“I do not want to return to Society,” Seth grumbled.
“How else do you plan on increasing membership and meet those new to London?”
“I meet gentlemen at White’s.”
“Not those who have been blackballed,” Jonathan reminded him. “Were they not the very patrons you were hoping to attract because you hated the idea that one voting member, by dropping a black ball into a bag instead of a white one, meant that membership would be denied?”
“It is the reason I do not hold such a practice.”
“Then how can you meet those who wish to be part of your gaming den if you cannot meet them at a similar establishment.”
Blast, his barkeep may be correct, but he would not face Society alone as he had at Lady Heath’s ball and he knew the perfect woman to accompany him.
“Think of your family. Think of your sisters and how your actions may affect them,” Aunt Mae implored.
That is all Miss Frances Hawthorn thought about.
When her Uncle Edmund had become the guardian of Frances, her younger siblings, and a cousin fifteen years ago, he had been quite lost since he had been a bachelor of two and thirty with no intention of marrying. In fact, he had left his nieces to reside in Frances’ family estate for ten years with only a governess and servants while he lived in Yorkshire, the estate inherited by Frances’ brother, Miles, only six-years-old at the time.
Uncle Stuart, the former Earl of Albany, had not been the best decision maker and always looked for the easiest and quickest way to riches. He had also been a fool! Or maybe he just had the worst luck of anyone who had ever lived, but no matter what Uncle Stuart had touched or invested in, it had failed and when he died, he was so far in debt that Uncle Edmund had not been able to recover. In a panic the year Frances was to turn eighteen, he had married a spinster, Lady Mae Wilson.
“Your youngest sister will be brought out next year. How will Society judge Adina when you are not even living with your family, but at a…above Athena’s Salon.”
“The salon takes place in the home where I will be living, and only four nights a week. It is not as if I have taken rooms above a tavern,” she reminded her aunt. “It is a salon for the discussion of arts, sciences and politics and I have the opportunity to earn wages by managing the gaming room.”
Aunt Mae grasped the back of the chair. “This is even worse than I thought.” She fanned herself in a manner that one assumed she might soon have a fit of the vapors. “Employed! Living at the salon! Neither of your sisters will make a good match when you carry on in such a way.”
“I disagree. My association with Her Grace, niece to another duke, can only benefit my family, especially Adina, whom no one has yet met,” Frances argued. Her employer had offered to see that her younger sisters and cousin were introduced to all the best people in Society and receive coveted invitations, all in hope that they’d make successful matches.
“Yes, well, I am certain that His Grace will soon put a stop to his wife’s little hobby and have her concentrate on the business of producing an heir.”
One could do both. From what Frances understood, it did not take so long to go about making an heir, not even an hour, she supposed. Not that she had any experience in such, but she’d overheard enough discussions to know that the act does not take so very long.
“Adina will already have to face speculation with you being eight and twenty, wallflower and spinster.”
“Were you not eight and twenty, also a spinster, when my uncle married you?”
“My circumstances were quite different.”
Aunt Mae likely remained unwed because she was quite restrained and judgmental of others in Society. More so than any gossiping matron that Frances had ever encountered.
“Those other gentlemen only wanted my wealth but tried to convince me that they had tender affection for me when I knew differently. Only your uncle was honest enough to admit the truth when he called on me. He also confessed that he needed my assistance to guide his nieces, which I fully embraced. I think the only reason you are a failure is that when we met you were already eight and ten, no longer influenced while your sisters were thirteen and nine—young enough for me to mold.”
Frances nearly snorted. The only molding that Aunt Mae had accomplished was that her sisters and cousin wanted to be nothing like their aunt.
“Though, I cannot understand why neither Hope nor Bryn have married.”
“I believe they only wish to wed for love.”
“Yes, well, such does not last, even if one is silly enough to believe that it existed in the first place.”
Frances did not argue. She had foolishly believed herself in love once and it had nearly destroyed her soul. Lord Seth Claxton had rejected not only her heart but the friendship they had shared for ten years. She was much wiser now. “Hope and Bryn are intelligent women and can decide their own future without influence of me or anyone else. If they choose to wait for love, then I applaud them. If they decide to settle, it does not matter to me so long as they are happy. And, if they become spinsters, then I certainly will not judge them because life is far too short to suffer through unpleasant circumstances.”
Frances pulled on her gloves, then tied the bow of her bonnet beneath her chin. “I shall be going now. My trunks have been packed and they are loaded onto the carriage and I do not wish to delay my move any longer than necessary.”
Aunt Mae’s grey eyes hardened. She did not approve of Frances and would likely give her the cut direct next Season.
“I do not believe that you can fully appreciate the damage this will do to your sister.”
