tears. He almost reached out to touch her, but the action seemed too intimate that he drew his hand back. He watched her as her face fell, and a shadow of doubt crossed her features, eyes unmoving from his mother's portrait.

"Whatever is the matter?" He just couldn't help himself.

She looked at him and then back at the painting. "Nothing."

The painting room, no matter what house she was in held great significance for her. Although it was not a Tuesday, she could not help but find herself in low spirits.

Even with less than 24 hours of acquaintance, Anthony knew that Lady Sarah Jane was not a girl who took to sadness easily. She was breath of fresh air, cheerful and almost childish in her happy nature.

It was hard to find someone like that, especially in a society where gossip and scandal taunted every individual.

"You can tell me," he urged her and waited if she would trust him with her tales of woe.

She turned her back at him and started to peruse the smaller miniatures in the room. "It will be most uninteresting."

"You can tell me," he repeated for emphasis.

Sarah Jane had always felt alone. Mathilda was always there, she was, after all, her Nurse Harpers, but she hadn't wanted to listen to her rant about her lack of romantic troubles supplemented by girlish imaginations.

Her thoughts had simply been hers alone, and now, it was a wonderful feeling that a man, whom she knew for less than a day seemed to take interest in her thoughts.

"I am afraid that I wouldn't experience a Season," she said averting her eyes to that dust in the air.

She had never felt more alone than in that moment. Her heart filled with longing for a mother to care for her, teach her to be a Lady and accompany her in her first debut.

She did not want to be alone any moment longer. There must be nothing better than to be felt loved and cherished. But if none had her, then life would be most cruel.

"I am afraid to not get married," and remain alone, she added in her mind.

Anthony was sympathetic, but his face registered some doubt. Wasn't she too young to worry about that?

"You need not worry about that now." He hoped that his words comfroted her. Anthony didn't fancy himself good at managing emotions.

Truthfully, he didn't think that a Season would be a worthwhile endeavor for her. Somehow, he knew that it would tear her soul as it did his. London wasn't the friendliest place to be. She was better off in the country, safe from the criticizing eyes of the ton.

She laughed bitterly. "If not now, then when? I'll worry about it when I'm an old crone?" Her voice had become impossibly tight and the high pitched tinge sounded foreign to her ears. "I'm already one-and-twenty. No one will want me."

Anthony skimmed through her sentence and focused on the last bit about no one wanting her. Surely that was not true.

All he could think was Why not? She might not become the most popular girl, but he could imagine a single young lad to take interest in her. She was, after all, very interesting. Marriage with her would not be dull. That should be important enough to make someone, anyone with enough sensibilities, to propose, wouldn't it?

But he decided not to say anything about it.

Sarah Jane looked to the right and then to the left, possibly to find an escape from the awkward position she placed herself in. "Soon, you would have to worry about me." She lowered her gaze.

That certainly caught his attention. Sounds very foreboding.

"... not very much. It was written in the papers..."

Did her father write anything about joining the Rosenbergs with the Killsworth? Did he have to marry her?

Why?

Was that allowed even when both contractors of the pact are dead?

He pursed his lips, it is probably allowed, but it didn't mean he had to do it, did he?

"... I know it's highly improper to talk about money..."

What in devil's name is she talking about?

"...But I have to know, Anthony."

Good god. He wasn't really paying attention. Was there a proposal?

"Will you sponsor my Season? It's my last chance." Her eyes were almost pleading and she was very aware that she sounded like she was begging.

Sarah Jane had led Killsworth to believe that she was sure that Mr. Collins's papers included something along the lines of giving the aging ward a Season, but although it wasn't an outright lie, it was definitely a stretch from the truth.

He exhaled the air that he didn't even know he was holding. A Season. She was asking for a Season, good god, Killsworth, get a hold of yourself.

"Of course," he replied immediately.

Her eyes widened. "You would?" She was a picture of elation.

He grinned. "Do you want me to take it back?"

Her expression made him feel like the best of winners.

"You most certainly cannot!" She jumped up and down, clapping to herself wrapping herself in giddy pleasure.

He smiled, what about it, at least he could make her happy. "It's not in a few years, am I correct?"

She stopped. "A FEW YEARS?" Her voice rose an octave higher. It was sure to rattle frames of portraits and cause groaning doors.

His hands instinctively flew up to his ears to cover his hearing. What had possessed her to yell like that?

"HAVE YOU NOT BEEN LISTENING?"

Oh god, he could still hear her even with his ears covered.

"I am ONE and TWENTY! Ooooneeeeeee..."

Anthony felt like he was dying, a slow and painful death.

"aaaand TWWWWEN—"

With a quick stride, his hand covered her mouth to keep her from saying more.

He nodded vigorously. "I understand now. Please. Please stop." She was one-and-twenty. Yes, he knew that now. "A Season, immediately."

Then he felt necessary to add. "Post haste."

Then he removed his hand. Sarah Jane was, again, flushed with color.

"I apologize, and thank you," she said, as she moved to the next table to inspect more pictures.

Anthony shook his head. This woman will be the death of her husband. Poor lad, he hoped that the man knew what he was getting into before proposing.

Or better, Anthony hoped the lad didn't know what he was getting into so that he would propose and Anthony would finally be rid of her.

He was conflicted to save the lad from an eternity of this or to lead him on so that she would not be the death of him.

Anthony decided to ponder on that more when the woman in question removed herself in his presence.

—————
A/N: I loved my characters so much that I dreamt of them having this argument near the door. It even rhymes a little! HAHAHAHHA life's funny that way.

Thank you for reading my work. It always gives me pleasure to find new readers and meet them or talk to them! I've spent hours dreaming of this story, hours researching so that it would be historically accurate, and hours writing it to the best of my abilities. Comments are highly appreciated so that I can improve further. If you've enjoyed yourself reading this, kindly consider giving it a vote so that it bumps up Wattpad's algorithm :) Thank you!!