“Of course it’s something. Thatwoman.” Her exasperation bounded against the walls. “She is nothing but a bitter and jealous feline, Gen. I should have seen it years ago, but I was too young and intimidated. Why, she must be at least thirty.” She shook off her dress and let it pool around her feet.
“She told me when you ordered the bronze gown, the madame nearly gave you the direct cut, but she stepped in and told her you were Lord Westbridge’s daughter.”
“Oh. I’d forgotten that.” Abra stepped over the silk at her feet. “Still, don’t make the mistake of disabusing yourself that her actions were altruistic. The woman was known for more than one incident of that nature that season. I’m more interested inwhy you think you are unmarriageable. What exactlydidshe say to you?”
Geneva picked up the pretty dress and shook it out then went to the wardrobe and hung it inside. “She said she…” Tears blurred her vision. The second short burst of emotion astonished her. Shenevercried.
“Gen?” Abra had her by the shoulders, then turned her, jarring the tears loose. They dripped down her cheeks. “What did Docia Hale say? Tell me.”
The hurt shifted to fury and she swiped the tears away. “She said she told Mr. Oshea he shouldconsiderme.”
“A statement with which I happen to agree,” Abra said gently.
“As. His. Mistress.” Geneva’s entire body shook with outrage. “She said marriage between me and Mr. Oshea would be completely unacceptable.”
Instantly, Abra grew incensed. Her face flushed, her eyes flashed. “Well, she is wrong, my friend. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
“Ha! What do I have to offer? There are no prospects, no connections, no dowry.” Saying the words aloud should have lightened the load on her shoulders. Instead, it felt as if an iron manacle banded her chest and squeezed.
“Ah, but you have integrity, honor, passion. More so than Docia Hale has in her delicate little pinky finger!”
The kiss Mr. Oshea had leveled on her flashed through Geneva’s mind and set heat searing her cheeks. “Passion,” she squeaked.
“You’ve taken up a noble cause regardless of its popularity.”
“Oh.” How could she have forgotten? Blast it. Her post for Hannah lay on the escritoire for anyone—Mr. Oshea—to read. “I, um, need to run to my chamber.”
“In a moment. Can you assist me with this frock?”
“Of course.” Geneva eyed the dark dress Abra pulled from the wardrobe. “Goodness, I do believe you are truly determined to help Mrs. Knagg. I thought you didn’t wish to embroil yourself in a scandal. Did you forget your baron is here?” Geneva didn’t believe for a minute Abra was serious.
Abra froze. “Oh. I did forget… but… Blast it, I just need out of this macabre dwelling. I’ll go for a walk.”
Shaking her head, Geneva pointed at the frock. “It’s raining and that dress is velvet.” A thought hit her. “Perhaps we could do some exploring. Surely, there are unpopulated portions in a castle of this magnitude where no one would see us. We could search for my locket. Yes! That’s perfect.”
A second later, Abra’s shoulders fell. “I don’t have a more appropriate one for poking about in cobwebbed attics and chambers.”
“I do.” And sadly, she did. “Of course, but if we happen into Lady Westbridge… well, you know… anything I have will definitely ‘peeve’ Lady Westbridge.”
Abra grinned. “Sounds brilliant.”
“And might get back to Lord Ruskin, Abra. But if you absolutely insist—” She stopped and leveled the same contemplative gaze Abra had turned on her moments ago. “You’re doing this to avoid your father, aren’t you? Abra…”
Abra’s chin went up and she grabbed the velvet dress. “Fine. If you don’t want help finding your locket—”
Geneva strode to the door. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, blast it. I’ll just be a moment.” She pulled the door open and slipped through.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.”
Geneva spun. “No—” But it was too late. Much too late. Mr. Oshea stood frozen just outside Geneva’s bedchamber door and Abra outside hers.
“What the devil?” Abra whispered.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Geneva said weakly.
Mr. Oshea’s lips tilted on one end. “Perhaps you should don a wrap, Lady Abra.”
Geneva gasped, and Abra looked down. “Oh, for the love of heaven.” She dashed back into her chamber.
