Page 2 of Scandalous Desires on a Summer Morning
“It is indeed wonderful,” Vi said with a sigh of contentment after tasting a lemon tart.
They ate, and Maryann said nothing when her sisters devoured the food quickly, almost desperately. She had no heart to remind them of ladylike behavior when they had not eaten a proper meal in days.
Vi sighed, repleted, before she stood and walked over to one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows. “Have you ever seen a manor or an estate ground so lovely?”
Maryann could only shake her head. No, she had not.
“Are we truly meant to live here?” Elizabeth asked, her voice hushed with wonder.
“I hope so,” Maryann murmured, folding her hands as she sat carefully on the edge of a sofa near the tall window that overlooked the green expanse beyond. It felt like another world, far removed from their lives and experiences.
The door opened. A woman entered with quiet, regal authority. Her dark yellow gown was flawlessly tailored, the diamond brooch at her throat winking in the firelight. She walked as one born to command, her spine straight, her chin high, her gaze cool and assessing as it swept the room.
Maryann knew at once who she was.
“The Misses Winton, I presume,” said the Countess of Hardwick, her voice crisp, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Sarah.
“I am Miss Maryann Winton, my lady,” Maryann said, rising to her feet and curtsying. “These are my sisters: Miss Elizabeth, Miss Vivian, and Miss Sarah.”
Vi and Lizzy dipped into graceful curtsies, offering polite greetings to the countess.
Sarah, painfully shy, said nothing at all. Instead, she pressed her face into the folds of Maryann’s gown, her small hands clutching the fabric as if to vanish inside it.
“Miss Sarah is your sister?” Lady Hardwick asked, her tone clipped, the glance she cast at Maryann full of censure.
Maryann’s belly tightened, but her face remained composed. “Yes, my lady.”
A tight smile touched the countess’s lips, though it did little to soften the steel in her gaze. “I am quite aware your mother, a dear friend, passed nine years ago, and your father never remarried.”
“My lady,” Maryann said quickly, “please, may we speak of this privately?”
Thankfully, Sarah was too young to understand the pointed insinuation.
“There is nothing to discuss privately,” the countess replied coolly. “The earl will see you soon. I shall send for more refreshments.”
With that, she turned on her heel and departed.
Elizabeth exhaled shakily. “I do not believe Lady Hardwick is pleased to see us.”
“Let us not worry,” Maryann said, though her heart pounded fiercely.
“How can you not worry?” Vi cried. “I am fit to faint!”
She smiled at her sisters to reassure them, even as her stomach twisted with unease. “When I wrote to the countess and spoke of visiting, boldly invoking her past friendship with mama and the promise mama once said had been made, Lady Hardwick might have refused us altogether. But she did not.”
The ticking of the mantel clock grew louder with every passing minute, its rhythmic beat filling the room like a distant drum of judgment. Sarah yawned and curled against the arm of the sofa, her small body sinking into the cushions before slippinginto sleep. Maryann did not have the heart to wake her. The four-day journey had been long and trying for them all.
Vi and Lizzy sat together near the fireplace, their heads inclined close in quiet conversation. Only a year apart in age—Vivian, sixteen, and Elizabeth, seventeen—they were more than sisters. They were each other’s constant companion and dearest friend.
Maryann patiently waited. She refused to let fear root itself in her chest before she knew the decision of Lord and Lady Hardwick. It was useless to shatter her nerves before it became necessary. Experience had taught her long ago that worry did not alter an outcome. It only robbed one of strength.
One hour passed. The anxiety she had locked away began to creep through the cracks, slicing through her composure with a swiftness she hated. At last, she rose from her seat.
“Wait here,” she said gently. “I shall make some inquiries of the housekeeper or the butler.”
Her sisters nodded, obedient and subdued. Maryann slipped from the room and stepped into the quiet hallway, following the muted murmur of voices echoing from somewhere deeper within the manor. A slightly ajar door along the corridor revealed a drawing room bathed in soft lamplight, its furnishings rich with brocade and velvet. She slowed her steps and tilted her head toward the voices.
“…a rather inconvenient responsibility,” the countess was saying, her voice polished and cool. “Truly, I cannot understand why Lord Winton namedyouguardian of his daughters. And now Miss Winton arrives with a fourth. Did she presume we wouldn’t know the circumstances of the youngest? It is outrageous and beyond the pale!”
