Introductions were performed to the frightfully skeletal staff. Notably absent from the ragtag grouping of servants was the housekeeper. At long last, Clara and Ravenscroft settled in for tea in the drawing room with his sisters, who had not joined them for the wedding ceremony or breakfast.
Lady Alexandra and Lady Josephine were dressed in tepid gowns that looked as if they’d been chosen by a grandmother or elderly aunt. Hopelessly out of date, they would have been all the rage a generation ago with their enormous crinolines. Someone ought to take them shopping, find them proper gowns.
Not me, she reminded herself sternly. She had other, far more important plans.Home. Virginia. Gaining the vote.Ravenscroft seated himself at her side, an unwanted distraction.
“We’ve had the greatest excitement here this morning whilst awaiting your arrival,” Lady Josephine informed them breezily as they settled in for tea.
It wasn’t precisely the words of welcome or congratulations—however misplaced—that Clara had anticipated. The earl’s sisters appeared just as unpredictable and unconventional as he.
“The chamber maid was caught with a footman in the library,” Lady Alexandra announced. “Their embrace was not chaste.”
Clara almost spat her tea all over her gown. She didn’t put stock in English airs, but she knew what was done and what was not done in polite company. Finishing school and Lady Bella had made certain of that. She stared at the earl’s sister, who met her gaze without flinching, almost as if she were taking Clara’s measure. Inspecting her mettle.
“Lady Alexandra,” Ravenscroft rebuked. A muscle twitched in his jaw.
Clara couldn’t quite restrain the laugh that bubbled up within her at his displeasure. At last the dissolute man had a weakness. “I’m sure that his lordship will handle the matter with aplomb.”
“There are almost no servants to speak of here, so I doubt he will sack the maid for who will empty the chamber pots? Julian hasn’t even the coin for a housekeeper,” Lady Alexandra continued lightly. “But I suppose you’ve changed that, haven’t you?”
“Lady Alexandra,” the earl repeated, his tone degrading into a growl of displeasure. “Have a care for your tongue.”
Clara studied Lady Alexandra. They were nearly of an age unless she missed her guess. She recognized something of herself in the red-haired girl before her. Rebellious. Trapped in a place she didn’t belong.
“I do hope we can be friends during my time here, Lady Alexandra,” she suggested. “Lady Josephine.”
“Oh, I’m sure you shall be like another sister.” Lady Alexandra’s tone was steeped in sarcasm.
Clara had heard whispers that the sisters more than likely had different fathers, which made sense now that she saw how different they were in appearance. Lady Alexandra was flaming, tall, bold. Josephine was tiny, dark, lovely. It would be a difficult thing, navigating this snobbish society with the hallmarks of their mother’s sins obvious for all to see. Clara felt a kindred sense of pity for them both. She too had lost her mother, and her mother had not been as good a woman as she could’ve been either. Clara herself was a product of her mother’s sins.
“One can only hope,” Clara returned with as much warmth as she could manage when Lady Alexandra pinned her with the sort of glare one might reserve for one’s greatest enemies. She understood now his sisters’ absence at the nuptials.
“Oh yes, we shall be the greatest of friends,” added Lady Josephine.
Ravenscroft muttered something beneath his breath that sounded like an epithet. Clara hid her smile behind her teacup. At least he was finally off his guard. These sisters of his were true trouble. He’d have his hands full managing their respective comeouts.
“Julian tells us we’re to have dowries now since he’s married such a great heiress,” Lady Alexandra said next. “Thank you so much, Miss Whitney. Your marriage portion will do wonders to strip away the stink of Julian’s reputation.”
There it was again, reemerging like an apparition: the earl’s black reputation. For a silly moment, Clara almost defended him to his sister. Then she recalled that perhaps no one knew better than she just how well-deserved his reputation was. She focused instead on the intentional slight Lady Alexandra paid her. Clara tamped down the urge to correct her, for she’d just had an argument with the girl’s brother in which Clara had claimed not to be Lady Ravenscroft at all.
In truth, she was. She had married the earl. He was not as honest as she would’ve foolishly liked to believe. But she was Lady Ravenscroft, at least until she could legally shed the title and her marriage both. And she intended to do just that posthaste.
Ravenscroft wasn’t as inclined toward good will, however. He slammed down his teacup with such force that its contents splashed everywhere. “By God, Lady Alexandra, you will treat my countess with the respect she is due.”
Lady Alexandra blinked, schooling her features into an innocent expression. “Pray accept my forgiveness, Lady Ravenscroft. I meant you no insult.”
Clara knew insincerity when she saw it. Little wonder the earl had scarcely mentioned his sisters to her. She smiled sweetly at the fiery viper. “Of course you have my forgiveness, dear. You needn’t fear I’ll cause too much of a disruption for you all. I won’t be here long.”
“Indeed?” Lady Josephine’s interest was piqued. Her eyes narrowed upon Clara. “Where shall you be going, my lady?”
He hadn’t told them. The revelation caused another stab of suspicion to niggle its way into her mind. She turned to the earl, who met her gaze, unflinching. No, he had not told them at all, which was the reason for their defensiveness. They didn’t like a stranger entering their fold, disrupting their lives. But if he hadn’t been truthful with his own sisters regarding the vagaries of their arrangement, it could only imply one awful thing.
Her world crumbled about her with aching clarity. He meant to keep her. The scoundrel had never intended to allow her to return to Virginia. She’d planned her escape and all the while he’d been planning her entrapment.
I agreed to marry you, love. Nothing more.
The devil. Her stomach churned as the implications hit her with the force of a hurricane. Ravenscroft held her stare, making no move to defend himself or dissuade her from her assumption. He raised a brow, as if to challenge her.
“My lady?” Lady Josephine prodded into the awkward silence that had fallen over the drawing room.
