None of them even thought to question the reliability of these unimpeachable sources. The Countess of Fosberry had the ear of the Upper Ten Thousand. For all her kindness, her ladyship was an incurable gossip, and never missed a tidbit.
“Shall we see if you all can guess which lady has ruined Lord Boggs’s fondest hopes?”
“Lady Mariana Shelby,” Emmeline said, before any of her sisters could utter a word.
Lady Fosberry clapped, delighted. “Remarkable, Emmeline! Really, you girls are a wonder. I begin to suspect you’re all hiding crystal balls under your beds.”
“There’s not a bit of magic to it,” Phee protested. “It’s simply—”
“Mathematics, or some such nonsense.” Lady Fosberry flapped her hand, as if banishing mathematics from her presence. “Yes, you’ve said so before, Euphemia, and it’s a clever theory, but mathematics teaches us nothing whatsoever about love.”
“It’s not really mathematics, my lady, so much as predictable patterns. As children we do learn from mathematics how to recognize patterns by studying numbers in a sequence, but—”
“People aren’t numbers, Euphemia,” Lady Fosberry interrupted. “I hope you’ll all find out the truth of my words for yourselves, before it’s too late.”
It’s already too late for us.
The words rose unbidden in Emmeline’s mind, but she said only, “Tilly may, one day.”
By the time Tilly was old enough to marry, maybe the ton would have forgiven the Templeton sisters for their mother’s sins.
“You see, my lady, Lord Boggs has previously demonstrated a weakness for a pretty face.” Phee, undeterred by Lady Fosberry’s scold, was warming to her subject. “It only makes sense he’d offer for the prettiest lady this season, because he does so every year. One can anticipate, within reason, his future behavior by his past actions.”
“If it’s as simple as you say, Euphemia, then what is Lord Boggs’s trouble? Why hasn’t he found a willing lady to marry him yet?”
“Lord Boggs’s trouble,” Helena said, “Is that he wants a young lady of both beauty and fortune, but he can’t lure one into marriage because he’s—”
“Not at all handsome. He’s old, very ugly, and unpleasant, too, and Lady Mariana is—”
“Tilly!” Emmeline cried. “Shame on you!”
“Lady Mariana’s father is a viscount, and she’s very pretty,” Tilly went on, ignoring Emmeline. “She needn’t marry a fortune, and Lord Boggs’s only attraction is his fortune. He needs a lady who hasn’t two shillings to rub together.”
“Yes, but he is an earl, Tilly.” Helena tossed the newspaper aside. “Given that the ton only cares about titles and fortunes, one would think Lord Boggs might have whomever he chooses.”
“He doesn’t want just anyone. He wants a belle.” Emmeline thought for a moment. “Miss Crowley would do for him. She’s not a great beauty like Lady Mariana, but she’s pretty, and as poor as a rookeries’ church mouse.”
Juliet helped herself to one of Helena’s teacakes. “Lady Mariana has been holding out for Mr. Mayhew, but the season is half over already, and—”
“And a bird in the hand, you know.” Helena grinned. “For my part, I’d much rather see Lady Mariana with Mr. Mayhew, but Lord Mayhew despises Lord Shelby, and Mr. Mayhew won’t disoblige his uncle, or he’ll be cut off without a shilling.”
“Yes, and that will never do for a gentleman who plays as deep as Mr. Mayhew. There’s another pattern for you, my lady.” Phee turned to Lady Fosberry with a provoking grin. “All the Mayhew men are hardened gamesters, and they all marry fortunes. I predict Mr. Mayhew will offer for Lady Philippa Wingate.”
“I don’t like to see poor Miss Crowley get stuck with Lord Boggs.” Helena let out a little sigh on behalf of poor Miss Crowley. “He’s two decades older than she is!”
“Yes, but it would be an excellent match for her. Not a happy one, but secure, certainly.” Juliet finished her teacake and dusted the crumbs from her fingers. “Don’t you think so, Lady Fosberry?”
“The match has merit from Miss Crowley’s perspective, yes, but I’ve never liked such matches. It seems a shame to condemn such a sweet young lady as Miss Crowley to a lifetime with demanding, ill-tempered Lord Boggs.”
“It’s wrong we should know so much about a gentleman we’ve never met.” Helena wrinkled her nose. “Gossip is a dreadful thing!”
“Dreadful! Why, I think it’s perfectly delightful! But my dears, what do you say to this?” Lady Fosberry paused until she had their full attention. “I have it on the highest authority Lord Melrose intends to marry this season.”
“Lord Melrose! Isn’t he the…what do you call it?” Tilly’s brows drew together. “I can’t remember what one is meant to call a gentleman who’s an Incomparable.”
“The Nonesuch,” Helena said. “One refers to him as the Nonesuch.”
“No, one refers to him as Lord Melrose.” Juliet fell back against the sofa, feigning a swoon.
