Chapter Four

Two fruitless ventures to Hyde Park later, Augusta found herself and Delphi sitting before Mama and Lottie in the parlor.

While Augusta attempted to shore up her courage, anxiety gripped her heart. What more could be done to soften the blow of disappointed hopes? Nothing. Feeling dreary and docile, she studied the polished silver service and the tray of assorted sweets displayed before them, thankful for small blessings in her life. Cook's delectable sponge, seedcakes, lemon-cheese tarts, macaroons, and biscuits tempted a nibble, but neither she nor her sister could possibly contemplate eating when their futures were discussed as if they were not even in the room.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, illuminating the faces of those she loved. Teacups and saucers tinkled, the comforting sound occasionally disrupting conversation.

Augusta raised a cup to her lips, attempting to look unfazed. The faint sweet aroma of green grass, morning dew, and citrus wafting to her nostrils, a nostalgic reminder of days gone by when she and her sisters were invited to tea with no notion of time and a lack of mature burdens to tackle.

Delphi whispered in her ear. "A half-penny for your thoughts."

"What would you have me say?" She attempted to sip the tea cooling in her cup. How did one verbalize inner pain without crying buckets of tears? Her throat closed up at the absurdity of the moment. "My objections are pointless."

"Everything is being taken care of," Lottie hastily assured her. "You are loved and cherished. All will be well. You will see."

That was the problem. She did see. She knew that her fate could not possibly have a happy conclusion. If everything was being taken care of—as Lottie put it—it was being done without her input, thanks to Thenie and Kilverstone. In the past several days, and without another opportunity to see the man haunting her mind and body, she had considered what Lottie and her mother proposed—a marriage of convenience—no different from the way Mama and Papa's relationship had started. Secretly, however, she longed for passion and persuasion like what she'd felt, if only briefly, in Hyde Park.

A baffling spell, surely. Recollections of a look, a word, a possibility stolen remained with her without growing stale. Who was the mysterious wanderer, the man who'd stolen her peace and satisfaction? Furthermore, what if the man chosen for her to wed was a bore, a gambler, or a self-absorbed fool like Lord Boothe? Where would that leave her, or any children produced from the marriage?

She swallowed thickly, the lump in her throat refusing to go down, increasing her discomfort. How much of her life was she willing to leave to chance? Part of her knew to trust her family, but then there was the other part—the wanton who desired the pleasures promised by love. The part that was terrified of all this uncertainty.

"The circumstances are not as clandestine as that. All will be well. I love you, my girls, as much as life itself, and would never propose to marry you off to an ogre." Augusta exchanged a look with Delphi, neither finding their mother's joke funny. "Your father and I are not medieval," Mama continued, nonplussed. "We are neither cruel nor without feelings. And we are not intimidated by those prepared to eat their own. However, the truth of the matter is that you face an incontrovertible foe."

"The newspapers," Lottie added. "One must never overlook the power of the pen."

"I am well aware." A wail of sorrow nearly burst from her chest. "But what can either of you possibly know about thwarting scandals? You live perfect lives."

Mama's expression altered, age lines furrowing between her brows. "It may surprise you to know that your father and I have dodged our fair share of scrutiny."

"And your generous spirits never hesitated, Aunt." Lottie reached out to clasp Augusta and Delphi's hands. "Your parents love you. This is only a temporary burden to bear. I promise your lives will be enriched with love and security for you have stalwart champions in your corner."

"Making a promise like that is risking our affections," Augusta warned.

Lottie frowned. "It may not seem like it now, but your situation is not as perilous as you might think. After all, Thenie fell in love with the man I arranged for her to meet."

"You arranged—"

"I will explain exactly how that happened another time, Delphi. Your futures are more important now." Augusta shrank back, embarrassed to admit that her cousin was right. "Have faith. All will be revealed in good time."

A dizzying sensation swept over her. "But you cannot take credit for Thenie and Kilverstone's marriage. They—"

"Fell in love," Delphi finished for her. "You could not have foreseen that outcome because Kilverstone didn't meet Thenie until he returned with you from Athens."

"Yes." Lottie smiled. "I know."

"Your father misjudged Lord Boothe. That is clear. And mercifully, the baron discredited himself before Thenie fell prey to his machinations." Mama produced a piece of parchment and waved it before them. "And now it is your turn, my darling girls." She passed the foolscap to Lottie. "Lottie has brought us a list of prospective gentlemen of marriageable age, social status, and fortune, and your father has given us permission to present it to you. All he asks is that you look it over and present any questions or complaints to him personally."

Augusta's heart hitched. Her nostrils flared, old fears and uncertainties rising. "Does he expect us to pick through a few jotted names, willy-nilly, banking our entire existence on a name?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You cannot be serious."

"Quite so." Mama's clear blue eyes reflected beams of light streaming in from the windows. "He. Is. Very. Serious."

"Let me see it." Forgetting herself, she snatched the list from Lottie's hands, then sat back to skim over the names, conferring with Delphi. "We have never actually met any of these men, Mama."

"We are aware of that. But you have heard of them."

Delphi turned the parchment over. "But the haste with which to choose. Surely, that will require—"

"Interviewing each one," Augusta continued.

Lottie cleared her throat, then opened her mouth to speak, but Mama spoke first. "There isn't time, my loves."

"‘Plodding wins the race.'"

"Lottie!" the twins wailed. "Have we not had enough Aesop for four lifetimes?"

"One can never get enough wisdom," Mama said. "Remember, ‘The gods help them that help themselves.'"

"Everything will work out as it should." Lottie winked conspiratorially. "You will see."

"I don't understand how you can be so certain," Delphi said, her doubt mirroring Augusta's.

"I feel as if we are being punished for something we have not done."

Mama's face turned ashen. "Augusta, ‘It is vain to expect our prayers to be heard, if we do not strive as well as pray.'"

Augusta rose from her seat as if by some explosive force, drowning out the hen-peckish sounds of those arguing around her and glaring at the list she held in her hands. Her heart thump-thumping, she tightened her grip on the paper, vaguely hearing Delphi's urgent pleas for clemency as she, too, suffered from the same gut-wrenching misery.

Every breath cost energy, and a heavy veil settled over her, giving her the weblike assurance that she was truly trapped. Mama was serious. Papa had vetted the list. How else would it be in their hands at this very moment? An elegant hand had inscribed every name—Lottie's writing? And legacies had been dissected and categorized for their scrutiny.

She read on until a strange name, in particular, stood out from the rest. One she had never seen or heard before.

"Mama?" she asked numbly as her mother raised a delicate, flowery teacup to her mouth.

"Hmmm?"

"Who is Mr. Quinton Prendergast?"

Delphi broke out into giggles, covering her mouth as she struggled to control her mirth.

Augusta lowered herself to the sofa in abject misery as Mama motioned to Lottie to provide the answer. "Mr. Prendergast is a self-made gentleman with ￡3,000 a year."

"He's as wealthy as Boothe, Augusta." Delphi gasped, then blurted out, "But he is untitled!"

"That is true," Lottie said stiffly. "I beg. Do not immediately dismiss him because of this small formality."

"Small formality." Could her cousin not see the irony? They were daughters of a viscount. Everyone expected them to—"Society will rebuke him—us."

"Some will. Yes." The look her cousin gave her accused Augusta of unnecessary prejudice. "But what defines a good man?"

She shook her head, trying to make sense of their plan. Had they not been raised to believe that only a man with a title was good enough for them? "Surely, you do not mean that Papa considers this man worthy—a man without breeding and privilege?"

"Augusta," Mama scolded. "Consider your tone."

"He must be an important man," Delphi said, seeking to offer comfort. "With excellent qualities. Else why would Papa give Mr. Prendergast the time of day?"

"Your father is a good man," Mama said, "with a good heart. He knows titles do not make the man, contrary to what others believe. A proper gentleman is not born but made."

"Mama," Augusta pleaded, trying to make sense of this nonsensical world she'd been thrust into. "I have never heard you speak like this before. You are too kind and generous, always eager to help those in need, but I admit to being mystified. Do you really believe what you are saying?"

Mama paused, a section of sponge perched near her mouth, her buoyancy sinking Augusta's hopes. "I do."

"This has been very informative but I beg your leave." Delphi rose, grabbing Augusta for support as she shot up with her. Her sister's somber expression triggered Augusta's concern. "I have much to consider and desire to be alone. If you'll excuse me."

"But the list," she pressed Delphi as her sister walked slowly to the parlor door. "Are you not at all concerned about the names recorded here?"

"No." Delphi turned back, the look in her expressive eyes dull, her face suddenly ashen. "All will be well."

Fear constricted her chest. Those were the same words her sister used whenever she sought to convince Augusta she wasn't ill.

She stepped forward, her nerves prickling, prepared to run to her sister's side, but Lottie caught her arm, bringing her up short. "Don't go. Not yet anyway. We have much to talk about and plan, for your sake, and Delphi's. Stay. Allow me to be the voice of reason."

Delphi had sworn her to secrecy. She could not chase after her sister without divulging that she suspected Delphi had another case of the vapors. Of late, the attacks had become more frequent. No one must suspect the problem, especially in light of current events. For Delphi would not tell their parents or enlist the aid of an apothecary. Therefore, unable to break Delphi's confidence, she could do nothing more than watch her twin depart. "I would do anything for Delphi, and you know it."

"As would I." Tenderness gleamed in Lottie's eyes. "Come sit and listen to what I have to say."

At her cousin's urging, she sank back onto the settee, feeling like a hapless leaf whirling and twirling in a gusty breeze. The hint of a tempest ever drawing near. What she wouldn't give to return to her childhood, to days of frivolity and freedom, when nothing but the color of the sky and the perfect flower were of singular importance.

"What should Delphi and I do, Lottie? How do I delay my sister's disgrace?" Moreover, how did she manage to restore her sister's health? "And how do I get rid of this overpowering sense of shame that I am helpless to procure her future happiness?"

"My sweet girl!" Mama's teacup and saucer rattled as she quickly set them on the tray and rushed to her side. "No one is accusing you of doing anything untoward." Stroking her hair—as she'd done since Augusta and Delphi were little—she said, "Neither has your sister, Thenie, though much is being made of her conduct. You must understand, the ton is cruel. Falling in love is supposed to be a natural phenomenon. But, since your father holds a viscountcy, we are also bound by Society and fated to adhere to certain conventions."

"Thenie and Kilverstone only shared a kiss, Mama. That does not warrant imprisonment in the Tower."

Mama gasped. "Augusta Steere!"

"If I may be so bold," Lottie interjected, her calming tone helping to soothe her restless spirit. "A kiss is not considered promiscuous, in the right circumstances. The rags, however, tittle tattle to the masses because that is what gossipmongers desire to hear. From their prospective, it is just good business. Besides, most people are so unhappy with their own lives that they think nothing of ruining others. In fact, if I were to guess. I'd say they actually enjoy seeing other people suffer."

The betrayal infuriated her.

"Augusta, dearest." Mama kissed her forehead, the sweet gesture restoring her peace. "A kiss is a precious act shared between two people who are drawn together by an unseen thread. It is nothing to be ashamed of. I ask you not to blame your sister for following her heart."

"I am not ashamed of Thenie, Mama." She bristled, a silent anguish taking hold. "In my heart, I believe she married the baron because of us."

"Because of you and Delphi?" Mama asked.

"Yes." She smiled sadly. "For some time now, we pressured Thenie to marry so that we could have our go. It's humiliating to admit that we were never easy on her." She wiped away an errant tear. "I know she did not love Boothe." She looked up to prevent more tears from falling down her cheeks. "I think." For she truly believed this to be true. "I know she found the right man and saw no need for a lengthy courtship. Nevertheless, her indiscretion at Vauxhall has left Delphi and me to pay the price."

"She never meant to hurt you." Lottie pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. "Cling to the knowledge."

She did. She would. Closing her eyes, she happily recalled their childish games and laughter, knowing how much Thenie loved them. But these were horrible circumstances. Yes, they lived in an exquisite townhouse in Mayfair and were provided all the niceties money could buy. They'd never been given cause to complain about any aspect of their lives, until now, until Thenie... until this. Papa loved them. Cherished them. Allowing them freedoms most females were denied. For there were still fathers who plotted and planned for their daughters' futures based on income and importance.

Never in a million years had she entertained that Papa would become one of those men.

Thenie's interlude at Vauxhall forced Papa's hand.

A shiver of panic swept over her. "How will this work?"

"Allow me to describe the letter which found me on Tour," Lottie said.

"Who sent it?" she asked.

Mama and Lottie exchanged troubling glances.

"Will you stop looking at each other that way and tell me the truth?"

"The sender is not important," Lottie insisted slyly. "The contents were, alerting us that something needed to be done to prevent Boothe's lies from disgracing the family."

"I do not understand." Warning spasms of alarm gripped her.

"You will. You see, I knew that Kilverstone would be a good match for Thenie. In exchange, the baron gained a companion to share the ancient world. Together, they will see sights that Thenie and I studied in books as children."

"Their marriage was your plan all along?" Augusta blinked at the incredulity of it all. Lottie? A matchmaker like the infamous widow at Whitehall? "All this time, you knew the baron planned to offer to marry Thenie, and you did not tell us?"

"We could not risk Thenie discovering the truth before her heart responded," Mama said.

Mama knew too? She swallowed thickly, the intricate plan catching her completely off guard. "And now you play matchmaker with my heart, is that it?"

"I have it on good authority," Lottie said, "that the list in your hand offers you the happy ending you deserve."

"On whose authority?"

"Aunt?" At Mama's nod, Lottie admitted, "The list comes from the Black Widow of Whitehall."

"No!" The idea that they had enlisted the widow's help in finding her a husband was appalling. "I cannot believe my ears. Have we been forced to stoop so low?" In her mind, the Lyon's Den was the lair of vipers, gamblers, and lechers. "If this became known it would be the ruin us all! Why have you consulted the widow?"

"For reasons anyone else does—averting scandal." Lottie folded her hands in her lap, unwilling to elaborate further.

"The situation is unalterable then?" Mama's nod heightened Augusta's misery. "And Papa sanctioned this?"

"Yes." Mama smiled wanly. "For reasons that are our own."

Nothing made sense. How could this be so? "So, I am to trust that this list is legitimate? That a complete stranger has our best interests at heart?" She bristled with indignation. "Why would the black widow help us?"

"She is a matchmaker," Lottie said dismissively. "Well-sought after by members of the gentry and the ton. And her record for creating lasting marriages has no equal."

That may be well and good but Augusta owed it to Delphi to push back harder. "There is more to this than you are telling me, isn't there?"

Her cousin rose fluidly from her chair. "That conversation will have to wait for another day. Grey is expecting me."

"You are leaving?" She pointed to the list she'd unknowingly crumpled in her fist. Surprised by her own anger, she flattened the parchment between her palms. "How am I supposed to choose one of these men?"

"You will meet them." Lottie's eyes widened, and she smiled broadly. "At a ball."

Mama stood, joining Lottie. "Lady Claremont's invitations were sent out a month ago, and fortunately, our collaborator assures us that all the men on the list are expected to attend."

But how was it possible for Mrs. Dove-Lyon to know? "The widow has access to these invitations?"

"Contrary to what you might think, Augusta, Mrs. Dove-Lyon is connected to Society in ways you will never comprehend."

"Providential." Too coincidental for her liking. Since when had her mother and cousin joined the ranks of matchmaking schemers like Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon? "When is Lady Claremont's ball?"

Mama winked conspiratorially. "This week."

"Select your finest gown," Lottie said. "If you do not have one, we shall call in a modiste. You must make a good first impression."

Butterflies took flight in her stomach. She glanced at the list once more, taking mental note of all the names inscribed there. Lord Boothe was out of the question, given that he'd tried to ruin her beloved sister. In fact, she couldn't believe his name had been included. Lord Warren was there also. He required a cane because of his advancing years. Lord Darby was a stout young man, but he sneezed whenever he was near women.

She trembled at the ridiculousness of it all, reading until she reached Lord Glanville's name. He whined about the weather and the hours it would take him to reach the coast, earning him a hard ‘no'. Lord Symondes yawned repeatedly, bored with everything under the sun. Lord Howard bemoaned his betters. And thusly, she went on, collectively calling to question each man's faults, until the last name made her recall Delphi's reaction. A giggle escaped her.

"Mr. Quinton Prendergast is out of the question." What kind of man bore the name Prendergast? She imagined him lanky and gnarly and ridden with pox, moth ridden and sequestered indoors. Hanging on to life to keep anyone inheriting his ￡3,000 a year, while she adored life, fresh air, and a powerful ride across the countryside. "He will not suit."

"Grey has nothing but good things to say about the man," Lottie said. "I'm told he is affluent and amiable."

"But ignoble." Couldn't Lottie see the irony? It was deemed scandalous to marry down. "Is he not an Honorable or some such?"

She received a negative shake of the head. "No."

Mama appeared indifferent, offering no further insight. A telltale lift of the corner of her mouth, however, led Augusta to believe that focusing her attention on Mr. Prendergast was a good choice. Whatever the case may be, Mr. Prendergast was the only man she could not define, and she had to admit that made her... curious.

What other qualities did the man have besides ￡3,000 a year?

Decided, she gazed from her mother to her cousin. "As long as Delphi and I can observe these men before introductions are made, we will attend Lady Claremont's ball."

Mama and Lottie exchanged smiles, appearing satisfied.

If only she felt as euphoric. Instead, she mourned what might have been had she been given liberty to speak to the man in the park. Propriety be damned!

An alarming urge to giggle gripped her. Had all this talk about scandals and marriage finally driven her over the edge? Who in their right mind wanted to be called Mrs. Quinton Prendergast?