Aunt Susan was disappointed as well, but Sybil thought wryly that was less to do with the fact she had a partner at cribbage than the fact Thomas had been paying her maintenance and a pretty sum it had been. Without Sybil, Aunt Susan would go back to surviving on a pittance.
A carriage swept up outside the front door, and Sybil steeled herself. And so it began.
“Sybil, darling,” her mother said expansively as soon as she walked in the door. Her nose wrinkled as she took in the cramped hallway, its darkened wood a herald to another time when things were less bright and airy andexpensivethan they were now.
Sybil bristled at the expression in her mother’s eyes. “Mama,” she said stiffly.
“Lady Averley,” Aunt Susan said, dipping into a curtsy. “I hope I find you well.”
“I’m always well, Susan,” Scarlet said with a sniff, waving her hand. “There’s no need to curtsy, you know. I might be a Marchioness, but that doesn’t mean I’m high and mighty, you know.”
Except,Sybil wanted to say,you don’t care for surroundings like these.
“Will you stay for some tea?” Aunt Susan asked, her eyes large behind her glasses. “We keep a simple fare, you know, but—”
“No, I shouldn’t think that’s necessary,” Scarlet said, glancing across at Sybil, who hadn’t moved. She didn’twantto move. As soon as she moved, she would be forced back to London and back to another Season that she didn’t want to participate in.
Perhaps if she got very lucky, a nice gentleman would propose to her here, without having met her, and she could go to live straight with him after the wedding without having to encounter her mother or Thomas again.
Thomas ducked under the low doorway, irritation plain on his features. “What’s taking so long?” he asked. “I told you we were in a hurry.”
Sybil straightened her spine. “Aunt Susan was good enough to offer us refreshments.”
He barely spared her aunt a glance. “Then we shall have to refuse. Come along, Sybil. The horses aren’t getting any fresher standing around waiting for you.”
Seeing it would be pointless to argue, and that her stepfather’s mouth was hardening into a thin line at every second of silence that passed, Sybil turned to her aunt. “Thank you so much for your kindness this past year,” she said, and her throat tightened with unshed tears. “I shall miss you very much.”
Aunt Susan gave her a rare hug and tightened her arms meaningfully. “You’ll write?” she asked when she pulled away. “And let me know if there’s anything you need?”
“I’ll write,” Sybil promised, but no matter what, she wasn’t going to tell Aunt Susan about whatever terrible things happened in London. Without Thomas sending regular payments, Aunt Susan would never be able to afford to keep her, never mind provide a safe space for Sybil to flee to, if things got too bad. Still, there was always the convent.
Her mother took her arm and all but dragged her out of the door, adjuring one of the boys from the carriage to take her luggage and strap it to the roof. Her grip slackened as they reached the carriage and finally climbed in.
“Now,” she said, beaming at Sybil until she felt sick. “What a wonderful time we shall have.”
Sybil was quite certain she would not. But the whip cracked and the carriage lurched into motion, and there was nothing to do to stop it now. She was going to London.
ChapterSeven
They didn’t even make twenty miles before Sybil’s mother made her first allusion to the best ways to entertain gentlemen.
“You have several assets,” she said, eyeing Sybil’s chest doubtfully—her bosom could not, even under the most generous of terms, be called an ‘asset’.
“Mama,” Sybil hissed, nodding at Thomas, who was asleep with his head rattling against the wall. “Please.”
“Oh, he’s had his fair share of experience, my dear.” Scarlet chuckled, and Sybil wondered how she could be so accepting of her husband’s having been with other women.
Of course, Sybil knew enough about gentlemen to know it was highly likely whoever she married would have dallied with several other ladies prior to meeting her—and perhaps even after, too. Indiscretions were hardly unknown. But she didn’t expect to beblaséabout it.
“You have lovely ankles,” Scarlet continued, looking at Sybil’s feet. “And a trim waist, which you could do a lot to emphasize, my love.”
“I don’twantto emphasize my waist.”
“But you could do so well and look so pretty if you just made a small effort to—”
Sybil swallowed her retort as she tuned her mother out. Most men, she knew, preferred the brazen beauty of her mother, however much or little they approved of her, but one man had spoken aboutheras though she was beautiful. Not just passably pretty, but one of the most glorious women he’d ever seen.
She doubted she would ever meet him again, but the way he had looked at her would live on in her memory.
