Page 5 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
Abigail ducked her head. “But, Mama, what if… what if I can’t find a match this Season?”
Harriet Atwater was not listening. She had that familiar, glazed look in her eyes, pacing to and fro.
“You must apply yourself, Abigail. If we are to take our rightful place in the nobility, work must be done. Beatrix and her Lord Townsend were a very great start indeed, but if you make a poor marriage – or worse yet, none at all – it will ruin our advantage. Scarlett is the one who will raise us up, aren’t you, love?”
Harriet paused, turning to touch her youngest daughter’s cheek. Scarlett preened, and the distant look in Harriet’s eye grew misty.
Abigail stayed quiet. She had long wondered – blasphemous though it was to think such cruel thoughts about one’s own mother – whether Harriet did not see her child when she looked at Scarlett, but rather whatshecould have been.
After all, were it not for a few lopsided features – an overlong chin, a mouth too wide, eyes rather grey than blue – could not Harriet have looked like Scarlett, in her youth? If she had been a little shorter, less gangly, morewomanly, might she not have attracted scores of admirers, too?
As if she could sense the unfilial thoughts of her middle daughter, Harriet dropped her hand and turned to face Abigail.
“This cannot go on, Abigail,” she said quietly. “Three Seasons is a disgrace. If you embarrass this family any further, then…”
There appeared to Abigail no prospect of reprieve or salvation, as nobody in the household would dare interrupt Harriet when she was in full flow. She hadn’t counted on people outside the household.
The familiar crunch of carriage wheels on gravel made Harriet pause and crane her neck to look out of the window.
She sucked in a breath, lifting her hands halfway to her hair as if to adjust it.
“Oh, curses, she’s early. It’s your Aunt Florence. Come on, girls, hurry!”
Harriet turned and fled out of the room, followed closely by Scarlett. Abigail followed too, her heart a little lighter.
Not, of course, that she was safe, by any stretch of the imagination.
Harriet had married a plain Viscount, but her sister Florence had married a Marquess.
Aunt Florence had grown remarkably wide in middle age and had decorated her bulk with yards and yards of ruched peach silk. The dress took up an entire two-seater sofa, where Aunt Florence sat in state, letting her sister and youngest niece flutter around her. Even Beatrix’s husband was only half as wealthy as Aunt Florence’s husband had been. He was dead now, of course, and Aunt Florence was easily one of the wealthiest widows in London.
“Seed-cake, sister?” Harriet asked, smiling indulgently. “We have plenty. Scarlett, serve your aunt at once.”
Aunt Florence only smiled to herself, accepting a generous slice of cake. She had a head of vibrant red hair, now gradually fading towards white, and almost translucent eyebrows set high on a freckled face, and the same grey eyes as her sister. She had never been beautiful, and that had not stopped her catching one of the most handsome men in London.
Abigail liked her aunt a great deal, but Harriet had pulled her aside before they entered the parlour and told her in a sibilant hiss to sit quietly and let Scarlett speak to Aunt Florence.
Aunt Florence, it seemed, was not in on this plan. She glanced over Scarlett’s head – the girl had been placed on a footstool beside her aunt’s sofa – and met Abigail’s eye.
“Read any good novels lately, Abbie?”
Abigail flushed, and Harriet gave a nervous laugh.
“Oh, sister, don’t tell meyousubscribe to all that nonsense? Abigail spends her days polishing up her accomplishments.”
“Accomplishments? Yes, of course. Banging around on the pianoforte or producing boring old watercolours.”
“I have some watercolours,” Scarlett piped up, clearly struck by inspiration. “I could paint you if you like, Aunt.”
Harriet beamed at her daughter for this brilliant idea. Aunt Florence only lifted one gingery brow.
“In this dress, do you think? Harriet, what do you think of this dress?”
“It’s divine,” Harriet gushed. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It must have cost a fortune.”
“It did. And you, Scarlett? Does it suit me?”
Scarlett only hesitated for a heartbeat before plunging into a lie.
