Page 23 of Suddenly a (The St. Clairs 5)

“I’ll see the family rooms first. Then the master bedchamber,” Lady Morrison said.

Mia led them to the first floor. They saw the drawing room, a parlor, and her mother’s old sitting room.

“I can’t look at another room,” the viscountess proclaimed. “This place is in wretched condition. It’s filthy and tumbling down. Everything is older than the hills of Rome. It might be better to burn the structure to the ground, Morrison, and everything from the carpets to the drapes to the furniture in it.” She focused her attention on Mia. “You let things sink low. You were the lady of the manor. You were supposed to care for this house and your father. Obviously, you abandoned those duties. Just look at you. Dressed as a man. It’s obscene. The next thing you’ll tell me is there is no money.”

“There isn’t,” she confirmed. “Papa chose to use any money from the estate to invest in his machines.”

“He certainly wasn’t very clever, now was he, my dear?” the viscountess asked. “If he had been, you wouldn’t be living in squalor. As far as the contract with the St. Clairs for a piece of your junk, don’t think you’ll be able to survive on that for long. It’s a good thing you have someplace to go because I would never stoop so low as to want your company, much less claim you as a family member. I find it laughable that you’re to be given a Season. You’ll never attract a man because you have no social graces—and no dowry.”

“How dare you!”

Mia turned and saw Aunt Fanny standing there, spots of red on her cheeks. Her own face flamed with humiliation at this woman’s savage words.

“You are deliberately cruel to Mia, who has just lost her beloved father?” Aunt Fanny asked.

Lady Morrison shrugged. “She’s no relation of mine. My husband won’t claim her either. It would be an embarrassment for either of us to acknowledge the tenuous relationship in Polite Society. Don’t ask for a dowry for her from us. Even if she had twenty thousand pounds, no man would ever want a creature such as her.”

Her cousin chimed in. “We’ve had quite enough of your company, Lady Trentham. It’s tiresome. Take your husband and niece and leave.”

Mia held her head high. “My things are already packed. I’ll have them brought down at once. Good riddance, Lord Morrison.”

Before she turned to leave, Lady Morrison said, “You don’t need your things. They are our things now. Everything in this house belongs to Viscount Morrison. You’ll leave with the clothes on your back and nothing more.”

She thought of the few clothes she had and could do without them. Even the few books she’d packed could be replaced. The only thing of real value to her was a locket which had belonged to her mother.

Summoning her courage, she asked, “Might I retrieve a locket from my room? It was my mother’s and given to me upon her death.” Surely, they would allow that.

Then she saw the look the couple exchanged.

“I think not,” Morrison said.

“My sister brought a manor house into the marriage,” Aunt Fanny said. “It was to be sold and the proceeds used for Mia’s dowry.”

“Had my uncle already done so before his death?” asked Morrison, not bothering to hide his feral smile. “Was that a stipulation in his will? I doubt it. Uncle was a dreamer, not a planner. Poor Mia must suffer for her father’s lack of interest in her future.”

“Don’t make me ask again,” Lady Morrison warned.

Mia met the woman’s gaze. “You won’t have to. We’re leaving.”

With that, she left the room, her aunt and uncle falling in behind her. Barely holding on by a thread, she hurried down the stairs and out the front door, not stopping to bid Cook or the maid goodbye. She marched to the carriage as the footman opened the door and climbed inside. She hadn’t even stopped for her cloak.

Her aunt and uncle climbed inside and the vehicle took off immediately. As they pulled away from Morris Park, her sobs began—and lasted all the way to London.

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