“Do whatever you like,” Father said from behind the paper. “But stay away from that Highgate lad. He’s a scoundrel.”
“Again, you’re one to talk.” Mother set down her teacup, braced her elbows on the table, and steepled her fingers, staring at Meg across the dulled wooden surface of the table. “So, you’re willing to go into debt to a duchess on the small chance you might find some man willing to take you on as a burden for life?”
Meg’s gaze reverted to her mother’s eyes. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. Why did her mother hate her so much? “I told you. I intend to repay her.”
Her mother’s sharp crack of laughter filled the room. “Isn’t that what your father says, every time he takes on a new debt? You’re more like him than not, Margaret.”
“I’ve had enough of you for one day, Catherine.” Her father stood, tossed the paper onto the table, and stalked from the room.
Meg watched him go. She didn’t care. The two of them could argue all day as long as they allowed Lucyto continue to help her and be her chaperone. Her father had already provided his permission.
“There are men who might be willing to marry me, Mother. Not everyone puts all their attention on a dowry.”
Mother shrugged one shoulder. “I suppose you’re right. I suppose your father’s name is still good forsomething. Some no-name fool might come sniffing around you after all if the duchess puts enough baubles on you.”
Meg clenched her jaw. She would let that go, too, like all the other insults her mother had heaped upon her over the years.
“I need your permission, Mother,” she said in a tight voice.
Her mother picked up her teacup again and took another sip. “Fine, I’ll allow the duchess to be your so-called chaperone, but don’t come sobbing to me when she tosses you over for another ward with more potential.”
“Thank you,” Meg managed to choke out. She was just about to push back her chair and ask to be excused when another thought struck her. While she was being brave she might as well ask one more question.
“Mother?” she ventured.
Her mother cradled the teacup in her hands. “Yes.”
Meg swallowed. She’d wanted to ask this question for years. She had to blurt it out before she lost her nerve. “What exactly happened between our family and Sarah’s family?”
Her mother’s nostrils were pinched. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Then she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Do youreallywant to know, Margaret?”
“Yes.” Excitement bubbling in her chest, Meg leaned forward, too. Was this really it? Would her mother truly tell her?
“Then ask your useless father.” Mother stood, threw her napkin to her chair, and marched from the room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Lucy, I still don’t understand why you thought it was a good idea to send Hart away last night and allow Sir Winford the dance instead.”
They stood on the sidelines of the Cranberrys’ ball. Meg was dressed in a gorgeous light-green satin gown with cap sleeves and a low V in the back. The gown had embroidered white flowers along the bodice and an empire waist. Lucy’s team of dressmakers had worked all day to invent the gorgeous creation after Meg had sent Lucy a note informing her of her parents’ permission. Meg had reiterated that she insisted upon paying Lucy back one day.
Lucy had purchased Meg a new set of kid gloves and some bright-white satin slippers. The seamstresses had made her an adorable matching reticule with tiny white rosebuds scattered across it. After adding some diamond earbobs and a silver-and-diamond necklace, also borrowed from Lucy, Meg looked and felt like the veriestprincess. She well knew it was all a show, an act staged by Lucy Hunt, but one that appeared to be working.
After her dances last night with Hart’s friends, Meg had become downright sought-after. A steady stream of people stopped to greet her this evening, an occurrence that would have been unheard of last Season. The combination of new gowns and preferred dancing partners had changed her circumstances overnight. Ah, what power a duchess and a viscount wielded. It was truly fascinating.
“Dear, we’ve been over this,” Lucy replied. “If Hart had won the dance, he wouldn’t have had a chance tomissdancing with you, nor would I have had a moment to discuss with him how entirely silly choosing a bride over a dowry is. You must trust me.”
“I do trust you, Lucy, but—”
“You hated to miss a dance with Hart. I completely understand. We must make choices for the good of our cause and not for a moment’s pleasure, however.”
Meg squeezed the diamond earbobs to ensure they remained securely in place. Then she shook her head. “You should have been a general, Lucy. Your talents are completely wasted in the ballroom.”
Lucy smoothed one dark brow. “Derek tells me that quite often. He says Waterloo would have been won before the Prussians arrived if I’d been there. But I disagree with you… my talents are not entirely wasted in the ballroom.”
“No?”
“No. As evidenced by the fact that both Sir Winford and Lord Highgate are on their way toward you. Donotlook!”
