CHAPTER ONE
“Papa, for the love of decorum, you will mention nothing about Aunt Marianne’s hat. Lucy is already about to lose her mind.”
“You mean that monstrosity that almost blinded me at the last function?” Howard snapped back. “I do intend to confront her about it.”
“Papa!”
Cecilia was quite certain that by the end of the evening, Lucy, her dear cousin, would be in pieces. Everything felt frayed and frantic, and honestly, Cecilia wasn’t sure how she had ended up in the middle of it all. This was Lucy’s problem, not hers. Yet, there she was, hours deep into the madness at the Hemroad Residence. They had arrived early that afternoon, at Lucy’s insistence, no less. Several letters had come over the past week, each one more breathless than the last, begging Cecilia to comeat once. Lucy was unraveling, and Cecilia, apparently, had been elected to stitch everything back together.
“Just be polite, Papa,” Emma, Cecilia’s sister, added. “It’s important that we show support.”
Howard let out a breath and turned from the window where he’d been watching the carriages arrive. “Support?” he echoed. “Tell me, Emma, where was her support when we needed it?”
Cecilia gave Emma a knowing look and sighed.
“When you were marrying the duke, do you recall your aunt’s presence then? Because I do not,” Howard continued. “Your mother was gone, God rest her soul, and we were trying to hold ourselves together with threadbare lace and borrowed smiles. Was Marianne there to help? To lift a finger? To say a kind word?”
“Papa…” Emma tried to respond.
“Not a letter. Not a visit,” Howard went on. “But now she needs us.”
“Papa…” Cecilia stepped forward, putting up both hands in the air. “We have already established that Aunt Marianne is nothing if not perfectly wicked, but that is not the point. We are here for Lucy, our dear cousin, who is a darling. She’s counting on me to make this day less unbearable, not more dramatic.”
Howard clicked his tongue and walked across the room to sit.
“Can we just pretend we have gone selectively deaf today and ignore–”
The door to the drawing room swung open just as Marianne’s voice cut through the moment before Cecilia could finish her sentence. Cecilia forced a polite smile as her aunt, the Viscountess Hemroad, Marianne Crampton, strutted into the room.
Tall and slender, with dark brown hair swept into a severe chignon, Marianne wore a gown of deep emerald silk that clung to her like a second skin, emphasizing both her elegance and her unyielding nature. Her steely gray eyes were sharp and cold, like a hawk silently judging everything and everyone in the room before she agreed to speak.
“My dear brother,” she said first, walking straight to Howard. “How nice of you to grace us with your presence. I half-expected you’d stay hidden away in protest, as you so often do when there’s joy to be celebrated.”
Howard turned to Cecilia for a short moment before turning back to Marianne, giving a tight nod. “And miss the pleasure of your company, Marianne? Unthinkable. We are here for Lucy.”
“Wonderful,” Marianne said, clasping her gloved hands together. “She’s been dreadfully nervous all morning, flitting about like a sparrow in a storm. I have no idea what the ruckus is all about. She should be elated.”
Marianne let out a soft sigh and turned her attention to Cecilia. “I’m sure your presence will do her good, Cecilia. Lucy has always loved having you around,” she said and smiled...a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It rarely ever did.
Cecilia curtsied in response. But before anyone could respond, she turned to Emma, who was standing by Cecilia’s side. Her eyes narrowed with that familiar, falsely thoughtful gaze. Her eyes swept over Emma slowly, beginning at her shoes, then drifting up the line of her skirts as if evaluating the seam work, the fabric, the fit. They lingered briefly at Emma’s waist, narrowed at the bodice, and finally settled on her face.
Aunt Marianne tilted her head slightly, as if something didn’t quite add up. Her lips parted like she might say something kind, but the gleam in her eye betrayed her. “Emma, my dear,” she began sweetly. “There seems to be something different about you. Yes, you’ve gained weight. Well-fed, clearly.”
She gave a delicate, meaningless laugh and scanned the room, as if searching for approval.
Emma smiled. “It’s good to see you, too, Aunt Marianne,” she said, her voice perfectly even as she reached down to gently caress her stomach. “I’m expecting again,” she announced. “Given that there’s a baby growing inside of me, I suppose a bit of roundness is to be expected.”
A flicker of something passed over Marianne’s face, too quickly to place. She raised her eyebrows, just as she straightened her back. “Oh,” was all she said.
“My husband had business in London,” Emma continued. “So we’re only here for the season.”
“Well then,” Aunt Marianne said, straightening slightly and brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve, “I will leave you to settle in. Guests will be arriving shortly, and I must ensure the staff haven’t confused the dinner arrangements again.”
Without waiting for a response, Marianne disappeared through the doorway as swiftly as she had walked into the room. Once she was gone, Cecilia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Thankfully, there had been no bickering, at least, not the sort she’d braced for on the ride over. Cecilia counted it a small victory.
“I think I’ll go find Lucy,” Cecilia said quickly. “Let her know that we have arrived.”
Emma nodded. “I’ll stay here with Papa until it’s time for the dinner.”
