“And what is the nature of this function?” she asked pleasantly, even as she threatened to boil over.
“It is a charity patronage,” he said, now well and truly unable to look her in the eyes. What was more, she could see him bracing for her rebuttal. “You know the sort, I am sure. It is a lighthearted do, no pressure or expectations attached – it is more about being seen than anything. A chance to be presented before your fellow lords, all of whom are in a similar circumstance to yourself.”
“And what circumstance is that, exactly?”
“Well… you know…” He swallowed. “Single and looking to find a partner. Courtship and then…” He swallowed again. “Marriage, of course.”
Before Lucy said anything else, she made sure to take a deep and calming breath. While the exact nature of his asking to see her had not been known, she had expected something along these lines. And just as she had expected it, she had thought long and hard about how she might extricate herself from such a thing.
If he thinks I am going to be lined up and sold off like cattle… he can think again. He referred to me as a lion earlier, and it is time I prove it.
“A charity patronage?” She spoke calmly and was sure to look at her father as she did. “I have heard of such things but… remind me. The basic premise is that myself, and other available ladies, will be presented before a court of eligible suitors to be appraised, yes?”
“Yes,” he said. “But it is not nearly so precise as –”
“Appraised and judged,” she spoke over him, her tone turned sharp. “Lined up like stock to be looked over, assessed, and then sold off. Reduced to prizes that are not won or earned but bought by the highest bidder. Do I have that right?”
“Lucy…” He grimaced. “It is not nearly so… it is a lighthearted affair. There are no expectations attached. You are not being sent to the gallows!”
“It feels as if I am,” she fired back, her anger getting the better of her. “It feels as if you do not trust that I will find myself a suitor in my own time. That I am not capable of meeting the right man, when the right times presents itself. So worried are you that I will die a spinster that you would rather sell me off. That my happiness means nothing to you.” She flared her nostrils as she looked down at her father. “Do I have the right of it?”
Lucy hated getting angry with her father. And she hated seeing him upset. Alas, both circumstances were present as her father looked away with shame and utmost remorse.
“I am only trying to do what is best for you.”
“I know you are, Father, and while I appreciate it, I would prefer if you trusted me. I do not need to be auctioned off so that I might meet someone.”
“But will you ever?” he asked her. “You continue to tell me that you plan on courtship, and then the Season will pass and nothing comes of it. You see why I worry.”
“I do…” Lucy walked around the table so that she could take her father’s hand. He gave it, looked at her with remorse, and she knew that she had him. “And I promise, Father, you need not worry. Just as you need not resort to such outlandish tactics as this.”
He nodded slowly and she breathed a sigh of relief.That was a little too close for comfort…
“Harold!” From the doorway, the cry came. “What is the meaning of this? I told you that you must wait for me before breaking the news!”
Lady Beatrice Whitcombe was Lucy’s stepmother, and a more repellent woman Lucy did not know. In her mind, Lucy hadalways referred to her as the Harpy, a nickname born from both her physical appearance and how she treated Lucy’s father.
Indeed, she swept into the room with a rueful glare, her beak-like nose pointed down, her sharp chin raised high. And as she came, she reared up as if she meant to swoop upon Lucy and start pecking her to death.
The woman’s sudden entrance had the same effect on Lucy’s father as it always did. He yanked his hand away, sat himself up, and looked upon his wife with a level of infatuation that Lucy could not fathom. He was, in effect, her slave, and oh how her stepmother knew it.
“I planned on it, my sweet,” he purred. “But Lucy arrived early and I thought it might be best if I was the one who asked her –”
“There is no asking.” She went to the other side of Lucy’s father and perched on his shoulder as she glared daggers at Lucy. “We discussed this. She needs to be told.”
“And she has been,” he assured his wife. “I have just done so now.”
Lucy did her best not to glare hate at her stepmother. While she did indeed loathe the woman, she knew too that her father loved her. And while it irked her to be spoken to this way, Lucy did not want to get between them or force her father to choose.
Also, if he was forced to choose there is a part of me fears the choice he would make…
“Father has explained to me the circumstance,” Lucy said carefully. “As I have explained to him that I will not be attending this patronage.”
“Is that right?” her stepmother scoffed.
“It is insulting,” Lucy said. “And demeaning.”
“I do not care what it is,” her stepmother sneered. “You are attending, Lucy, and that is final.”
