But notherhusband. “Did you know of your father’s financial situation?” she asked.
He flicked the ribbons, guiding the horses around the corner. “He’s been dropping hints. I think he received a report from his steward that brought matters to a head.”
“You seemed—” Lucasta curled her fingers in her muff and breathed from her belly. “I had not gathered before that you meant to defy him.”Please defy him. Please, please.
He avoided looking at her. “When he first posed the match to me, I presumed you had no other attachments. But I won’t be saddled with a wife who hates me. Or is in love with another man.”
“I’m not—” Lucasta swallowed back the words. She would not lie.
“I do not hate you,” she said quietly. “But you are correct that I hate not being consulted about my own wishes in the matter.”
Which were what? To pull off the concert with as much style as she could, and then flee to Miss Gregoire’s to lick her wounds in private, count over her meager savings, and drown herself in music until she had come to a proper sense of things and all her newfound fancies had died for lack of feeding.
“We simply refuse, then.” She lifted her chin.
“I can refuse,” Trevor said, drawing the carriage to a halt before Arendale House. “But you’ll need somewhere to go when he throws you into the street.”
The girls had gathered in one of the smaller drawing rooms at Arendale House: Cici, the Gorgons, and Bertie, beaming at her role as hostess. The circle only wanted Judith. She’d adore being introduced to the Gorgons, feeling their fancy gowns and hearing talk of the events at Ranelagh while they sipped tea and nibbled cakes.
Trevor made his bow to Bertie, but left at once when he realized the conversation was about Frotheringale.
“And when he tore off his turban and threw it at Jem!” Bertie giggled. “I vow I thought I might faint in surprise.” She paused. “He’s rather handsome, d’you think?”
Cici’s eyes were wide, round sapphires. “He was ever such a mischievous child.Belle-mèrewould take us on visits to Frotheringale House, and he tormented me till I cried. But when we last saw him after his father died, when he became viscount— He’d quite changed. Trevor hated him from the start, they’realways in competition, but I do think he’s grown up. To think he wants to marryyou, Lucasta!”
Lucasta managed a crooked smile. “He doesn’t want to marry me. He wants the inheritance he thinks my aunt Cornelia will leave me, which includes part of the Frotheringale properties that the old viscount, our great-grandfather, divided up among his children.”
Along with the properties and incomes her aunt had acquired by her own means, through marriage and investment. Her aunt had still given no hint that Lucasta would be her heir of choice, which made her wonder why the Baron and Frotheringale both seemed convinced of it.
“It’s rather unpleasant,” Lucasta added, accepting the tea that Bertie poured for her, “to be wanted for one’s presumed inheritance, and not one’s own self.”
Cici wrinkled her nose. “That’s exactly what I’ve been saying all Season.”
Her new worry struck Lucasta silent. Cici had begun the Season with vague thoughts of enjoying herself and entertaining proposals at the end. Now, it seemed she would have to marry. But who would have her if her dowry disappeared?
Lucasta could offer her a home once she had her studio established, but it would be a great fall for a baron’s daughter. Pevensey’s improvidence had thrown away his children’s future and narrowed his own.
She hugged her muff to her middle. She’d never make enough as a music teacher to support TrevorandCici. Perhaps Aunt Cornelia could be persuaded to help. Or the Dowager Viscountess Frotheringale might bestow something on Aunt Patience, her only remaining daughter.
Of course, if Lucastadidinherit something from Aunt Cornelia, she could provide for her cousins. Without having to marry any of them.
“Try being admired for one’s father’s rank.” Minnie snorted and plucked another cake from the tray.
“Or whom he knows,” Annis agreed, taking the cake Minnie passed her.
Selina bit her lip. “Better than not being wanted at all.”
“Well, at least I had a bit of fun while I could.” Bertie slumped on the settee, her ruffled gown mounded about her. “It seems I’ll be back in mourning again soon. My grandfather arrived a few days ago. He was visiting the estate in Dorset but took ill in his travels. He’s always said he wants to die at his seat in Arendale, but he’s too weak to travel north. Jem’s with him now, and my mother brought in his solicitors to make him review his will.”
“Oh, what terrible news!” Cici cried. “We oughtn’t be imposing on you at such a time.”
“I need the cheering,” Bertie answered, refilling Cici’s dish of tea. “It’s been terribly grim. Mama and I have prepared ourselves, but Jem— I think he’s been trying to pretend our grandfather doesn’t exist. And now he can’t avoid it.”
Bertie met Lucasta’s gaze, then looked away. They both knew how Jem felt about his father. And when the present Earl Payne succeeded the Marquess of Arendale and returned from Barbados, what would happen to the rest of his family?
No wonder Jem had been in a temper at Ranelagh Gardens. It didn’t excuse his unkindness to Lucasta, but fear for what would happen to his half-siblings still in Barbados—if his father would leave them, or bring them to Britain—had to be preying on his mind.
The room stilled as Jem appeared in the doorway. Lucasta’s heart pinched.
