Page 84 of Oddity of the Ton
“Mother, I don’t think—”
“Tell me I’m wrong, Montague,” she said. “Look me in the eye and say that you honestly intend to marry Miss Howard.”
The footman tensed.
“Mother…”
“You owe me the truth, if nothing else,” she said. Then she gestured toward Miss Howard. “And you owe it toher.”
Monty sighed and dropped the plate of sandwiches back into the basket.
“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t intend to marry her.”
The footman frowned, disapproval in his eyes.
“You must send Miss Howard home at once,” Mother said.
“Why, because she’s not grand enough for you?” he snapped.
“No, Montague,” she replied coldly. “It’s because keeping her here is stooping to a depth of cruelty I’d have thought beyond you. Your father might have taken pleasure in toying with a perfectly pleasant young woman—but I thought better ofyou.”
“It’s not like that, Mother,” he said. “Miss Howard is aware of the circumstances of our engagement, and she agreed to them.”
“Agreed, perhaps, butwillingly? Was she party to the decision, or did you merely tell her?”
“I told her, but—”
“Whendid you tell her, Montague? The night of your proposal? Miss Howard told me that you hadn’t spoken a word to her until that evening—and that she believed you weren’t even aware of her existence until then.”
Devil’s toes—put like that, it made him sound like the very worst of cads.
“I told her the following morning,” he said, his cheeks warming with shame.
“I thought I’d raised you better than that, Montague.”
“You didn’t raise me at all, Mother.”
“Must you answer back all the time?” she cried. “Miss Howard is a charming creature, though she’d make a hopeless mistress of Rosecombe.”
“Why’s that?” Monty asked. “All a duchess need do is give birth to dukes and do what she’s told.”
“You underestimate what I did for your father if you think that. A duchess is at the pinnacle of Society. She must instill awe and respect in everyone she encounters. She must run a household steeped in responsibility and tradition, with none to help her, and maintain a position of superiority among the tenants and staff. And, not only that, she must turn a blind eye to her husband’s roving one.”
There it is.
“Mother, why must you always hark back to my sister?”
To his credit, the footman tried his best to remain stoic, but he couldn’t disguise the sharp intake of breath at Monty’s reference to thedisgrace that should not be named.
“Must you be so cruel?” she cried. “I’ve told you not to mention that brat.” She gestured toward Miss Howard, who continued with her sketch, oblivious—blissfully so—of the fact that she was being discussed. “I’m thinking ofher, Montague. How do you think she’ll cope when you inevitably cast her aside in favor of another and spawn a litter of bastards?”
“One child out of wedlock is hardly alitter,” Monty said. “Isn’t it time you let it go?”
“While that brat lives here, I’ll not rest.”
“Olivia has as much right to live here as you, Mother,” Monty said. “It’s not as if you’ve set eyes on her—she’s never been to the house. If you wish to blame anyone for her existence, then blame Father—or, perhaps, ask yourself why he felt the need to look elsewhere.”
“Ididn’t betray Beverly.”
