Page 64 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

“Good.”

Upstairs, the two ladies sat down to continue their earlier conversation. “You were just splendid,” said Jean.

Mrs. Thorpe smiled and shrugged. “Society rests on conventions, you know…a set of expectations about how people will behave. If you act like a duchess, others see you as superior and defer.”

Jean considered. “You make it sound easy. But people are often mocked for their pretentions.”

“Ah.” The older woman held up a finger. “First, you mustact. That is, you must really become that person. Believe it. Embody it. And second, you must behave like a real duchess, not the vulgar crowd’s idea of what one is like.”

“Do you know many duchesses?” Jean asked. “Not that you shouldn’t. It’s just… I don’t.”

“I am a keen observer of human nature,” replied Mrs. Thorpe with another smile. “Now tell me more about the household.”

Jean did so.

“So you’re here at Furness Hall because of the boy,” said her companion when she was finished.

“I came because I had heard Geoffrey was being neglected, yes.” Jean gave a sharp nod. “And he was.”

“But no longer?”

“The situation has improved. It is not…fully resolved.”

Mrs. Thorpe nodded. “You’ve made extraordinary efforts for the child.”

“Alice was a cousin.”

“Even so. You must care a great deal about children.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Alas, no.” Mrs. Thorpe paused for a noticeable moment, and then added. “I knew your father.”

Jean had been full of admiration for her new chaperone. Now she felt as if she’d tripped on an unlighted stairway and fallen into the dark.

“I thought I should say so. When Lord Macklin told me your name, I recognized it.”

Jean’s stomach roiled. Papa had had a penchant for actresses. Had Mrs. Thorpe been one of his mistresses?

“We were not good friends,” the older woman went on, as if reading Jean’s mind. “But he was often around the theater.”

“I believe he was a connoisseur of opera dancers,” replied Jean. “So the gossips say, at least. I wouldn’t know.”

“Not a proper topic for his daughter,” said Mrs. Thorpe.

“Daughter!” The word came out bitter. “By blood, yes. But in no other way. I saw him perhaps three times in my life. We did not converse on any of those occasions.”

The older woman nodded. She didn’t look shocked. “Some men appear to have no interest in family,” she said. “They see it as a female realm and leave such matters to their wives and mothers.”

“Except for their sons, I suppose.” Jean had always known her father would have cared about her if she’d been a boy. Her mother had said so. She breathed more deeply to regain control of her emotions. She didn’t intend to expose any more of her history.

“And then others, like Lord Macklin, are devoted to family interests,” said Mrs. Thorpe.

“Indeed.” Jean stood, ready for this conversation to be over.

“I expect their attitudes depend on how they were taught and treated as children,” the other woman went on. She appeared not to notice Jean’s impatience. Or she merely refused to acknowledge it.

“Perhaps. If one wishes to make excuses.” She did not. People could overcome their upbringing. She had.

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