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“Nonsense,” Fulvia protested. “Regina abhors Lord Peregrine. She’s spent considerable time trying to talk me out of marrying him. Regina is going to marry an earl.”
“Which one?” her mother inquired.
“The Earl of Eagleton.” Fulvia shrugged. “Apparently, he’s a fortune hunter, but Regina has a huge dowry. She hasn’t told him yet.”
Ella didn’t let herself snort.
“I think she wants Lord Peregrine and his fortune,” the viscountess said.
“You will be well enough for my ball, won’t you, Mother?” Fulvia asked.
Fulvia didn’t mean to be thoughtless, and she did care for her mother, but she was single-minded. Selfish might be another way to describe it.
And there it was, Unkind Thought #6, at least.
“Your mother will be fine,” Mrs. Quimby said stoutly. “I tucked some ginger tea into your reticule, your ladyship. I’d suggest you put away those boned corsets. They won’t do you or the babe any good. I’ll bring over some stays designed for an enlarging belly.”
Ella’s aunt visibly shuddered. “Fulvia, please ask Lady Regina to say nothing of my delicate condition.”
“Certainly, Mother,” Fulvia chirped.
“Neither of you are to breathe a word to the viscount,” her mother added, suddenly looking quite fierce for such a biddable lady. “I shall tell my husband in my own time.”
“Of course,” Ella said, and elbowed Fulvia.
“I gather you haven’t noticed, but neither I nor Ella address my father unless forced to do so,” Fulvia said bluntly.
“Miss Ella, I’ll help you remove your ballgown,” Mrs. Quimby said hastily.
“Don’t you listen to Lord Peregrine when it comes to the bodice,” Mrs. Quimby said, once they were in the dressing room. “That gentleman doesn’t want his friends to admire you as much as he does.”
“Lord Peregrine is betrothed to Fulvia,” Ella reminded her.
Mrs. Quimby snorted. “There’s many a slip between the cup and the lip. I recall the gossip columns going on about his betrothal to Lady Regina last year. I’d say your aunt is right about her ambitions to take Lord Peregrine back. The way she looks at him is as avaricious as a miser at Sunday collection.”
Ella suddenly remembered Lord Peregrine’s nasty comparison of Regina’s bosom to a gravestone. Perhaps that explained why Regina seemed so outraged by Ella’s low-cut bodice.
“Are you certain that I shouldn’t wear a corset, one that might disguise my bosom?” she asked, trying to quell another flicker of nervousness.
“Absolutely not! You are irresistible, but it’s not just your breasts. It’s the whole of you, from your hair to your face to your figure. Lord Peregrine won’t be the only man standing stock still, as if he’d been pole-axed. Your aunt is right. I wouldn’t want Lord Peregrine to go traipsing off with Lady Regina. I wouldn’t put it past that lady to compromise him.”
Ella felt a stab of uneasiness. Why had Regina made such good friends with Fulvia? Perhaps she did have ulterior motives. Perhaps Regina planned to seduce him into another proposal.
It would be horrible to live with the knowledge that one had had a chance to marry a man like him, but had let it pass. He was irresistible. Ella considered herself invulnerable to cajoling gentlemen, but she kept finding herself smiling at Peregrine as if he were a friend.
Of course, as family, they could be friends. She tried to imagine Sunday dinners, with his lordship at one end of the table and Fulvia at the other.
With an abrupt clench in her gut, Ella realized that she would have to hide in the attic during those dinners. Or be elsewhere, at a table of her own.
Fulvia was right.
Ella had to marry, be he a grocer or a duke.
She needed to find a husband before she saw Fulvia holding a baby with a shock of Lord Peregrine’s dark hair.
CHAPTER NINE
LORD PEREGRINE’S INDECISION … AND A DECISION
