Page 22 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
Her friends had insisted on escorting her home from the Park, bringing Mr. White—no,Snowy—along with them. And now, they were insisting on forming a protective cordon around her for the garden party.
“Here will work perfectly,” Snowy said, smiling at Cordelia.
Margaret surrendered. Their overreaction was irritating, but she understood everyone had her best interests at heart. “Very well, Cordelia. Aunt Aurelia has cried off, and it will be nice to have your company.”
Her friends were too polite to scoff at the fiction that Aunt Aurelia was “company”, but Regina said, “She disapproves of Lady Hamner, I suppose.”
Margaret sighed. Her great aunt was putting her in an impossible situation, with her prejudices and poor judgement. Lady Hamner might be the daughter of an Irish actress, but her fatherhadbeen a duke, and Lady Hamner had been raised by his duchess in her household. Furthermore, she was acknowledged and loved by her half-brother, the current duke, and had married a wealthy and respectable earl. Her younger sister had also married well.
If Aunt Aurelia mentioned her opinion of Lady Hamner in public, she would annoy several powerful families. Just as well, then, she had refused the invitation to the garden party.
A few minutes later, after she had said her farewells and gone inside, her butler told her that Aunt Aurelia was entertaining guests in the drawing room. Margaret was not pleased to find young Mr. Snowden and his friend Mr. Deffew drinking tea and listening to Aunt Aurelia complain about Mr. White’s origins, character, manners, and possible intentions.
The two gentlemen stood when she entered the room. “I did not realize you had guests, Aunt,” she said.
Aunt Aurelia tittered. “Do not be frivolous, Margaret. Mr. Snowden and Mr. Deffew have come to visityou, of course.” She frowned. “They enter entirely into my feelings on that dreadful man, Margaret. Mark my words, you are asking for trouble allowing him to be so familiar.”
Margaret was not going to allow the woman to goad her into a response in front of the two too-interested young men. “Will you step into the hall with me, please, Aunt Aurelia?”
Aunt Aurelia smirked. “To have private conversation with me when you have visitors, my dear, would be poor manners.”
The smirk tipped the balance. Margaret’s voice was cold even to her own ears when she turned to the gentleman. “It would not be my choice, gentlemen, to have this discussion in front of an audience, but when my aunt freely discusses my private business with other people, I suppose my scruples are unnecessary.”
“Now, Margaret. Losing your temper is not ladylike,” Aunt Aurelia prodded.
Margaret managed to keep her voice calm. “Aunt Aurelia, you are my companion, not my keeper, and surelynotmy governess. Furthermore, it would appear that you no longer feel able to keep me company when I go out, which puts me in a difficult spot. I cannot have a companion who picks and chooses when to carry out her duties, or who criticizes me in front of—and to—other people. It is time we discussed your retirement, Aunt. For now, please go to your room. You may send a maid to sit with us while the gentlemen are present.”
Aunt Aurelia’s eyes were nearly popping out of her head. “But you cannot send me away. I am your only living relative. I helped to raise you.”
Two out of three were untrue. Sadly, she and Aunt Aurelia were the last surviving members of her family. But Aunt Aurelia had shown no interest in her at all until Margaret’s father died, shortly after her brothers. Given what she knew of the lady now, Margaret suspected that her father had refused to give house room to his mother’s aunt. He never did anything that might diminish his own comfort.
Then Margaret inherited the title and the estates for the benefit of her first son. Suddenly dependent upon the young woman she had ignored for more than twenty years, Aunt Aurelia had appointed herself as companion, instructor, and commentator.
And Margaret certainlycouldsend her away. It was only pity and maybe the hope that their relationship would become warmer and more familiar—as well as the fact that Aunt Aurelia was totally dependent on Margaret—that had prevented her from doing so months ago.
Mr. Deffew shifted uneasily. “We should go,” he whispered to Mr. Snowden. Fortunately, Margaret had excellent hearing.
“I have to talk to her,” Mr. Snowden replied, equally quietly. “Or do you want to tell Father that we left without saying anything?”
Margaret did not take her eyes off Aunt Aurelia, nor acknowledge in any way that she had heard the whispers. Aunt Aurelia glared back, but Margaret could see uncertainty in her eyes. Perhaps even a bit of fear.
For heaven’s sake. She was going to set the woman up in the dower house with servants and an allowance, not throw her out into the street. Aunt Aurelia did not wait for her to say so. She sniffed loudly. “You always were a difficult child,” she said. “Willful like your mother.” With her nose in the air, she stormed off, slamming the door behind her.
Margaret opened it again and asked the butler to send in a maid.
“I apologize for washing our family linen in public, gentlemen.” They looked much more cheerful now that her aunt was gone and the scene was over. Undoubtedly, it would make a fine story for them to spread wherever they went. “She is growing old. I intend to settle her in the dower house at my estate.” She sighed. “And I will need to find another companion, which is a nuisance. But there, you did not visit me today to discuss my domestic troubles.”
Mr. Snowden looked at Deffew who returned the look with a panicked one of his own. Clearly, Snowden was on his own with whatever task his father had given him.
The maid entered the room and took a seat in the corner.
Mr. Snowden looked at her, and grimaced. Then he took a breath, clearly nerving himself for what he was about to say. “Lady Charmain, I need to warn you, and also ask you a favor.”
“Carry on,” Margaret said. Nothing in her tone could be interpreted as encouraging.
“First,” he said, “I was pleased to see that you had your friends with you in the park. That man you were with at the ball—he is dangerous, my lady. I was worried about you.” He fluttered his eyelashes and sent her a warm smile before continuing. She was grateful she wasn’t easily swayed by his charms and could read his true intent.
“He is a fraud and a charlatan. My father has found out that he claims to be Henry Snowden, my half-brother, who died when I was a baby. He can’t be, of course. It is just a trick. Father thinks he wants us to pay him to go away, for he won’t get the viscountcy. My father is thetrueviscount.”
