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“Mamma’s right,” Cara said. “Melinda doeseverythingher parents tell her to do.”
Kathleen’s stomach plummeted right through the floorboards to the root cellar. “Truly?”
“I went to school with her. She’sverybiddable.”
“And given Melinda’s excellent characterandthe size of her dowry,” Helen said, “I consider us fortunate that Lord Bevington is even willing to consider Richard’s suit.”
Kathleen bristled. “Hang on, now. Richard’s splendid. Melinda’s the lucky one, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you,” her father tartly put in.
He was clearly rattled by the reminder of the importance of the impending match. The Goreys weren’t pikers by any means, but Melinda’s family was exceedingly rich and influential. For Richard, who had political aspirations, the marriage would be a genuine coup.
“Sorry, Papa,” she muttered.
“Cara and Jeanette would also be affected,” Helen added. “If one daughter can behave so outrageously . . .”
“But I’m not even out till next spring,” Jeannie piped in.
“That won’t matter,” Helen impatiently said. “By this evening, the scandal will be all over town. I shouldn’t be surprised if we start receiving callers at—”
The sound of the doorknocker echoed from the front of the house, interrupting her.
“Blast it,” muttered Papa.
“Please do not suggest I marry Denny,” Kathleen said, feeling desperate. “For one thing, he’d never agree.”
“At this point, I doubt any decent man would marry you,” Helen replied.
“Mamma!” Jeannie exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “That’s an awful thing to say. If I were a man, I’d marry Kathleen right now.”
Kathleen gently pulled her sister back down. “It’s all right, love. We all know I’m not a patch on you and Cara. You’re both much prettierandnicer.”
“You are not without charms, Kathleen, if only you wouldn’t dress so oddly,” Helen said, momentarily diverted. “Take your carriage dress, for instance. Who in her right mind wears a white outfit to dash about in a dusty phaeton? Although I’ll grant it’s an attractive color on you.”
Kathleen blinked. Was that actually a compliment?
“We must be thankful, certainly, that you didn’t inherit the ghastly red hair so common in the Irish,” her stepmother added, instantly ruining the moment. “And if you would only bleach your freckles with lemon water, your complexion would be much improved.”
Kathleen’s mother, a true beauty, had been blessed with bright copper hair and emerald-green eyes. Kathleen had not been so favored. She had ordinary brown hair and a changeable gray eye color that simply refused to settle on a specific shade. And while Mamma had possessed a charming dash of freckles, Kathleen looked like she’d been splattered with cinnamon from a cosmic fountain.
“Kath’s freckles are fun,” Jeannie loyally said.
Kathleen gave her sister a brief hug. “Funny, more like it. And there aren’t enough lemons in England to banish my freckles.”
“Since hardly anyone will be seeing you for some months, it won’t matter,” Helen said.
Kathleen sighed. “Rustication then, is it?”
“Yes, the country. For as long as necessary.”
Kathleen froze for a moment before her brain kicked into gallop. Could it really be that simple?
“I suppose it makes sense to send me home to Ireland,” she casually said. “Then I’ll be completely out of sight. No one will think of me for a minute.”
If she could only get back to Greystone, any amount of humiliation would be worth it.
Helen all but sneered. “Without a proper chaperone? Absolutely not.”
