Page 52 of Oddity of the Ton
“Speak no more!” Mother cried. “Must you distress your poor mother so? That creature isnotyour sister! As for Miss Howard—Lady Fairchild has much to say about the girl’s eccentricities. And Lady Francis called on me this morning to convey her sympathies.”
Monty let out a snort. “Lady Francis is an empty-headed fool, with nothing but gowns and jewels on her mind.”
“I willnotbe pitied!” she said. “If you must marry the girl, then so be it. But I shan’t remain here to be ridiculed because of it.” She reached into her reticule and drew out a handkerchief, dabbing it against her eyes. “Unless, of course,” she added, “there’s anything you might wish to say—or do—to ease your poor mother’s heart.”
He caught a glimmer of cunning in her expression before she dabbed her eyes again. Then she lowered her handkerchief—which, no doubt, was as dry now as it had been before—and looked at him expectantly.
Her show of fleeing to Rosecombe was a ruse. Perhaps she thought herself a gamester, attempting to persuade her opponent that she had the better hand.
Then he would do what any self-respecting player would—call her bluff.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Very well, Mother dearest,” he said. “I shall bid you a safe journey.”
Her eyes widened. “If you’re resolved in this…”
“I am,” he said.
“Then I wish you joy,” she said, her tone conveying anything but. Then she nodded, and the footman helped her into the carriage.
Monty rapped the side of the carriage. “Drive on!”
The carriage set off, and he watched it roll away, the horses’ hooves clip-clopping on the road. Then it turned a corner at the end of the street and disappeared.
Chapter Seventeen
“Sit up straight,Eleanor!”
Eleanor jerked upright—a not inconsiderable feat, given that the carriage kept lurching sideways.
“No one can see me, Mother,” she said.
“Why must you always answer back?” her mother retorted. “Leonard, tell her.”
Eleanor’s father raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“I was only stating a fact, Mother,” Eleanor continued. “Can’t I relax while we’re not in public?”
“No. We must be wary at all times of being seen—especially now our family is connected to nobility.”
“I’m not married yet,” Eleanor said. “I—Ouch!”
Her mother rapped her across the arm with her fan. Eleanor drew her cloak around her and sat back.
“Eleanor, Itoldyou not to slouch. I don’t want the Fairchilds upstaging us because of your lack of decorum.”
“Leave her be, Grace!” Papa said. He gestured to the carriage window, where raindrops battered the glass, forming rivulets that ran in jagged lines toward the sill. “The weather will ensure we’re all on the same level tonight. We’ll be soaked as soon as we step outside the carriage.” He winked at Eleanor before resuming his attention on Mother. “Not to mention the horse dung underfoot from all the carriages. Knee deep we’ll be, before we’ve even reached the front door.”
“Not if our carriage arrives first.”
Of that, there was little chance, given how long Juliette had spent fashioning her hair—an intricate array of ringlets and pearls that overshadowed the corsage of wild grasses Harriet had placed in Eleanor’s hair.
The carriage drew to a halt, and Eleanor caught sight of a myriad of lights flickering in the evening air, and a crush of activity, that made her stomach churn.
So many people! Why did they take such joy from congregating in crowds?
Carriages lined the road, and footmen ran to and fro, carrying umbrellas and torches, as they escorted the guests toward the sanctuary of Lady Francis’s front door.
If Lady Francis’s house could be consideredsanctuary.
