Was that a flash in the girl’s eyes? Alice couldn’t be sure. The girl sank into a graceful curtsy and said in a low voice, “How do you do, Lady Charlton?”
Alice inclined her head in acknowledgement. Someone had schooled the girl in deportment, at least. And her accent was good, better than her father’s.
“Prettily done. Now, don’t stand there like a looby, girl, come and sit down.” Bamber patted the space beside him.
Alice compressed her lips. The way he spoke to his daughter annoyed her, but there was more at stake here than bad manners.
Miss Bamber crossed the room and seated herself on a chair—not beside her father on the sofa. Interesting.
“I understand you wish to enter society, Miss Bamber,” Alice said.
The girl gave an indifferent shrug. She didn’t even look at Alice.
“Of course she does. She’s very eager to mix with all the lords and ladies,” Bamber said in a honeyed voice that failed to disguise his irritation. “Come, tell that to Lady Charlton, puss.”
“I’m very eager to mix with all the lords and ladies,” Miss Bamber repeated in a wooden voice.
“There, you see?” Bamber sat back.
Alice did see. The girl might have been taught to curtsy, but her manners were appalling. “Have you had much experience of parties and balls before, Miss Bamber?”
“No.”
“But she can dance,” her father said. “She’s as light as a feather on her toes, and as you can see, she’s been well trained in doing the pretty.”
Doing the pretty?Hardly. But Alice persisted with the interview. It was all a farce anyway. Unless she could find some way out of this mess, she was going to have to launchthis overdressed, sullen girl into the ton anyway. Thaddeus’s horrid letters were an axe over her head. But success was looking more and more unlikely, for if the girl wasn’t enthusiastic, what hope did Alice have?
“And you are looking for a husband?” Alice prompted her.
For the first time, the girl met Alice’s gaze—a brief, flat, unreadable look—but she said nothing.
“Of course she is, it’s her dearest wish,” her father said. “Forgive my little puss, Lady Charlton. She’s shy, a little overwhelmed at being in such refined company. But that will change, won’t it, Lucy?” Beneath his coaxing tone was a hint of threat.
“If you say so, Papa.”
“Good, now wait outside, my dear, while I have a word in private with Lady Charlton.” Lucy left.
“Well? What do you say, Lady Charlton? Do we have a deal?” Bamber said.
Alice stared at him helplessly. She had no choice, she knew that—the thought of those letters being made public was too dreadful to contemplate—but introduce this stiff, churlish creature to society? Finding her anyone to marry would be hard enough, let alone a lord. She couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be done.
She opened her mouth, but her throat was dry, and she couldn’t bring herself to agree, couldn’t even speak. It was all too soon, too sudden. Too impossible. Too ghastly.
There was a long silence. Then Bamber pursed his lips. “Perhaps you need time to think it over.” He indicated Thaddeus’s letter, still crumpled in her fist. “Read that again, Lady Charlton, and consider the consequences of refusing me. I’ll call again tomorrow at ten. Be prepared for a christening.” Without waiting for her response, he left.
As soon as she heard the front door close, Alice dropped weakly back onto her chair.
“Is everything all right, m’lady?” Tweed asked from the doorway. He looked worried. His glance fell to the lettershe was still clutching. Repressing the impulse to throw it in the fire, she folded the letter and tucked it away.
“I wouldn’t mind a cup of tea,” she managed.
Tweed hesitated. “Did I do right by admitting him, m’lady?”
Lord, if he hadn’t, who knew what Bamber might have done? What if he’d gone straight to a publisher...Let society drool and snigger over your husband’s letters.
She repressed a shudder. “Yes, Tweed, your instincts were not at fault. You did the right thing.”
A troubled furrow appeared between his brows. “Will we be seeing more of him, m’lady?”
