Page 14 of How to Start a Scandal

The thing hissed abruptly and tore off, causing Susan to let loose a startled shriek.

‘Good thing you were wearing a bonnet,’ Violet called after the large cat. ‘Or I might have dripped water all over you.’

Small footsteps tapped over the marble entryway. Violet turned towards the sound and was met with the sight of a little girl with blonde hair, large blue eyes and a slightly upturned nose. Violet blinked again.

‘May I help you?’ she asked. ‘Are you lost, perhaps?’

‘I’m Felicity.’ The girl folded her arms over the frilly front of her pink smock. ‘Lady Erstworth’s eldest daughter.’

Lady Erstworth. Violet wanted to clap a hand over her face and groan. Sophie.

‘Oh, yes. Felicity,’ Violet exclaimed with as much brightness as one could when dripping with rain water and having recently tripped over a well-dressed cat. ‘Goodness but it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I scarcely recognised you. Is your mother here?’ Dread shivered along Violet’s damp skin. ‘And your sister and brothers?’

‘Just me.’ Felicity gave Violet an expression that mixed scepticism with blatant irritation.

Only Felicity, then. Thank heavens. Even if she was the worst of the bunch. Being the eldest, she was a ringleader of sorts, encouraging naughty behaviour and revolts.

The girl peered around the corner where the feline had fled. ‘Was that Hedgehog?’

‘It was a cat,’ Violet replied helpfully.

Felicity rolled her eyes. ‘I’m perfectly aware that he’s a cat. His name is Hedgehog.’

Violet pursed her lips. ‘Why ever would you do that?’

‘Do what?’

‘Name a cat Hedgehog.’

Felicity strode across the entryway, her shoes clacking noisily, and peered around the corner. ‘Because his body is grey, but his belly is fat and pink. Like a hedgehog.’

‘Ah, well, when you explain it like that...’ Violet handed Susan the sodden newspaper with an air of apology.

Susan silently wished Violet luck with a look and departed to dispose of the ruined news sheet.

The butler, Wilson, took Susan’s place and collected Violet’s gloves and hat. ‘Lord Hollingston would like to see you in his study, if you please, my lady.’

Violet almost groaned aloud. That was all this day needed. First the meeting with Lord Dalton where she’d acted like a mindless dolt, then nearly running down a poor cat with a rather unfortunate name, followed by the disagreeable meeting with her niece. And now, the squeak seat. Again. For the second time in only one short week.

Violet swallowed her chagrin and nodded in thanks to the butler.

Clothes still damp from being caught in the rain and on the lookout for an errant beast scurrying about the carpet, Violet made her way to her father’s study. He was waiting, his elbows perched on the expansive desk on the opposite side of the tyrannical chair.

She tried to give a happy smile and act as if everything was perfect, which, of course, it wasn’t. ‘Hello, Papa.’

He lifted his eyes at her, his face impassive.

Drat.

His expression didn’t bode well. Her spirits sagged like sails whose wind had suddenly died.

‘Wilson said you wished to see me.’ Violet entered the room and hesitated before the squeak seat.

He gestured for her to sit down. She complied, bracing herself for its protest.

And protest it did, in a grating squawk of irritation and pressure of her ample rump upon its surface.

‘You recall Sophie’s eldest daughter, Felicity?’ Lord Hollingston lifted his bushy brows.