Although Mr. Goodnight possessed little in the way of wealth, he’d been born into the gentry. He owned land and could ensure that his wife, born and raised on a tenant farm, would never have to work the fields or cook and clean again. When the young and beautiful Ethel Adams had realized she’d caught the attention of such a man, she’d taken full advantage of the situation.
Mr. Goodnight had lived under his beautiful wife’s thumb ever since.
“Darling girl, we’ve tried everything. You are dismal when it comes to conversation, you refuse to go without your spectacles, and you’ve sent the few men whohaveindicated a modicum of interest running with your incessant insistence in expressing your own opinions. Am I to believe this Season will end any differently?”
“But Aunt Gertrude is inWales, Mother. I would never see any of my friends, or you, or Father…” And as scholastic as she was where science and literature were concerned, she struggled abysmally with the local language in Wales. When she’d visited the autumn past, she’d felt as though she’d been sent to another world completely.
Not to mention Aunt Gertrude was an absolute terror. She’d treated Emily no better than she did the chambermaids. She was never content with anything or anyone and gleefully informed them at her first opportunity. Complaining, Emily decided, was the only activity her Aunt Gertrude enjoyed.
She could not go back to Wales! She could not!
“I’ll wear the gown of your choosing and… I’ll not wear my spectacles to the garden party later this week. And… and… I’ll curb my tongue while conversing with gentlemen. Iwillfind a husband this Season, Mother!” As frightening a thought as marrying was, it was not nearly as terrifying as the thought of living as her aunt’s companion.
For what remained of her aunt’s life.
Which, when she’d finally escaped last year to return for Sophia’s second wedding, Emily had sworn she’d never do.
Sophia!
Oh, dear, it was Wednesday!
“I nearly forgot, Mama. I’m meeting Sophia and Rhoda at the park.” Emily held her breath awaiting the response. Surely, she wouldn’t be forced to forgo the engagement. She knew her mother was aware that the girls met weekly. They fed the ducks and caught up on the latest gossip. It had become something of a ritual for them. “Don’t give up on me, Mother. Please? No letters to Aunt Gertrude?”
Ethel Goodnight pinched her lips, marring her natural beauty. “I’m not so sure you ought to continue your association with Miss Mossant,” she surprised Emily by saying. “The duchess is one matter, but I’ve heard unsavory mentions of your other friend.”
“About Rhoda? But that’s ludicrous!” Except… Rhoda had received an unusual amount of masculine attention at the Crabtrees’ ball last night. “What have you heard, Mother?”
Her mother focused once again on her embroidery. “Nothing I will repeat in your hearing. But you would be wise to limit appearing in public with her.”
Emily wondered what her mother would think if she’d known what her daughter had witnessed in the Crabtrees’ library last night.
But what exactlyhadher mother heard about Rhoda? When Emily had finally escaped from her hiding place last night and gone looking for her, she had been told that Rhoda abandoned her dance partner in the garden to be in the company of some other fellow.
Which had sounded like utter nonsense at the time.
But then Emily had discovered Rhoda outside the lady’s retiring room, looking less than pristine… her hair styled differently than it had been earlier and her gown somewhat wrinkled.
But surely, if Rhoda had been involved in a tryst she would have told her, wouldn’t she?
Wouldn’t she?
Of the four of them, Rhoda had always been the most flirtatious. But, no!
“I imagine someone has made something up to spite her, Mother. She’s drawn the ire of a few who were jealous ever since she was courted by St. John. You mustn’t give such gossip any heed.”
Her mother clucked her tongue. “Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. You know that, Emily. If I hear any more of it, mind you, I’ll not allow further association with that family.”
“But—”
“Not if you intend to land a husband. Unless, of course, you’d rather I write that letter after all…”
“You won’t hear anything more,” Emily promised as she stuffed her mending into her sewing basket. “Perhaps you misunderstood.”
Her mother harrumphed as Emily kissed her on the cheek before leaving.
Emily located her sometimes maid, Hettie, to walk with her, and then worried all the way to the park. When she arrived at the edge of the water, Sophia awaited her, along with her small dog, Peaches, but Rhoda hadn’t yet arrived.
“A rumor of some sort is being spread about Rhoda.” Emily didn’t bother with pleasantries but immediately blurted out what her mother had said.
