Page 27 of The Truth Serum
Now he was the one getting overwrought. “Of course, I appreciate—”
“But you’re always complaining. You won’t even give the baron a chance. He’s perfect for you.”
She gritted her teeth. She’d been conditioned from birth to stop arguing the minute someone took that tone. The words, “You don’t appreciate all I’ve done for you,” had been spoken in their home from her earliest memory. It was what her mother said whenever she became overwhelmed. Henry grumbled similar things, though never to her. And here was Fletcher voicing the same sentiment. The only one who hadn’t used the phrase was their father. He’d had no patience for anyone who needed appreciation.
But Father was dead and gone, and Rebecca had learned that there was no changing her family’s mind once that phrase wasused. For whatever reason, Fletcher was determined that she like this Baron Courbis. And so she would give him a chance. But she made no promises on marriage.
“I look forward to meeting the baron.”
Fletcher was not mollified.
“You will be kind to Baron Courbis tomorrow night. You will wear a gown that emphasizes your full assets.” He flicked a glance at her breasts. “And if he proposes, you will accept.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you will go home where you can marry the bootblack, for you will be of no more use to anyone.”
It wasn’t an idle threat. For all that mother loved London during the Season, she hadn’t the stamina to stay more than a few weeks. She was prone to illness, the London air was terrible on her lungs, and someone was always slighting her, or so she claimed. If Fletcher turned irritable, if he refused to escort them, her mother would grow petulant. It wouldn’t be long before Rebecca was shipped back home to wait hand and foot on her mother—again. And where—Fletcher was right—the only possible husband was far below her social status.
She wouldn’t care if any of them were remotely interesting. But she was well-read, intelligent on several medicinal topics, and wanted a man who loved her and all her foibles. Those men were non-existent back home. So she had to do what she could to stay in London.
If that meant temporarily appeasing her brother, then so be it.
So it was time to use her own well-used phrase, the one she pulled out whenever someone in her family grew stubborn.
“Of course, Fletcher. You’re right.”
It was a lie. It was always a lie, but she’d learned that the appearance of giving in was usually enough. It kept the peace while she went ahead and did what she wanted. And if therewere consequences for the lie, she would face them later. But right now, she couldn’t risk Fletcher’s ire. Besides, maybe the baron was perfect for her. She would wait and see.
“And I will wear something appealing,” she added. Then a defiant part of her pushed back because she hated being such a docile creature. “I will also meet other gentlemen there. That is the point of a ball, is it not? To meet eligible bachelors?”
Her brother flashed her a superior look. “Meet whomever you like but recall that I know better than you what they want and what are their peccadillos. You will trust me when I tell you that a gentleman is unacceptable.”
She had no answer to that. She knew from her work with Mrs. Chenoweth that some men had vices that were not shown to an innocent virgin. And though she wanted to believe she had some discernment when it came to the nature of men, her family obviously did not.
So she would have to walk a fine line while she was in London. But surely there was a man somewhere who would satisfy both herself and her family.
“Don’t pout,” Fletcher said, though if anyone were pouting it was him. “You’ll like the baron.”
“And what does he give you?” she asked, her voice carefully modulated to seem calm.
“What?”
“I am to help the family with my choice of bridegroom, yes?”
“Yes.”
“So what does the baron bring to our family?”
“Money.” Fletcher smiled. “He is richer than Croesus, and he will fund my bid for a seat in the House of Commons.”
“But we have plenty of money.”
“You have your dower property. Henry has the income that goes to the title. I have nothing.” He said that last part with an indignant sniff.
Fletcher had a generous allowance, according to Henry. But prices were different in London, as she had cause to discover when she saw the bill for her gowns. Perhaps Fletcher was more pinched than she knew. Especially since he paid for the London staff out of his own funds.
“What does the baron offer me?”
