Augusta looked utterly perplexed. “An announcement of what?”
“Why, of your betrothal to Lord Dunham.”
A look of disbelief crossed her face. “You must be jesting,” she blurted out, even though she knew her mother had precious little sense of humor— especially not on the subject of marriage. “I assure you, Mama. Lord Dunham has no intention of legshackling himself to me.”
“Don’t use such horrid cant,” snapped her mother out of habit. Then her brow puckered in distress. “What do you mean? The carriage rides, the marked preference at balls?—”
“They have nothing to do with the earl’s interest in me personally, Mama. We have merely been trying to solve an … intellectual problem.”
“Unnatural child,” she huffed. Disappointment made her mother’s words even harsher. “A chance to attach a man such as Dunham, and you can think of nothing but your silly books and theories? How many times do I have to tell you that men don’t find a bluestocking at all attractive?”
“I’m well aware of that fact,” she answered in a near whisper.
Her mother heaved a grumpy sigh. “Well, maybe it isn’t too late. Maybe the earl has suffered some heavy losses at the gaming table and is desperate for a large dowry. At least you have that.”
Augusta’s eyes pressed closed. “I doubt it would be near enough.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Mama.”
“Hmph.” Her mother started back toward the settee and her tea tray. “Do try to act like a normal female when you are with him. And try not to give him a disgust of you with your odd whims and notions.”
She hung her head. “Yes, Mama,” was about the only answer she could manage.
Why bother informing her parent that it was much too late for that. Why, the moon would turn into a wheel of Stilton before the Earl of Dunham would cast another look at her. With such a lowering thought in mind, she hurried on into the sanctuary of her study and flung her bonnet and reticule aside. Only then, seated at her desk, head buried in her arms, did she allow the bitter tears to flow.
Through the muffled sobs, she didn’t hear the sound of the door opening and closing a short time later. It was not until a gentle touch steadied her quivering shoulders that she was aware of Marianne’s presence in the room.
“Oh, Gus, whatever is wrong?” asked her sister.
Augusta didn’t look up. “Please, Marianne. Right now I just want to be alone.”
Her sister refused to be put off so easily. “Do you? I doubt it. You’ve always been a source of comfort and wisdom to me when I’m upset. Why won’t you let me try to be the same?
“Wisdom! Ha! What a charlatan I am to give advice.” There was a quiver in her voice. “Why, I’m the biggest fool of all, always thinking I have the answer.”
Marianne was tactfully silent as Augusta searched for a handkerchief in her pocket and blew her nose. Then she ventured a tentative smile. “You always say it helps to talk things out in rational manner. And you are usually right. Things never seem quite as dreadful after one does.”
Augusta brushed at her cheek with her sleeve. “Do I really say that? Then I’m more of an idiot than I imagined. What really makes one feel better is falling into a fit of vapors.” Her mouth finally managed to form a rueful grimace. “I have considerably more sympathy for all those brainless heroines who turn into watering pots at the slightest provocation. Perhaps they are onto something.”
Marianne stifled a giggle.
She blew her nose again. “In fact, I think I shall curl up for the rest of the afternoon with one of Mrs. Radcliffe’s horrid novels and thoroughly enjoy all the rantings and weepings.”
“Well, I am glad to see your normal sense of humor reasserting itself.”
“Actually I’m being quite serious.”
There was a moment of silence, then both of them couldn’t repress a soft burst of laughter.
“Dear Gus,” murmured Marianne, giving her sister a quick hug as their voices subsided. “Now out with it. What happened between you and Lord Dunham that has you in such a rare taking?” Seeing that Augusta’s spirits seemed sufficiently recovered, she essayed a bit of teasing. “A lover’s quarrel?”
That was perhaps not the best tack to take. Augusta’s expression immediately lost any glimmer of her usual sense of humor. “Hardly. For that would imply there was any romantic interest in the first place.” She couldn’t repress a ragged sigh. “We did, however, have a certain … friendship, but now I’m afraid I’ve managed to destroy that. He finds me totally repugnant and wants nothing more to do with me,”
“Gus, I’m sure that’s not true. I’m under the distinct impression that Lord Dunham is, er, not adverse to your company.”
“Not true,” answered Augusta. “Last night he called me a stubborn, willful t-t-termagant …” Her voice had begun to quiver.”And that’s not the worst of it. Today he said …” Whatever she was going to say was swallowed in a loud snuffle.
