I'll make Mama proud this time around. I'll win Viscount Portland and the ton's approval. And I'll find a way to free Paul from Hunt's clutches, if it's the last thing I do.
* * *
Percy and Charity made their way up the picturesque knoll away from the rest of their group. As usual, White Conduit Fields teemed with middling class folk escaping the confines of Town. The pastoral grounds offered rolling green hills and paved walks as well as tea rooms overlooking colorful gardens. Cheerful shouts rose from the cricket grounds, where matches played endlessly. Ahead of the two girls, Fitzwell jogged along the grassy ridge, stopping now and again to sniff at a wildflower.
"They hate me," Percy said in despair.
"No, they don't." With her severe, ash-brown topknot and straight brows, Charity projected a somber demeanor. Yet up close, her moss-colored eyes shone with sympathy, dominating her small, angular face. "The girls just don't know how to treat you now that you're no longer one of them."
"Have I grown horns? Sprouted another head?" From the way the others had subtly avoided her or grown quiet when she came near, Percy had felt like some unwanted, alien creature. "I'm stillme, aren't I?"
"Yes, but now you circulate amongst theton. For many of our sort, your situation would be considered a dream come true," Charity said matter-of-factly.
"A nightmare more the like," Percy wailed. "Now I don't fit inanywhere."
At least before she'd had a place with her former classmates whose families had also gained their wealth through trade or other professions. Girls like them occupiedterra novaas far as society was concerned: no one knew what to make of them. Rich and privileged, they had difficulty finding suitable matches within the working class. At the same time, their origins in "shop" prevented them from marrying up.
"Fitting in hasn't exactly been your forte, has it?" Charity said mildly. "Why the concern over it now?"
Given that Charity had stood by her through her countless antics at Mrs. Southbridge's, Percy did not fault the other's honesty. In fact, she admired her friend's steady, sensible temperament—and wished some of it might rub off on her.
"Because Mama thinks I'm a wicked girl. She's… ashamed of me," Percy whispered.
"Pish posh. Mrs. Fines only wants the best for you. Indeed, you should count yourself lucky to have a mama to give you guidance."
Charity's wistful tone reminded Percy that her friend had grown up without a mother, Mrs. Sparkler having succumbed to a difficult childbirth. Feeling even more wretched due to her own relatively minor complaint, Percy mumbled, "Well, when I win Viscount Portland's affections, I'll show everyone. And I shan't be a snob about it, either. I'll invite all the other girls to my wedding."
"An invitation that will no doubt turn them green with envy."
Percy aimed a rueful look at her friend. "I suppose that would be small of me?"
"Human of you," Charity said. Linking a slender arm through Percy's, she asked, "How are things progressing with his lordship, by the by?"
The image of Lord Charles' rich auburn curls and dreamy grey eyes rose in her mind's eye, accompanied by an effervescent feeling in her breast. Out of nowhere, another visage popped into her head. Her giddiness gave way to alarm at the flash of harsh, scarred features.
"Percy, dear, are you alright?"
She jerked her attention back to her friend. "Yes. I'm fine."
"And what about Portland?" Charity said, giving her an odd look.
"As you know, I've had other matters to deal with." Percy pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Dear God, why am I even bothered by those silly chits when Paul is in danger? It's been three days since I saw Hunt. Time is running out,"—Percy bit her lip—"and I still don't know what to do."
"I've thought it over. I believe there is only one proper course of action," Charity said.
"Yes?" Percy said hopefully.
"You must write your mama and the Marquess of Harteford. Once they know about Mr. Fines' situation, I am certain they will return home with due haste and take care of the matter."
Percy frowned. "I already told you. I promised my brother I wouldn't tell the family. He doesn't want word getting out of his troubles."
"You haven't much choice," her friend pointed out. "You already tried taking matters into your own hands, and look how that turned out. You are lucky that nothing worse happened."
Sometimes Charity could be a bittoosensible. Which was why Percy hadn't consulted her prior to meeting Hunt—she'd known her friend would disapprove.
"I knew what I was doing," she said, kicking at a rock in her path. "I could have handled Hunt. In fact, I have half a mind to take the wager—"
"Oh no, you don't." Charity braced her hands on her thin hips. Beneath the brim of her plain bonnet, her brows lowered, and she gave Percy a stern look. "That is precisely the kind of thinking that led to all those scrapes at Mrs. Southbridge's. Remember the time you snuck out of class to see the gypsy caravan, and I had to make all those excuses for you?"
