“Cousin Winnie, bless her, noticed nothing out of the ordinary, not until you danced,” she raised the letter up, “far too closely to the duke.” She slapped the vellum down. “Granby was expected to announce to everyone he and Beatrice were to be engaged. Then you both disappeared from the ball.”
Romy looked down at her plate, watching the honey drip over the edge onto the tablecloth. Pith, their butler, would be most upset.
“It was not until the following morning, after you and your sister fled the house party, which, by the way, did nothing but make you look guilty, that Winnie heard from Lady Foxwood that Beatrice and Granby would not wed as his affections had fallen elsewhere. She then proceeded to chastise your cousin for being a poor chaperone and me for allowing you to be in trade.”
Romy wracked her brain, trying to figure out how Beatrice could possibly have found out. The only way would be if she saw Romy’s sketches which, except for the day in the woods, had been in her room. A cold trickle of dread trailed down her spine.
Beatrice had been in her room at The Barrow.
“Why would Lady Foxwood say such a thing, Andromeda?” Her mother’s voice raised an octave. “You told me upon your return home that you disliked the duke in every way.”
“He is most unpleasant,” Romy offered. Dear God. She hadn’t been out of the house except to see Madame Dupree or to walk in the park; she’d been too afraid of bumping into Granby. This was far worse.
Her mother’s eyes narrowed as a grim smile tightened her lips. “My dears,” she glanced at Theo and Olivia, “I need to speak to Andromeda in private.”
“Of course.” Theo stood, shooting an apologetic look at Romy. “Let us take a turn about the gardens, Olivia.”
“And pray catch Phaedra as I am certain she will burst through the doors at any moment. I don’t wish us to be interrupted.” Her mother looked at the two footmen. “Leave us. Shut the door behind you. Should you see His Grace wandering about, please ask him to come to the breakfast room.”
Both men bowed, closing the doors quietly behind them.
“You are in trade.” Her mother calmly stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. “I’m to assume your hobby has become more?”
“Not exactly.” She wet her lips and proceeded to tell Mama how it had begun innocently enough. She’d gone to the modiste’s as a way to pass the time and keep from dwelling too much on her father’s illness. Assisting young ladies with their wardrobe choices had naturally happened. Madame Dupree noticed and asked to see Romy’s designs. “Now we are partners in her shop. She plans to expand. Carry ready-made clothing for the working class.” Romy looked down at her hands. “I’m very good at it.”
“You are. But you are also the daughter of a duke.”
“Yes. I’m expected to marry well and preside over tea.” She looked up at her mother.
“Which brings us to the next point.” Her mother’s gaze pierced her. “Granby. I’ve raised all you girls with the firm belief a gentleman doesn’t define you. Neither I nor Tony would force any of you to marry against your will if you didn’t wish it, or to marry at all.”
“I know.” A lump formed in Romy’s throat.
“But I also cannot allow your reputation to become so tattered that other young ladies are crossing the street to avoid you. Think what such a thing would do to your partnership with Madame Dupree, which isn’t even legal, by the way. Tony will have to see to that.”
“Mama—”
“I’ve never told you, but I was not a maiden when your father and I met. He was not my first lover.”
Romy blushed at her mother’s frankness. It was one thing for her mother to speak to her of what to expect from the marriage bed, quite another to imagine her mother doing such things, especially with a man other than Romy’s father.
Or evenwithher father.
“I was fortunate that I never found myself with child. My already dire circumstances would have become much worse.” She stood and came around the table to sit next to Romy. “And I didn’t love him, that first man. Are you in love with Granby?”
A sob came from Romy’s lips. “Yes. But we cannot be together.”
“Clearly he doesn’t want to marry Beatrice Howard. Lady Foxwood is busy shredding your reputation over the fact.”
“No. He wants to marry me, but—”
The breakfast room doors burst open to reveal her brother Tony looking splendid in an indigo coat and fawn-colored riding breeches, splattered with bits of dirt. He’d been out riding, which usually put him in a wonderful mood.
“He ruined her,” Tony snapped, jerking the gloves from his hands. “Bloody fu—”
“Anthony,” her mother cautioned him. “No vulgarities. You’ve been spending too much time at Elysium, apparently, to have such things slip into your speech.”
He turned to Romy, blue eyes so like her own, blazing with fury. “It is all over London. You’re a scandal, Andromeda.You. I expected Theo to do something like this. She’s always so self-contained. It’s bound to unravel at some point.”
