“I didn’t think you’d object,” Lucas added.
“No, no indeed. Rather I find it a quite fantastic solution, except for the fact that I might soon be penniless.” Meyer shook his head. “I’m not certain how to solve that problem, but one disaster at a time, eh?”
Lucas had renewed respect for the man. It wasn’t many men of the ton who wouldn’t fall to their knees in worship of their wealth, and here was a man who faced his potential bankruptcy in a forthright manner. “I might be able to assist in that matter as well. We shall see.” Lucas gave a quick bow, and took his leave.
He had a masquerade to oversee tonight.
And a blackguard to take down on the morrow.
There was, indeed, no rest for the wicked.
Chapter Thirty-two
Liliah had chosen to be at peace.
And it was quite certainly a choice.
Because if left to her own devices, she would be having the largest pity party of all. Yet she refused, and focused her attention on her sister. It had been a relaxing afternoon and was one of the few nights when they were not engaged for some sort of theater production or ballroom party, out and about. After dinner, Liliah retired to the library to spend the remainder of the evening with her sister and a favorite novel.
Unbidden, sorrow flowed over her soul with the realization that these evenings with her sister were numbered. Samantha was sitting in the chair, her softly curled hair was styled in a simple chignon, and the firelight gave her an angelic glow.
Yet her brow was pinched and her lip was pulled between her teeth as she read. Liliah sat up straighter. “Are you well? What are you reading that has you so concerned?” she asked, a slight teasing tone in her voice.
Samantha met her gaze, then set the book down gently on her lap. “Actually . . . may we speak of something?” she asked.
Liliah nodded, setting her own book to the side and awaiting her sister’s leisure.
“Today . . . father called me into his study. I expected us to speak of my come-out next season, but it would appear that I’m not to have one. He’s already secured my match.” Samantha’s words were spoken slowly, as if being pulled from her unwillingly.
Liliah’s first reaction was anger, then pain for her sister, then all the emotions melted into fear.
What possible reason would their father have for keeping Samantha from having a season? She had been looking forward to her come-out for several years, and they had already selected a modiste to make the gowns. It didn’t make sense.
“I’m so very sorry.” Liliah scooted over on the sofa so that she could reach her sister’s hand and hold it. “Who is the man our father has selected? Do we know of him?”
“I confess I do not remember the name, I was in such shock I don’t remember much more of the conversation. It was something like Mayson? Father dismissed me shortly after, not wishing to hear my reaction, and—”
“And you’ve been mulling about it ever since. That is just terrible! Why would he do such a thing? It makes no sense!” Liliah was growing increasingly angry by the moment. Why destroy Samantha’s chances at finding a suitable match? Why take it into his own hands? And if it was Lord Mayson, he was an older gentleman at least twice her age, and known for his penchant for brandy. Surely her father wouldn’t do that to his daughter!
“I’ll figure this out, and we will see how we can prevent it,” Liliah added with feeling.
“I’m afraid he won’t listen to reason, much like he has been with your betrothal to Meyer. He did say something about being done with the whole . . . er . . . situation, with no longer having daughters to oversee. I rather think he simply finds the errand of securing our matches tiresome.”
“What a terrible thing to think!” Yet Liliah saw the truth in her sister’s statement. During her own come-out, her father had resented each action he’d had to make to secure a marriage—that was, until the situation with Meyer came into play. The duke wasn’t a man who suffered the needs of others well, or tolerated their interference with his own plans. He would likely be thrilled to be rid of the baggage of two unmarried daughters—after all, there was no heir for him to consider, and as long as Liliah and Samantha were married off, they could see about producing heirs. It truly did make sense, in a distorted way.
“What are you thinking?” Samantha asked, her tone worried.
Liliah gave her sister a gentle smile. “Just that our father doesn’t deserve us.”
Samantha returned the smile, but it faded quickly. “Thank you, I actually needed to hear that. It’s difficult to think of myself as a burden to him. I’ve always tried to be what he wanted me to be, and for me to consider that it was all for naught, it . . . hurts.”
“Of course it does. Well, what I will do is this. I shall speak to Father about overseeing your come-out, since as a married lady I’ll be a proper chaperone, and then perhaps that will change his mind.” Liliah gave a squeeze to her sister’s hand.
Samantha squeezed back. “Thank you. You always know what to do.”
Liliah giggled. “No, but I usually react, and that’s sometimes good, and sometimes . . . not good.”
“I wish I had your courage.”
