Young, with delicate features, rosebud lips, and a waist corseted to a size that made Sadie wince, Abigail was physically the woman who should catch the baron’s eye. Yet he had barely glanced at her, and when his attention was forced to turn her direction Sadie could have sworn he’d rolled his eyes.
She didn’t blame him, but was somewhat surprised that he had looked past Abigail’s beauty long enough to care about her personality.
Then again, all five of the ladies his mother had invited were beautiful in their own way. Sadie felt rather drab in comparison, even in the exquisite dress she was borrowing from the dowager. Usually, she didn’t mind being unremarkable. It saved her a great deal of trouble. But in Marstede Manor, she felt rather like a peahen surrounded by peacocks, which was a truly ridiculous comparison, she admitted, but that didn’t change the facts.
Jane and Abigail both had golden hair. Helen’s and Lenora’s locks were inky black. Even Beatrice, who was also a brunette, had chestnut hair. Then there was Sadie. Her hair wasn’t so much brown as it simply wasn’t blond. Muddy blond. Pale brown. No one would compare any part of Sadie to precious metals, or gems, or, well, anything, in a poem.
Abigail had probably been described entirely with materials too expensive for Sadie to have ever handled in multiple sonnets.
“I’d never betray a confidence.” Even her voice deserved dedicated odes, sweet and just a little breathy.
But her thoughts were anything but sweet.I need to know how to win. I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to competing for the title of baroness. I should be a princess. A duchess, at least!
“Yes, my lady, we can keep a secret,” Lenora added.If I know what is coming, I can practice.
After less than a half hour’s acquaintance, Sadie already knew Abigail and Lenora were the most ambitious about winning Nicholas over. Jane, she thought, hadn’t made up her mind. Then there were Helen and Beatrice, the two near her age of twenty-seven, who guarded their thoughts even better than Madeleine. Yet neither seemed eager, Sadie could say that much.
“It wouldn’t be fair for me to tell you five now, when Jane isn’t with us,” Madeleine answered. “But this evening I will privately answer one question from each of you, so think carefully about what you want to ask.”
With that, the dowager left the room.
“We should coordinate our questions.” Lenora suggested.
“If you have a question you’d like me to ask for you, I will,” Helen offered, her voice soft. “I don’t think I have a question of my own.”
“The most logical course would be for us to pool our knowledge beforehand, then determine what questions to ask,” Beatrice added. “However, if we all share our answers, then no one will have an advantage, which rather defeats the purpose of being allowed one private question.”
Lenora frowned. “Lady Marstede said this isn’t supposed to be a competition.”
Sadie had controlled herself when Madeline had said that, but this time she failed to stop herself from snorting. Everyone looked at her. “Oh, come on, how can this be anything but a competition? There are six of us and only one baron.”
Whether it was possible for any of the ladies to win the competition was a separate matter.
“Exactly.” Abigail’s chin rose. “I refuse to squander my advantage by sharing my question with anyone.”What should Iask? I need to win the baron’s favor. I don’t have enough time to seduce a different lord.
Sadie filed away Abigail’s thoughts, a hint of guilt for listening lodging in her stomach like a stone in the heel of her shoe. She wasn’t sure if it was better that she had no intention to use what she heard to “win” or if it made it even worse that she had no reason not to attempt to block her magic from picking up those surface thoughts.
Too late to change her mind about allowing the information to trickle in now. Without at least a touch of liquid to carry her own power, the only way she could make her amulet function would be to trace the glyph nonstop. Perhaps she should stop wearing it at her throat, so she could keep it hidden in a pocket. The risk of it falling out—getting lost or having the wrong side seen by someone else—was too great, though.
No one looked twice at the protection charm around her neck, assuming that the glyph they saw was all there was to it.
“I think her ladyship wanted us to cooperate.” Helen’s ebony brows drew together. “It is true that only one of us can marry Lord Marstede, but that doesn’t mean we must be enemies.”
“It’s a test,” Beatrice exclaimed.
“But I haven’t studied.” Lenora’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t know I was supposed to study anything!”
“Not that kind of test. A test to see what type of people we are. Kind,” Beatrice looked from Lenora to Abigail, “or selfish?”
“Or perhaps it is a test to see how committed we are to becoming the next Baroness of Marstede.” Abigail huffed. “Or how intelligent our questions are.”
Sadie wouldn’t put it past Madeleine to test her guests, though in this case she suspected the dowager’s own motivations were two-fold. First to get a sense of each woman’s personality based on what they deemed important enough to ask, and second to actually give them all a chance to learn somethingabout the lord of the manor, who didn’t seem inclined to share his likes and dislikes.
Since Sadie didn’t need to know such things about Nicholas, she figured it wouldn’t help to cooperate with Lenora. “What questions should we ask, then?”
“Not while she is in the room,” Beatrice said with a glare directed at Abigail. “If she doesn’t want to work with us, then she shouldn’t benefit from hearing us brainstorm questions.”
“I don’t need to hear your stupid questions.” Abigail rose, lifted her nose higher than could possibly be comfortable, and flounced out of the room.
