Page 21 of Harpy of the Ton
“Her sister Eleanor secured the hand of a duke,” Arabella said.
“By spreading her legs, no doubt,” her aunt sneered. “How else could that ungainly little imbecile have snared a man?”
Arabella winced at her aunt’s vicious words directed at a young woman who, though beneath her in station, had seemed perfectly harmless, if a little reserved.
“Aunt…” she began, but Kathleen pushed her up the staircase.
“I’ll have no more of your insolence,” she snarled. “Your fiancé understands my worth, and he’d punish you for disrespecting me. Once you’re married, he can treat you how he wants, with the full endorsement of the church and the law. So, if you wish for an advocate in your married life, you’d do well to give me the respect I deserve. Now, go upstairs and make yourself presentable before he returns. It’ll be the worse for you if he chooses not to wed you. You won’t want to suffer Miss Howard’s fate.”
Banished to the country to live out her disgrace.
In truth, Juliette Howard’s fate seemed less abhorrent with the passing of each day.
Aunt Kathleen hailed a passing footman.
“Fetch Lady Arabella’s maid—now!”
“Yes, ma’am.” The footman bowed and scuttled off as Arabella’s aunt marched her toward her chamber, opened the door, and pushed her in.
“Calm yourself, child, and make yourself presentable. Then I’ll decide how to punish you.”
“But I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Don’t answer back!” Aunt Kathleen snapped. “I see there’s much I must do with you before your marriage—though I’m sure your fiancé is more than capable of taking you in hand.”
Arabella’s gut twisted at the notion of Duntontaking her in hand.
“Ah,thereyou are, girl,” Aunt Kathleen said as Arabella’s maid appeared. “See if you can fix…that.” She gestured toward Arabella. “Make the best of her, or I’ll have you punished also.”
The maid curtseyed, then waited until Arabella’s aunt had gone before rushing toward Arabella.
“Oh, miss! What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” Arabella said. Despite the girl’s expression of sympathy, she might be like the rest of the servants creeping about the place—ready to spy on her to ingratiate themselves with her aunt, or worse, with Dunton.
“Is it the gardener? Has he done something to distress you?”
So—her maidhadbeen spying on her.
“No, Connie. I’m tired, that’s all.”
The maid placed a light hand on her shoulder, and Arabella’s heart threatened to crack at the pity in her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to bepitied—not by that insolent man in the garden, and certainly not by her maid.
“I only want to see you happy, miss.”
Arabella brushed the maid’s hand aside. “Iamhappy,” she retorted. “What nonsense you speak, Connie. Fetch my evening gown. I wish to change for dinner.”
“It’s not yet six o’clock, miss, and—”
“I didn’t ask what time it was,” Arabella said. “I told you to fetch my gown.”
The maid’s smile disappeared. “As you wish.”
Arabella sat at dressing table and stared at her reflection.
She looked like a farm girl who’d been cavorting in the hedgerow. No wonder her aunt had been so angry!
“Connie, fetch me some water,” she said. “I must wash my face.”
