“We are not friends, you and I,” Imogene said. “So let us not pretend.”
“No,” agreed Miss Trelayne, “we most certainly are not. I would never remain friends with someone whose regard for me is so very low. However, I’ve not come to be your friend. I’ve come to help you and your sister realize your own best potential for life in society and life in general.”
“Just to be clear,” said Imogene. “Uncle Ian ispayingyou to do this. You’ve come herefor money. So let us also not pretend that there is some higher calling.”
“Yes, the duke is paying my salary. However, it is my pleasure to work with you.”
“You must need money very bad indeed,” said Imogene.
“And why is that?”
“Because we are terrible,” said Imogene, her tone enigmatic. Ian did not know if she was testing, or joking, or proclaiming.
“Terribleis a relative term, Imogene,” said Miss Trelayne, “and I’m sorry to say that I do not find you terrible.”
“Yet,” provided Imogene.
“The truth is,” said Miss Trelayne, “you could be terrible, or I could be terrible, or we could both choose to be perfectly pleasant. And why not? Time spent in London... a new wardrobe... the Season... a debut ball. How very fortunate you are that your uncle will provide all of these for you.”
“And how very fortunate that you are being paid to prevent us from embarrassing him.”
“Imogene,” breathed Ian, feeling defeat deep in his bones.
Miss Trelayne forged ahead. “In fact I am fortunate. The money I will earn from this job is very important to me.”
“You are destitute?” Imogene guessed, sounding hopeful.
“Oh no,” said Miss Trelayne, unruffled, “I live comfortably in the home of my sister and her husband, as I’ve said. But I have plans for the future which involve relocating into a respectable flat of my own.”
“Is your sister your twin?” This came from Ivy, her voice small and whispery.
“In fact she is not, Ivy. Ana is my younger sister by several years. I live with her out of necessity, actually. I am unmarried—but also estranged from our mother.”
“And now you aim for estrangement from your sister aswell?” calculated Imogene. “Perhaps it is your goal for everyone to hate you.”
“Hate? No. Estrangement? Also no. But if you want the real answer—and something tells me that you appreciate the real answer in all things, Imogene—my sister and I do not get on. Our girlhood was contentious and no one in our life stepped in to force us to make peace. It was horribly unpleasant. However, I’ve grown up, I’ve changed in a myriad of ways. Bickering no longer appeals to me, but she cannot see past it. I cannot blame her entirely, she is an unhappy woman. She and her husband, Lord Madewood, quarrel almost every day, miserably—sometimes violently. The situation is uncomfortable for me on the best day and hazardous on the worst. And that is why I require the money from this job, not to mention any jobs that come next. Tomove on.”
“You dislike contention?” asked Imogene, sounding inspired.
“That is not a challenge,” said Miss Trelayne quickly. Her fork was halfway to her mouth. Her face took on a contemplative look. She set the fork down.
Looking to Ian, she said, “Your Grace, can I impose on you to leave the table for just five minutes, so I might speak to the girls alone?”
“Go?” asked Ian. Coward that he was, he’d wanted to leave the table since the meal began. But now things were just getting interesting. He wanted to know more about her bickering sister and her estranged mother. Perhaps they shared a wretched childhood in common.
“If you don’t mind?” asked Miss Trelayne. “It’s terribly rude, I know, with your supper growing cold on your plate. But I’d like to say something very private to the girls, and I think perhaps it might be easier to ask you to leave rather than the three of us.”
“Yes, of course,” said Ian, pushing back. He stood at the head of the table, uncertain.
“Just five minutes?” she pressed. Her expression somehow saidtrust me, andthis is important, andI am a professional.
Again, Ian felt himself relax. He no longer wanted to flee the room, but he did want to be useful, to make things easier.
With a nod and a rap to the table, he quit the room.
Chapter Eight
Drewsmina Trelayne’s Rule of Style and Comportment #10: In a battle for hearts and minds, a level head and generous spirit win every time. Embody calmness. Approach with a humble heart.
