Us? Leo glanced at Isobel Burton sitting so demurely on the chaise longue. Did she imagine she would be entering society on her half sister’s coattails? She did, he saw. They both did.
Damn. He would have to squash those expectations immediately. He’d been hoping to leave it to his aunt, but he supposed it would be better coming from him.
Miss Studley was burbling on about the delights in store. “Of course, we are so looking forward to shopping in the capital. We’ve heard so much about it. The Pantheon Bazaar, the Western Exchange in Bond Street—we passed Bond Street on the way here—”
“Hatchards bookshop,” her half sister interjected.
“Oh yes, we are desperate for new books, and then of course we will want new dresses for our come-out—the village dressmaker is good, but she is not au courant with the latest fashions. Perhaps your aunt—”
Leo stopped the eager flow with a raised hand. “Spare me! I know nothing of feminine fashions.” His aunt, as they would discover, knew even less, but that wasn’t his concern. “Just have your bills sent to me and they will be taken care of.”
He turned to the half sister. “And you, Miss Burton, what are your plans? Are you seeking employment? Perhaps I could help you find something suited to someone in your position.”
“Someone in her position?” Miss Studley glanced at him, surprised. “Izzy will make her come-out with me, of course. And—”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Leo said. “The circumstances of her birth—”
“Are not her fault.” Miss Studley cut him off vehemently.“Izzy and her mother were very badly treated by my father—ourfather—”
“Who ain’t in heaven,” her half sister interjected sotto voce. “Unhallowed be his name... because of course, he’s in the other place.”
Leo gave her a sharp look. She responded with a faint mischievous smile and raised one shoulder in an infinitesimal shrug. Nothing shy or demure about this one, Leo thought.
Miss Studley continued, “And Izzy does not deserve to be punished for their sins.”
“Be that as it may,” Leo responded, “society has very high standards and—”
“Nonsense,” Miss Studley said crisply. Leo blinked. Not quite the docile cushion he’d thought her. She went on, “We might be from the country, Lord Salcott, and we might never have been to London, but we do read the newspapers and we’re not completely ignorant. The royal princes have bastard children who move freely in society and—”
He cut her off. “The offspring of royalty have privileges that the illegitimate child of a mere baronet does not.”
“But many of the leaders of society have children who it’s widely known were not fathered by their mothers’ husbands.”
“They were, however, born in wedlock,” he countered, “and as long as their putative fathers do not reject them, the law considers them legitimate. They are, therefore, acceptable in society.”
“This very kingdom was founded by William the Conqueror, who was famously a bastard,” she persisted.
“And the world has changed a great deal since then,” Leo said firmly. “The truth is, Miss Studley, like it or not Miss Burton will not be accepted by society, and you will be making your come-out alone.”
She drew herself up. “No, Lord Salcott, we will make ittogether. And you will address my sister as Miss Studley, if you please.”
Leo sighed. He did not please. The cushion was proving annoyingly argumentative. Oh, it was all said in a sweet, soft voice, but there was steel beneath that demure appearance. As for the half sister, if the glint in those extraordinary green eyes was anything to go by, she was sitting back and enjoying the show.
Again he averted his eyes. A man could drown in those eyes—if he weren’t careful, of course. Leo had learned to be very careful.
Matteo entered then with a tray bearing the tea things, and a plate of small cakes filled with cream. He bustled around pouring the tea, adding milk, lemon or sugar as requested and handing around the cups.
The moment he left the room, Leo said, “Your half sister has no right to the Studley surname.”
Miss Studley lifted her chin. “Mysisterwas christened Isobel Burton Studley. You may address her as Miss Studley or, since she is slightly the younger, you may call her Miss Isobel when we are together. To avoid confusion.” Her smile was sweet but implacable.
He glanced at the half sister. She was pretending to take no notice of the conversation—though that of course must be nonsense. She sipped her tea and perused the plate of cakes. Had she created this situation? Was she pulling her half sister’s strings? Setting her legitimate sister up to defend her?
The witch has her claws in deep, their father had said in that letter.
Miss Burton selected a small cake filled with cream and topped with a dob of raspberry jam. She raised the cake to her mouth and slowly licked the jam away. Leo couldn’t drag his eyes off her. She scooped up cream with a small pink tongue and, with a blissful expression, swallowed it.
Leo tensed, aware of every movement she made.
