Page 24

Bea did know that. Her chaperone was very fond of listing the favorable marriages she’d arranged before the mistake of taking on a fat country girl like Bea—one whose own mother would have despaired at the challenge of marrying her off, according to Lady Alcon.

Bea had been just a girl when her mother died, but she remembered her very clearly. She had been a famous beauty. It was awful to imagine her mother giving her a pitying or condemning look. Perhaps she would have suggested vinegar diets, the way Lady Alcon did, or dosed Bea with patent medicines guaranteed to melt away at least a stone in weight.

Or maybe she would have loved Bea the way she was.

“Are you telling me that Lady Alcon has returned home?” Given the fear clawing at her stomach, Bea was quite proud that her voice didn’t shake. Her chaperone couldn’t have left her alone. That was … that was illegal or something.

“I informed her that we would find a place for you in our carriage,” Regina said, her smile saying without words that Bea could walk all the way to Cheshire before Regina gave her a seat. “I do believe that Lady Alcon has delusions that my brother might show you some interest, after the exhibit you made of yourself dancing with him.”

The girls all laughed at that idea.

Bea pressed her lips together hard. She would not give Regina the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She could take a hackney home. She had a pound note pinned to her chemise.

“I promised Lady Alcon that you could sit beside him in the carriage … unless you’d prefer to go home with my former fiancé, Lord Peregrine? You could always beg him for a ride.”

A curious silence fell over the room. Bea had the idea that Regina’s friends were not certain what to say about the broken engagement. “I have no interest in Lord Peregrine or the Duke of Lennox,” she stated.

“I suppose you didn’t realize that Lady Alcon was feeling faint.” Regina looked around. “You don’t care about the mess that you’re leaving for the maid. You really don’t care about those that serve you, do you?”

Of course, she did. She did.

“Lady Alcon does not serve me,” Bea said, straightening her back. She always used to stand straight. It was only after she moved to London for the Season that her backbone had grown a curve. Turned into taffy.

She looked at Prudence. “You spilled those crumbs. No, you threw food at me, as if I were a duck on a pond.”

“I’d describe it as throwing food to you,” Regina said brightly. “Prue was showing you a kindness.”

Out of nowhere a flame of courage raced down Bea’s body. “Why are you so interested in my appetite?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “You’ve been jeering at me since the day we met. Why? What did I do to you that you care about me or my hips?”

Regina scoffed, so Bea looked to her retinue: to Martha, whose eyes were expressionless; to Prudence, who looked—perhaps—faintly apologetic; and to Prudence’s twin sister, Petunia, who was blinking confusedly. Petunia wasn’t very bright, but she was so pretty that it didn’t matter.

“You chose me at that very first ball of the Season,” Bea said, looking back over them slowly. They were the four most beautiful girls on the market—diamonds of the first water—or so everyone said. “Why? It wasn’t my fault that I bumped into Regina on the dance floor. My partner was visibly inebriated.”

“We know when someone doesn’t belong among us,” Regina said sharply, her upper lip curling. She wasn’t as beautiful when she did that.

“Why not just leave me be?” Bea said, making her voice as forceful as she could.

Regina tossed her head. “Tell her, Martha.”

“We are in charge of society,” Martha said, her soft voice hiding a nature that seemed as hard as rock. “My mother is one of the patrons of Almack’s. We all know she made a mistake admitting you, but she didn’t realize that you’d try to steal Regina’s fiancé!”

“What are you talking about?” Bea burst out. “You’re sixteen years old. Who made you the guardians of society? Why would you even care whether I’m at Almack’s or not? I had nothing to do with Lady Regina’s broken engagement. I’m not likely to steal any man you’d like to marry.”

They all burst into laughter again. The sound rolled around Bea’s head like the sound of children at play. Cruel children. The kind that torment kittens.

“You? Steal someone whom we’d consider marrying?” Regina could scarcely shape the words through her choking hilarity. “You can try! Well, you have tried, haven’t you?”

Martha was laughing the hardest. “That’s cracked!” she said gaily. “Everyone was amused at the way you looked at the Duke of Lennox as if you fancied him. As if you thought he might fancy you!”

“You really are a dunce,” Prudence taunted.

“I plan to marry the duke,” Petunia declared, “unless Prudence decides she’d rather have him, of course.”

“I must be a dunce,” Bea retorted, “because I don’t understand why you are so cruel, the four of you. You’re all beautiful. But you are not—”

Regina’s hand flashed out, and Bea’s head slammed back against the wall. Stunned, Bea raised a hand to her cheekbone. “Did you strike me?”

“Do you want to know why we’ve decided to cut you from the herd?” Regina demanded. “It’s not because you’re so fat, though God knows, that’s disgusting enough.”