“The will makes it quite clear that nobody should wear black for Henry. And as his brother and his heir—and ashead of the Rutherford family—I must insist that you respect it, difficult though you may find it to put off your blacks before time.”
Cal buttered a piece of toast while the news sank in. Aunt Dottie might not like it, but she would respect the orders of the head of the family. She always had. And she’d make it clear to everyone in society that their lack of mourning was by Henry’s will and Cal’s orders.
Nobody would blame Aunt Dottie or the girls. They would blame the autocratic Earl of Ashendon. Who, with any luck, would be somewhere on the Continent.
Cal was very aware of Georgiana’s intense gaze boring silently into him, but he ignored her. She’d read Henry’s will. She knew there was nothing in it about not wearing black.
But there was nothing at all in the will abouther, either—and that was what had decided Cal.
He hadn’t said that Henry’s will had forbidden them to wear mourning; he’d said nobodyshouldmourn him. A small but vital difference.
If his niece questioned it, he would mention a later will. But judging by her silence, she wasn’t going to question him at all. And why would she? She got what she wanted.
“Does that mean we get to put off our blacks too?” Lily asked, her eyes sparkling.
Cal nodded. “In a week, it will be a year since Papa died and after that, yes, you may return to dressing as you used to, in white and colors and whatever.”
The two sisters exchanged glances. “And go to parties?” Rose asked.
“Of course.”
“And balls?”
“Yes, yes, whatever is suitable. You shall make your come-out next season.”
There was a short, shocked silence. “You meanthisspring? The season that starts in three months’ time?” Rose almost whispered it.
Cal nodded. “Yes. Pass the marmalade, if you please.”
“Which one of us will come out first?” Lily asked worriedly. As the youngest, she would expect to go last.
“All of you together,” Cal said.
At that there was a babble of exclamations and excited speculation. Shopping would have to be done: morning dresses, walking dresses, ball dresses ordered, and from a London modiste—nobody in Bath was sufficiently fashionable—and pelisses, slippers, hats, gloves, fans. The lists grew.
Cal ate his toast and drank his coffee, well pleased with the result. The prospect of a London season would distract the girls from further mischief for the foreseeable future. Now all he had to do was find someone to launch them. Aunt Dottie would come, of course, but she’d be the first to admit she wasn’t up to the rigors of a London season.
Aunt Agatha might not be willing to come to Bath to help him, but introducing three pretty nieces to the ton in their first London season was exactly the kind of thing she’d enjoy—though she’d be sure to extract her pound of flesh from Cal.
It would be worth it.
Between Aunt Agatha and Aunt Dottie they would manage, as long as Cal provided them with a suitable chaperone who would keep the girls in check and escort them to the more everyday events. And he knew exactly who that would be.
And once he had all that organized, he could leave.
“We will still need to purchase suitable clothing for George while we are here in Bath, and until the mourning period for your father—her grandfather—is up,” Aunt Dottie pointed out when the first excitement had died down.
“Do I have to—?”
Cal cut his niece off. “Purchase a wardrobe of black gowns for only a bare week’s wear?” Aunt Dottie hated waste.
Aunt Dottie pondered that. “I suppose she could wear some of Rose’s dresses. They’re much the same height.”
“A perfect compromise,” Cal said quickly, with a hard look at Georgiana to shut her up. “Quite unexceptional to wear black for the next week or so as a mark of respect for her grandfather. And perhaps you could buy something in half mourning—shades of lilac and lavender. You always looked lovely in purple.”
“It’s very irregular.” Aunt Dottie still wasn’t happy about it.
“Of course you will explain that it’s on my instructions, as head of the family, out of respect for Henry.” Lack of respect.
