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“Gentlemen don’t want ladies to display an overabundance of intelligence, or to appear as though they believe themselves to possess a superior intellect.”
“But Mama—”
“We made a bargain, Beatrice. I upheld my end and suffered all alone in London with none of my three children for company for months while you scribbled to your heart’s content in that moldy old library in Cornwall. Now it’s your turn to follow a few easy rules.”
“Very well, Mama. I shall refrain from all intelligent conversation.” That wouldn’t be difficult given the paucity of intellect among the bucks of London.
“And you must dance with at least seven eligible gentlemen per ball.”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “Five. I’ll dance with no more than five gentlemen.”
“Six.”
She and her mother locked eyes. “Five,” said Beatrice.
Her mother nodded. “Five, then.” Which was probably the number she’d wanted in the first place. “But you’ll give the first dance to a gentleman of my choosing.”
“Do you have a gentleman in mind?”
“I might have.” Her lips curved into a beaming smile. “I have it on good authority that a certain handsome earl might finally be ready to tie the knot.”
Beatrice flipped through London’s eligible earls in the picture book of her mind. None of them were particularly handsome... except... “You want me to marry Mayhew?”
Her mother’s smile widened. “You’ve always been such a clever girl.”
“I thought he was promised to Lady Millicent.” At the mention of her name, Beatrice’s throat constricted.
She’d known Lady Millicent since finishing school. Lovely and gregarious with honey-colored ringlets and emerald eyes, Millicent had decided that silent, bookish Beatrice had “airs” and thought that she was above everyone else. Because of this perceived fault, she’d made Beatrice’s life miserable with her taunts, tricks, and derogatory nicknames.
You’re beastly inside and out.
Beastly Beatrice.
“Not promised, precisely,” said her mother. “No papers were signed. The families have close ties, but there’s still hope that he might make a differentchoice. He’s kept everyone guessing long enough. He’s made some bad investments lately and his coffers need filling.”
“If he’s joined the ranks of genteel impoverishment, he’ll be after my dowry.”
“Not impoverished, only not so well off that he can afford to keep all of his properties. Economies have been made, and his mother and sisters haven’t taken kindly to them. If you follow my rules, your reward could very well be a proposal.”
Ohjoy of joys.A proposal from a man who saw her as a moneybag with arms and legs, if he saw her at all.
Whenever Mayhew spoke to her, his eyes were always searching the room as if looking for someone more worthy to bestow his attentions upon.
All the eligible gentlemen of London desired was her dowry, and she wasn’t about to hand it over to them in exchange for a lifetime of humiliation and unfulfilled dreams.
“That’s four rules,” she pointed out. “Am I finished now?”
The dressmaker was consulting with one of her assistants about ribbon choices. She seemed to be nearing the end of her ministrations.
“I just thought of another. Rule number five—you must avoid the company of wallflowers. Their society can only diminish your luster.”
Beatrice gave a short laugh. “You do know that I’m considered to be a wallflower?”
“You won’t be when I’m finished with you,” said her mother with grim determination. “Your wardrobe will be the envy of every lady in London.”
Beatrice had never understood what all the fuss was about. Her mother and her mother’s friends discussed hairstyles and gown designs for hours on end. To Beatrice’s mind, clothing was what separated man from beast. A gown was a necessary covering for one’s naked form.
The more comfortable and serviceable the better.
