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“Withington’s family is playing host to a young composer by the name of Gallopy or some such, and they’re holding a small party next week to show him off.”
Amelia’s eyes lit. “Signor Galuppi. Yes. He’s written several wonderful operas.”
“I’m sure,” her father grumbled. “Anyway, Withington has invited Victoria. Cavendish is also attending and has asked permission to take you, Amelia.”
“Excellent,” replied Amelia.
Victoria chewed on her own liver in silence for the remainder of the journey home.
Upon arriving, Amelia immediately went to her room and shut her door, locking it. Victoria got no response whatsoever when she attempted to gain entrance. She wanted to pound it down with her fists and demand answers; but she dare not, lest Papa begin asking difficult questions. She briefly entertained the idea of slipping a note beneath her door, but it was far too risky to arm Amelia with written evidence.
All she could do was wait until tomorrow.
But Amelia was just as silent the following day. And the next. When she wasn’t locked in her room, she was at Papa’s side.
Victoria continued in frustration until the dreaded day arrived. Deprived of sleep, she grimly waited for the axe to fall. She toyed with claiming illness; however, that would not only be an act of cowardice, but extremely unwise. Leaving Amelia alone with either man would be asking for disaster.
When the day arrived, Victoria dressed and trudged downstairs.
“You look positively lovely,” cooed Amelia while making a point of showing off her gown, a lovely pink silk affair cut in the very latest fashion.
“As do you, but then you always look like an angel,” Victoria replied in an equally saccharine tone. Her own gown was, as usual, disappointingly modest—even for an afternoon event. Papa had not agreed to getting her clothing altered, despite the fact that she was now officially on her way off the shelf. “Let us hope our gentlemen find us as attractive as we find ourselves.” She smirked as Amelia’s smile vanished.
Their father turned with a frown. “Pride is a grave sin, Victoria.”
“Yes, Papa. I was only jesting.”
“You ought to take better care with your speech, lest you give the impression of vanity. A humble heart is a priceless pearl, and it holds far more sway than outward beauty.”
Amelia pursed her lips, and Victoria knew she was smothering a nasty snicker.
It was going to be a long day.
Upon their arrival at Pembroke, Amelia went into full battle mode, greeting Withington with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm while pract
ically ignoring Cavendish. It was the same old routine: the flirting eyes, the coy smiles, the oh-so-innocent double entendres. Her sister did everything short of stripping naked and dancing before her mark.
She who laughs last, thought Victoria, hiding a smirk as Amelia showed off her knowledge of music. Her trap was working perfectly. And now it was time to sweeten the bait. Stepping forward, she slipped her arm beneath Withington’s, forcing him to look down at her. “Amelia’s knowledge is far greater than mine, yet my enjoyment of the entertainment will be no less, despite my lack of musicianship.”
“I’m sure you have other talents that more than make up for it, my lady,” he answered, the naughty twinkle in his eye surprising her. “Please allow me to show you Pembroke before the event begins. I think you’ll find it quite lovely, especially the gardens.”
To Victoria’s great amusement, Amelia looked on the verge of a perfect frothing fit as he led her away. Her good mood was only temporary, however. As soon as they were alone, she rounded on Withington. “What in heaven’s name possessed you to ask my father to court me? And why the devil is Cavendish courting my sister?”
He took a step backward, but she continued to advance until his back was against the wall.
“Julius made me do it!” he blurted, trying unsuccessfully to edge to one side. “It was the only way he could see you.”
“What?”
He held a finger to his lips. “Shh! People will hear you! Remember how you asked me to help you distract your sister at the ball? Well, he’s decided to keep that strategy in place. He’s managed to convince her that he’s on her side against my seeing you. I’m to pretend that I’m trying to seduce you. Eventually, he will be ‘forced’ to intervene and—”
“Become my savior,” she finished for him. Now it all made sense. By Jove, her plan had worked—albeit by an entirely different means than anticipated, but still. Much to her amazement, she felt a twinge of concern for her sibling. “And once Cavendish ‘rescues’ me from your wicked clutches, where does that leave Amelia?”
Withington flushed. “I thought that perhaps by the time you and he were ready to announce your intentions, she might see me…differently. After all, if I am going to be stuck with her while you two get to know each other, I might as well try to do the same.”
She blinked, incredulous. “With Amelia? Are you mad?”
His cheeks grew brighter. “She is intelligent, charming, and—”
