“It hasn’t changed,” Brixton said. “I will continue to get to know her, and she will see for herself that I am the best choice.”
“Well said.”
“Featherstone is a nuisance,” Brixton grumbled. “I refuse to stand to the side and let Miss Whiston fall prey to his flowery words.”
“Then let us hope that Miss Whiston has some sense.”
Brixton waved over the server and ordered another round of drinks. “I am not worried.”
“No?”
“Miss Whiston is clever, and she won’t give Featherstone any heed.”
“I hope you are right about that.”
Brixton sighed. “I am. At least, I hope I am.”
“You win again,” Marjorie said as she laid her cards down in front of her. “I’m beginning to believe that you are cheating.”
“I am doing no such thing,” Henrietta defended.
“I know, but I find it suspect that you are so good at cards,” Marjorie remarked.
“I used to play with the grooms when I was younger.”
Her mother interjected, “Which was terribly inappropriate of you.”
“We didn’t play for money, if that is your concern,” Henrietta shared. “We just used pebbles to place our bets.”
“I am beginning to think we neglected you terribly,” her mother said as she worked on her needlework.
Henrietta smiled. “I only snuck off to the stables after my work was completed.”
“It would have been preferable if you had spent that time bettering yourself,” her mother remarked.
“You do not need to worry in that regard. Miss Skeffington saw to that,” Henrietta responded. “She was relentless in the work that she assigned.”
Marjorie rose from the table and went to sit down next to their mother. “I would agree. She was an extremely strict governess.”
“Not strict enough, if you ask me,” her mother huffed.
Henrietta shifted in her chair. “Miss Skeffington tried to prevent me from leaving the manor, but I would sneak out of the windows in Father’s study.”
“Was your father complicit in you leaving?” her mother asked.
“Heavens, no,” Henrietta replied. “I would only do so when Father was touring the estate with his steward.”
Her mother lowered her needlework to her lap. “If only you would behave more like your sister.”
Marjorie nodded. “I agree,” she remarked. “If you want to marry, you need to stop acting like a hoyden.”
“There is nothing wrong with how I act,” Henrietta defended.
Rising, her mother said, “I’d better go see if your father has fallen asleep in his favorite chair again.”
After their mother left the room, Marjorie gave Henrietta a questioning look. “I have been meaning to ask you about what transpired in the drawing room earlier today.”
“Can you be more specific?”
