“I won’t,” she said back to him. “You can’t take advantage of me when I understand my own actions. I may be a lowly scribe in your house, but I am fully aware of myself and the consequences of what I do. I wish you a good night.” She turned and started out of the kitchen, back out into what was now night.
“Hattie! Will I see you Wednesday?”
“Of course!” she called back, a little more sternly than she would have liked. As if one kiss would chase her from a position she sorely needed. Men were such fools.
She found her umbrella and fled into the wet night of London.
She grew increasingly agitated as she sloshed through the streets. She was furious with herself for falling in love with that man. It made her furious because she wasnota fool. She knew in her heart that he didn’t view her as a prospective match, and really, how could he? Even if she was so lucky to have the most handsome man in Europe fall in love with her, there would be the issue of her place in society with no connections, and worse, her family.
Her wholly unacceptable, greedy family.
No, a match between them was out of the question. But that didn’t mean she would shove her feelings down into a dark hole and bury them, as much as she would like to. Time on this earth was precious, and in some ways, time was for her even more precious. She was young yet, but she wouldn’t be forever. She was not far from being a spinster that no one would care about.
She would make the most of this opportunity while she could.
She wouldnotshy away from it or her feelings. Because deep in her soul, Hattie knew she would probably never feel this way again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FLORAWASRIFLINGthrough her wardrobe in search of something to wear to the garden party. She’d already tried on several beautiful dresses while Hattie and Queenie watched, but nothing suited her.
“Are those new?” Queenie asked, surveying the gowns Flora had discarded onto her bed.
“Yes,” Flora said absently and held up a pale yellow gown to her body in the mirror. “I told my mother the yellow makes me look sallow.” She whirled from the mirror. “Do I look sallow?”
“You look beautiful,” Hattie said.
“Perhaps a bit sallow,” Queenie added.
With a huff, Flora tossed the gown aside and returned to the wardrobe, and Hattie shot Queenie a look that Queenie very much ignored.
“I don’t know why you’re in such a dither,” Queenie said. “Christiana Porter has removed herself from consideration. She said she found him boring. She said he hardly spoke at all.”
“It is far more likely that he found her singing intolerable,” Flora said. “I thought you said her singing was passable, Queenie. It was wretched.”
“How should I know?” Queenie asked. “I only know what people tell me.”
Hattie had to stifle a snort at that one. Queenie said whatever she wished to be true, and quite often without any evidence at all.
“Dahlia Cupperson is still considered a potential match. Her family means to host a ball in his honor.”
“Aball?” Flora looked helplessly at them.
“What?” Queenie asked. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“My father refuses to host the viscount at all. He said it isn’t our place to create opportunities to see him, not unless his intentions are better known. Really, what’s the use of all this—the viscount will never find anything to recommend me, and I hardly care. I don’t want to live in Santiava, anyway.”
“You may not want to live in Santiava, but you do want to be rich, darling,” Queenie said. “Once you’ve married him and given him his heirs, you can return to London and lord it over all of us. Oh! Did I tell you? Mabel Stanhope has been invited to the Iddesleigh tea.”
“Stanhope?” With a groan, Flora sank to the floor and folded over her knees. “I don’t want to go.”
“Nonsense. You must go so that you can tell me everything,” Queenie said gaily.
A maid appeared at the door. “Miss Rodham, a carriage has arrived for you.”
“Already!” Queenie complained. She slowly stood up, then stretched her arms high overhead. “Don’t worry, Flora, darling. You’re every bit as desirable as anyone else. Not as rich, mind, but still desirable. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Flora nodded, and Queenie went out of the room. Somehow, Hattie managed to not kick her in the rump when she passed by.
