Lifting her cup, surprised to find her fingers not trembling, she took a sip of her tea, set the cup back on the saucer. “You are not to confront him.”
She supposed that was answer enough because he cursed harshly before rattling the paper and beginning to scour the pages. “Guilty,” he finally barked, then looked at her. “Ten years in Pentonville.”
A sigh of relief rushed out. “Thank God.”
“Why didn’t you come to me, Fancy, and let me know what was happening here?”
He sounded truly hurt, and for that she was sorry. “You’ve taken care of me for so long, Mick. It’s time I took care of myself. And Matthew”—she pressed her lips together, squeezed her eyes shut, opened them—“Rosemont had seen to the matters I couldn’t.”
“Rosemont,” he ground out, narrowing his eyes. “Perhaps I should have a word.”
“No. And don’t you try and work your way around this by asking one of the others to see to him. None of you are to interfere.”
“So there is something between you with which to interfere.”
She rolled her eyes. “Leave off.”
Beneath his breath, he grumbled something about irritating sisters being too independent by half. She took it as a compliment.
“I will be having a word with Dibble, however,” he said sternly, in a voice that would brook no argument. “If he survives those ten years, when he gets out, I’ll be waiting for him.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know his first name.”
“I’m not certain he has one. Never doubt, Fancy, that in spite of the circumstances, you were wanted.”
“I know. Still, I wish they’d been different for Mum. That it had been as she told me. For her sake.”
“She did love her husband.”
“But she was only a little older than me when she lost him. So many years alone.” She couldn’t help but wonder if she was facing the same future.
Mick returned to his newspaper, Aslyn to her porridge. Fancy took another sip of her tea and cradled her cup like it was a tiny bird to be protected. “May I borrow your carriage tonight?”
He jerked his attention back to her. “For what purpose?”
“Is it not enough to know I have a need for it?”
He looked to the ceiling as though answers resided there. “When did you get so stubborn?”
“You’re going to the Fairhaven ball,” Aslyn said quietly, approval lacing her voice.
Forcing her stomach not to knot up at the thought, she nodded. “I need to face them one last time, leave Society on my terms, not theirs.”
“Did we receive an invitation?” Mick asked, although she doubted that he’d stand on the formality of an invitation if he was determined to go.
“We did,” Aslyn said. “That’s why I know of it.”
With a nod, he settled back. “Then we’ll accompany you.”
“I need to do this on my own, Mick. None of you are to go.” Because she knew if she received a cut direct—of which she no doubt would receive many—her siblings would see the offender pay for the slight.
And she needed to stand alone in order to make her own statement: Fancy Trewlove was a woman to be reckoned with.
Chapter 26
Having given in to his sister’s pleadings, Matthew found himself at her damned ball wishing he was in his own residence, tossing back scotch, rather than waltzing with Lady Penelope. All of ten and seven, the girl was too flighty by half and talked constantly about subjects in which he held no interest: flowers, weather, her shopping expeditions. But then he’d experienced the same thing from the five ladies with whom he’d danced prior to her.
He’d not had a chance to visit with any of the gentlemen in order to catch up on the latest manly news, because the moment he’d entered the ballroom, the ladies had swarmed to him like bees in search of nectar.
