“Yes, I recall. I daresay you’re mad to discover what’s going on behind it, but I won’t tell you. You’ll have to find out. Now, enough chit-chat, I think.”
“You aren’t going, are you, sister?” Harriet said, managing to look relieved and doleful at the same time. Florence snorted.
“No, I am not going. Not yet. Now, I came here for a reason. Generally, I don’t come to London for the Season, but this year I find myself looking for a little excitement. I plan to stay a month or two. I know we move in different circles, sister, but one can always make time for family.”
A flicker of hope crossed Harriet’s face. “How delightful! If you find yourself in need of company, I’m sure that Scarlett would love to spend some time with you.”
In Abigail’s opinion, Scarlett would love no such thing. She could see her younger sister’s chagrin, imagining accompanying her large, outspoken, and brusque aunt to various gatherings.
However, she would be a fool to ignore the fact that she would beableto attend such soirees, if Aunt Florence escorted her. Balls with earls and viscounts and maybe even a duke or two.
If Aunt Florence chose to extend her patronage to Scarlett, she could do a great deal of good.
“Funny you should mention it,” Aunt Florence said slowly, pouring herself another cup of tea without waiting for the maid. “I did intend to take my niece to an upcoming soiree. It’s a yearly thing, the Dowager Duchess of Dunleigh’s summer ball. Everybody goes, you know.”
Oh, they did not. Abigail held her breath, glancing between the faces of her mother and sister. Their eyes were wide, jaws hanging slack. The Duchess of Dunleigh – or rather, the Dowager Duchess, as the old duke was dead and his son wore his title now – moved in the highest circles in the land, far above what the Atwaters could hope for. Oh, they might get invited to larger gatherings with the richest tradespeople, and Harriet often talked of vouchers for Almack’s, but that wasn’t the same.
But if Aunt Florence could bring them to a gathering like this, who knew where it might end? What friends might they make?
“Oh?” Harriet managed at last, trying to conceal her excitement. “How thrilling.”
“With your permission, of course, I shall take my niece with me. She can dance a little, if she chooses, and perhaps make some friends. It shall be good for her.”
And then Aunt Florence’s gaze flitted over to Abigail, before the others could say a word, and Abigail’s heart sank. Aunt Florence smiled.
“Well, Abby? What do you say? Would you like to come with me?”
There was a moment of consternation. Scarlett sagged, disappointed, and Harriet hummed and hawed, trying to find her footing.
“Sister, surely you mean Scarlett? Surely you intend to take Scarlett to the ball?”
Aunt Florence lifted an eyebrow. “Did I say Scarlett? No, I thought Abigail might enjoy it. I’m sure you have plenty of balls and good things lined up for our pretty Scarlett.”
Harriet smiled weakly. “Yes, but consider the advantages…”
“Scarlett has plenty of advantages,” Aunt Florence interrupted. “She’s a beautiful girl, with a decent dowry, sufficient charm, and a great deal of confidence. She will be fine, I promise you. It is Abigail I’d like to bring to that ball, and I believe I can choose my own guests, dear sister.”
Harriet swallowed hard. Abigail could read the thoughts ticking across her mother’s face. Her annoyance and pride would have her storm out and tell her sister that she would take Scarlett or she would take neither of the girls.
But Harriet Atwater was too sensible for that. She likely knew that Aunt Florence would simply shrug and leave, and then none of the Atwater girls would attend the illustrious gathering.
Abigail glanced over at her younger sister, who was glaring at her with loathing. As if Abigail herself had somehow done something to take Scarlett’s rightful place from her.
Don’t be angry at me!Abigail wanted to scream.I don’t want to go!
She did not say such a thing, of course. She stayed quiet, hands folded in her lap, and waited for her mother to speak.
“Well, I suppose,” Harriet managed ungraciously. “Scarlett would make a much better companion, but if you insist upon Abigail…”
“I do,” Aunt Florence said, abruptly rising to her feet. They stood awkwardly too, missing a beat. “Abby and I can talk about Mrs. Radcliffe on the way there.”
“What a treat for you, Abigail,” Harriet said, a threatening undertone in her voice. “You must be very grateful to your aunt.”
Abigail made a quick, lopsided curtsey. “Indeed, I am, Mama. Thank you, Aunt Florence.”
Aunt Florence only gave that mysterious little smile, looking away.
“I shall give you more details soon enough. I think a new dress for the occasion would be in order, don’t you, sister? Can you manage that, or shall I…”
