The sisters were complete opposites.
Fenella wished for the hundredth time that she was not the eldest. She wished for the millionth time that she’d been born a male. But life was never fair, and women must make the most of what was given them. So she would. A smile turned up her lips.
“What’s going on in that lovely head of yours?” asked Rose. Her eyes narrowed as she wound two plaits of Fenella’s hair over and then under a perfect chignon. “It’s a scheme for certain. I’ve seen that glint in your eyes too many times.”
Yes, she had. Rose was seven years older and had been with her since Fenella’s tenth birthday. The maid’s family had come from France during the Revolution. When Rose’s father had died, she and her mother been left destitute. She’d become a trusted confidante and loyal friend. “If I can appear to engage an eligible bachelor or two, then Mother cannot be angry when they are not interested. So, I need to find out what each possible suitor dislikes in a woman and be sure to exhibit that quality.”
“I thought you promised Lady Franklin that you wouldn’t talk of politics or accounts while in Town. And what of your poor sister?” She clucked her tongue and threaded a thin, pale green ribbon through Fenella’s thick tresses. “She cannot accept any man’s advances until you are married. It was your mother’s condition when she agreed to her come-out this season.”
“Evie is the epitome of what every titled gentleman wants in a wife. She’d be married already if Mother would allow it.” She grinned. “On the other matter, there are ways to annoy a man and induce a quick escape. And you’ve been of great assistance in providing me with one more.”
“And I thought you truly wanted to be seductive. Recompense has sharp teeth, and your cleverness may bite you back one day.” Rose shook her head. “There is nothing wrong with men or marriage.”
“I don’t dislike the idea of marriage. I just don’t think I could trust a man to be sincere… about me.” Fenella leaned her head back against Rose’s stomach, and the woman’s hand moved to cradle her mistress’ face. With a sigh, Fenella moved her cheek into the maid’s palm. “I made such a fool of myself over that viscount last season. I would rather die than be the object of ridicule again.”
“He was vicious, and your father took care of him. He’s one foul trout in a stream of many. Don’t mistrust his whole gender.” Rose waved the hairbrush at the mirror as she locked eyes with her mistress. “It should give you more than a little satisfaction to be balancing the ledgers for his estate now.”
She nodded. It was bittersweet. Shelton’s father had been furious. Though a minor estate, it had previously been the family seat bequeathed by Henry VIII. The viscount had been married off to a wealthy heiress thought to be on the shelf, then sent packing to the country. His father had made sure he wouldn’t be admitted anywhere in London if he showed his face. Anywhere respectable.
“If my mother knew what happened, she’d be horrified. And find some way to blame me for the catastrophe.”
“I don’t think you always give your mother a fair shake. Lady Franklin does love you. But I agree her actions can make her appear shallow.”
“That’s a kind way to say it.” Fenella smiled at the maid’s reflection. “Thank you, dear Rose. Thank you for always being here for me and not judging me.”
“Gah! I love you like my own sister.” She patted Fenella’s cheek and sniffed. “And I need to see you settled, so I can think about my future. I can’t leave you to the wolves—or Lady Franklin.”
*
Fenella leaned against one of the tall white pillars of Almack’s and scanned the crowd for her mother. She spotted Lady Franklin under the musicians’ balcony, ingratiating herself to one the establishment’s patronesses. With any luck, Fenella would be able to fend off the last two bachelors in the room who might be persuaded to speak with her. Gems and paste crystals glittered and shimmered under the glow from the gaslit chandeliers. A young baron with sallow skin, dull eyes, and thin lips approached, his diamond pin winking in his foppish, intricate cravat. Here comes one of the said gentlemen now.
“Miss Franklin,” Lord Brooks murmured with a bow, “may I have the next dance?”
When he straightened, his eye level was even with her nose. The thought of standing partner with this poppinjay for the next thirty minutes sent her stomach plummeting. She studied his serious demeanor and stiff frame and judged his displeasure. Her lips twitched as she looked down at him. Oh, this would be fun.
“Oh, sir,” she cried breathlessly, “I would be honored. But I’m afraid I’m parched and waiting on refreshment.” She licked her lips, her tongue circling the entire top of her upper lip and working down to her bottom one. She hitched one shoulder forward and smiled overly bright, her mouth glistening. “Perhaps you could come back after the next set?”
The look of horror on the young man’s face was uproarious. She bit back the laughter bubbling in her throat. Her teeth scraped her bottom lip, as if trying to remove the last of her supper from one corner. It seemed to be the last straw for the baron. She’d judged him correctly. Any intelligent talk might have intrigued him, unlike the earl before him – whose eyes had glazed over at her detailed summary of Homer’s Odyssey.
“I-I may be leaving early,” the baron stammered as he took flight.
Over his retreating shoulder, she saw her mother approach, the slanted deep brown eyes and pinched mouth indicating her extreme displeasure.
Drat! She was in trouble, now. Fenella looked right, then left, hoping for escape. Evie appeared by her side.
“I’ll intercept her for you, but what in petunias were you thinking?” asked her sister, cheeks flushed becomingly. “You looked like Nora the cow when we put honey on her lips.”
Fenella laughed. “I’d forgotten all about that. Well, good. It had the desired effect, then.” She picked up her skirt and made a dash for the refreshment table.
“I’ll find a way for you to settle this debt,” she heard Evie say good-naturedly, blocking Lady Franklin’s path to her oldest daughter. “Mother, why is your face so mottled? Gracious, let’s get you outside for some fresh air. It’s stifling in here!”
Fenella blew out a breath as her mother and sister both moved in the opposite direction. A reprieve until they were all trapped in the coach together. She carefully avoided eye contact, studying the pale red roses embroidered on the hem of her Pomona dress.
“Absolutely divine. In fact, I’d say the most stunning female in the place.”
Fenella’s head jerked up to see the profile of a dark, handsome man next to her.
“Pardon me?” He couldn’t possibly be speaking to her. His eyes were on…
She followed his line of sight. Evie. “Are you speaking of my sister, sir?” Should she be outraged? Who was he?
“If your sister is that exquisite creature in the blossom gown that matches her pink cheeks to perfection, then yes. I’m speaking of your sister.” He turned his attention on Fenella, and she was struck by a devastatingly inviting smile framed by a mustache and well-trimmed beard. She thought of a gentleman pirate.