“What are you doing here?” asked Mama, sweeping over to buss her daughter on the cheek. “Your Mr. Voss is on the other side of the green, yet you are standing here.”
Thea didn’t bother reminding the lady that her Mr. Voss was quite capable of coming to her if he wished, but such logic was hardly helpful when speaking with Mrs. Nanette Keats.
“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” said Thea, barely able to contain her wry tone; Frederick was certainly leaving his mark on her.
“Dearest, do not arch your brow so. You risk wrinkles,” said Mama before turning her attention to the gathering. “What is she thinking?”
Following the lady’s gaze, Thea spied Mina seated before Mr. Timothy Voss. “It is an unusual pairing, but he seems keen.”
Mama’s brow furrowed the slightest bit before she relaxed it again (one wouldn’t wish to gain a dreaded wrinkle, afterall). “On the contrary, it is an excellent match for Mina as he is handsome, from a good family, and has a solid future as a barrister. To say nothing of the fact that I heard he inherited quite a sizeable sum after his father’s passing.”
And with that, she glanced at her daughter, but Thea could neither confirm nor deny that gossip. Frederick had said nothing of the sort to her, and even if he had, Mama was not someone with whom Thea would entrust such news. It was harmless enough, she supposed, but it was better to avoid speculation of any sort around the lady.
Reaching forward to squeeze her daughter’s arm, Mama glanced at the plate and added, “I wasn’t referring to her choice in company. Mina will never secure a gentleman’s good opinion if she continues to eat such heaping portions.”
“That is hardly heaping—”
“With her figure, anything above a few bites is heaping,” said Mama with a sigh. “The poor girl is suffering for want of a mother’s care. She’s spoken of her Aunt Matilda, but the lady is clearly derelict in her duties, only concerning herself with marrying off her own daughters rather than properly guiding and chaperoning Mina—though I hear my brother-in-law compensates the lady quite handsomely to fulfill that role. Without my sister around to watch over the poor girl, her figure has been ruined.”
“Her figure is lovely in its own right,” argued Thea. “It may not be fashionable, but she is beautiful and one of the kindest people I have ever known.”
Straightening, Mama’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes. She is a dear. Such a gentle soul. She is positively delightful, and I did not mean to slander her. I simply worry that such an obvious defect can make it impossible to find a husband. Thankfully, she has such a handsome dowry that gentlemen like Mr. Timothy Voss are willing to consider her—”
“Mama,” said Thea, allowing every bit of exasperation to show in her tone, but before she could say another word, Phoebe swept in, bussing her friend on the cheek.
“There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere,” she said before greeting Mama with a curtsy. “Mrs. Keats, a pleasure.”
“It is good to see you, my dear,” said the lady. Taking Phoebe by the hand, Mama examined her. “You do look lovely. Positively delightful. Mourning did not suit you one bit, and it’s monstrous to expect young ladies to wear such dour, unbecoming colors.”
Phoebe brushed a hand down her skirts, which were a lovely shade of yellow that complemented her dark hair perfectly. “Our family does not observe prolonged mourning, and it has been five months since Father’s passing. I doubt he cares one jot what I am wearing, and it seemed the proper time to emerge.”
“Gentlemen are fickle lots, and it would not do to chase them off with mourning clothes,” said Mama with a sage nod. “Those dark, somber colors are hardly enticing.”
Glancing at her friend, Thea waited for one of Phoebe’s subtle jabs at this latest example of Mama’s sage advice.
“Too true,” was all the response she gave.
Barely able to keep from gawking, Thea stared at her friend. “Since when are you concerned about enticing a gentleman? Does this have something to do with Mr. Winwood?”
Phoebe’s expression brightened as though amused, though there was a sharpness to her light tone. “Certainly, Mr. Winwood. He is a fine prospect. But if not him, there are plenty of gentlemen of good standing in town. Have you spied Mr. Hawksworth?”
Frowning, Thea cocked her head and stared at her friend. “No, but why are you looking for him?”
Phoebe laughed—a bright but brittle thing. “I am eager for a dance.”
“You wish to dance with a man whom you dubbed ‘duller than dishwater’ on more than one occasion?” asked Thea.
“Did I?” A flash of pink stole across Phoebe’s cheeks as she glanced about the gathering.
“There is nothing more amusing than fishing for men’s hearts,” said Mama with a sigh. “It is about time that you enjoyed yourself a bit, Miss Voss.”
In a great show of self-restraint, Thea did not point out how often Mama had criticized Phoebe in private for not doing her duty as, being the venerable age of four and twenty, the lady was “getting on in years and needed to secure a husband before she lost her bloom.”
“If only Mr. Godwin wouldn’t pester me so,” murmured Phoebe. “He is making it quite difficult to converse with any gentleman.”
“We simply need to find him another young lady to occupy his attention,” said Mama, glancing out at the gathering.
“Your niece seems to like him well enough,” offered Phoebe with a chuckle.
