Chapter Fourteen

“You were a splendid success at the reception last night,” Izzy told Zo?.

“Yes, everyone I spoke to found you quite, quite charming,” Clarissa added.

“Mm.” Zo? nodded. She’d had very little sleep. He couldn’t have drowned Hamish, surely? And sent Rocinante to the knackers? He was a beast, of course, but surely not that much of one. Or was he?

Oh, why had he come to her party? And how had he come? Who had invited him?

The three sisters had gathered in the summerhouse for a very late breakfast and to discuss the events of the night before. Outside it was cold with a light, misty drizzle, but inside the summerhouse it was surprisingly warm, thanks to Matteo, who had provided each of them with a metal-lined foot warmer, into which hot coals had been shoveled. As well, he had laid out a delectable array of treats for them: a large pot of thick, delicious hot chocolate, along with slices of Christmas cake, mince tarts, sweet rolls, almond biscuits and gingernuts, which Clarissa had recently taken to craving.

“And I had so many comments about our identical dresses.” Izzy chuckled. “Some even said they thought we could pass for twins, apart from the fact that I’m a few years older and have given birth to two adorable children. You, however, still have the girlish slenderness I used to have.”

“Izzy! You’re still slender,” Clarissa objected.

Izzy laughed. “Perhaps, but my figure is now more womanly than girlish. The point is, nobody seemed to suspect you weren’t our cousin.”

Matteo came in with a fresh pot of hot chocolate and to inquire whether the ladies were warm enough. He found their desire to sit in the summerhouse bizarre when they had warm houses to go to. But the summerhouse was their special place, and they assured him they were all quite warm enough.

“But please take those plates of cakes and things away,” Clarissa said. “I’ve eaten far too many of them as it is.”

“You’re eating for two, remember,” her sister reminded her.

“Yes, but when things like that are sitting there, under my nose, looking so luscious and delicious, I’m tempted to eat for four,” Clarissa said gloomily, “so please take them away, Matteo.” She resolutely picked up the pomander she’d been making, and started poking cloves into an orange.

After Matteo left, taking the remnants of the feast with him, Izzy turned to Zo? and said, “You’ve said precious little about last night, little sister. It was your night, after all.”

“It was wonderful,” Zo? said. “Everyone was so kind. Thank you again for giving me such a delightful party.”

Izzy and Clarissa exchanged glances. “We’re going to have to drag it out of her,” Clarissa said.

“Drag what out of me?”

“The handsome young man with whom you quarreled—”

“—in French—”

“—in the middle of the dance floor—”

“—while waltzing—”

“—and then kicked,” finished Izzy.

“Oh, him.”

“Yes, him. Not that you would have done much damage with your dancing slippers, but it was a very definite statement in a very public situation. He was the man who accosted me in front of Hatchard’s that time, calling me Vita, remember?” Izzy said. “We discussed him at the time, if you will recall.”

Zo? remembered, all right. She’d hoped they hadn’t.

“Race says he’s Lord Foxton,” Clarissa said. “You didn’t tell us that before.”

“I didn’t know it until last night,” Zo? admitted.

“He called at our house this morning,” Izzy said. “Asking for you. Matteo told him you were not at home. And when Lord Foxton asked when you would be at home, Matteo shrugged and said since you were not a resident of the house, he had no idea.” She chuckled.

“And then he called at our house,” Clarissa said, reaching for more cloves, “and Hobbs told him that nobody of that name lived there and advised him to try elsewhere.”

Zo? sighed. “He also called at Lady Scattergood’s, and Treadwell said—in that way he has, like squashing a beetle—‘Lady Scattergood and any guests she may have are not at home to gentlemen callers. Ever.’?” She mimicked his ponderous tone, and the others laughed.

“Now stop feeling guilty about this, Zo?,” Izzy said. “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

“But clearly there is more between you than you suggested,” Clarissa said. “At least he seems to think so. Not to mention that kick.”

Yes, that kick. Zo? wished now she hadn’t done it. Of course people would be talking about it. Only she’d been so furious at what he’d said about Rocinante and Hamish. She couldn’t believe he’d done it—he was such a liar—but she wasn’t sure.

But if he wanted to talk to her, why had he told her something he must know would upset her? The man was infuriating.

“Perhaps it would help to talk about it,” Clarissa finished.

Zo? wasn’t sure. She’d almost managed to put him out of her mind—for some of the time, at least—but his reappearance had thrown her thoughts and emotions into turmoil. As for that waltz…it had awakened all the wonderful sensations she’d experienced in his arms that night when they’d made love. She knew he was an unprincipled rat, cheating poor farmers to benefit himself, but it seemed her body didn’t care about that. It had no conscience. It just wanted him.

But her sisters were right. And they were more experienced than she was in this sort of thing. “All right. I didn’t tell you the whole truth when I told you about our time together.”

Izzy leaned forward in her chair. Clarissa put her half-completed pomander aside. Zo? began, “When I first met him—oh!” she broke off as the door flew open with a crash. Milly, their irritating neighbor, stood in the doorway, panting, damp and disheveled.

“Good afternoon, Milly,” Izzy said tersely. “I suppose you have a good reason for bursting in on us like this?”

Milly didn’t answer. She just stared at each one of them in turn. Zo? watched her, a slight frown on her face.

After a few moments, in which Milly had neither moved nor spoken, Clarissa said gently, “Is everything all right, Milly?”

“I’m betrothed.” The words burst from her.

“Finally,” Izzy muttered. She and Clarissa offered routine congratulations, but Zo? wasn’t sure congratulations were in order. “Who to, Milly?” she asked.

Milly swallowed. “To a m-m-marquess.” Which was the kind of grand title her mother had been aiming for all along. So why did Milly look so…appalled? Overwhelmed? And not in a good way.

“Which marquess, Milly?” Zo? asked.

“The M-Marquess of Blenkinsop.”

Izzy and Clarissa exchanged horrified glances. “Blenkinsop?” Clarissa said carefully. “You mean—?”

“That ghastly old man who looks like a desiccated spider and talks to everyone’s bosoms!” Izzy said, and Milly nodded.

“But he must be eighty, at least,” Clarissa said.

“No. Only seventy-eight,” Milly said, and burst into tears.

They pulled out handkerchiefs and let her cry it out. When finally the sobs slowed and she was encouraged to wipe her eyes, blow her nose and have some still-warm hot chocolate, they tried to talk to her.

“Nobody can make you marry him,” Izzy said briskly. “So just say no.”

Milly shook her head. “Mama will make me. You don’t know her.”

Izzy said firmly, “You just need to explain to her how you feel. She can tell the marquess, you wouldn’t even have to speak to him.”

Milly’s tears started again. “She won’t. She’s completely thrilled by this.”

“She can’t be, not to a man who’s nearly four times your age,” Zo? said.

But Milly was completely fatalistic. “Mama is delighted. She said his age is an advantage.”

“Why, because he’ll die soon and you’ll be a rich widow?” Zo? said bluntly.

Milly started to nod, then shook her head, but the others were not deceived.

“Is he hoping for an heir?” Clarissa asked. “Didn’t his wife die last year after years of being married?”

Milly nodded. “Yes, and he’s going to try again…with me.” She shuddered. Tears rolled down her cheek.

“He could live to a hundred,” Zo? said with brutal honesty, “and that’s twenty years of having a spidery old man groping and slobbering over you in his bed.”

Milly shuddered. “Oh, please don’t. I can’t bear to think of it.”

“If you can’t even bear to think of it, you can’t possibly want to marry this appalling marquess,” Zo? said firmly. “So tell your mama you refuse.”

“I t-t-tried,” Milly wailed. “But she took no notice. She’s thrilled to bits. He is everything she’s ever wanted for me. He’s obscenely rich—”

“He’s obscene,” Zo? muttered.

“—with several huge properties scattered around the country. And he’s a marquess, which is almost as good as a duke.”

There was a short silence, broken only by Milly’s snuffles.

“If your mama loves him so much, she should marry him,” Zo? said.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Milly snapped.

“Actually, it’s not so ridiculous,” Izzy said thoughtfully. “I bet the marquess enjoys leering at your mama’s bosom quite as much as he does yours. In fact, her bosom is even bigger. He could marry her, and then everyone would be happy.”

“Marry Mama?” Milly said, shocked. “But he wants an heir .”

“Leaving it a bit late, isn’t he?” Izzy said sardonically.

“You don’t understand. Mama told me his late wife was unable to bring a child to term.” Milly added in a whisper, “She had several miscarriages.”

Clarissa leaned forward. “Your mother is still young enough to have a baby.”

Milly stared at her. “She is not!”

“She is,” Izzy agreed. “Didn’t she give birth to you when she was seventeen?”

Milly nodded.

“And you’re twenty now, which means she’s only thirty-seven.”

“And with proven fertility,” Clarissa added. “Lady Tarrant was almost forty when she gave birth to little Ross, Lord Tarrant’s heir. And she’s expecting another baby soon.”

Milly stared at them for a few minutes, as if considering it, and then dolefully shook her head. “No, Mama would never agree to it.”

Exasperated at the girl’s fatalism, Zo? said, “How do you know if you don’t try?”

Milly just looked at her. “You don’t know Mama. The marquess is everything she ever dreamed of for me, and besides—”

“Forget your mama’s dreams—he’s going to be your nightmare,” Zo? said brutally. She sat back, watching as Clarissa and Izzy tried to encourage Milly to stand up to her mother. She never would, Zo? thought. Not without a good reason. Which, Zo? thought, she had—if she could only be forced to admit it.

“What does your gentleman friend say about all this?” she threw casually into the conversation.

Milly blanched, then blustered, “What gentleman friend? I don’t have a gentleman friend.”

“Yes, you do.” Zo? grinned. “I’ve seen you with him in Hatchard’s.”

“You haven’t. I mean, I don’t have a gentleman friend, so you can’t possibly have seen—”

“I have,” Zo? insisted. “And also in that little park at the end of the street, the one where Jeremiah walks Lady Scattergood’s dogs. You were holding hands.”

“Holding hands with a footman! I would never —”

“Not Jeremiah, your gentleman friend.”

There was a short, defeated silence.

“Not up to Mama’s standards, is he?” Zo? said gently.

“He’s a cit,” Milly said in despair.

Zo? wrinkled her brow. “A what?”

“Not one of the ton,” Clarissa explained. “No title, and he works for a living.”

“He’s actually quite well off,” Milly said defensively. “He owns a very nice house and he has several prosperous businesses. And his father is a wealthy manufacturer. But Mama said he was impossible.”

“But you like him.”

“Oh yes,” Milly said.

“And he likes you?”

Blushing, she nodded. “He asked Mama for my hand—twice—but she was furious and said it was impossible, that she would not contemplate such a frightful mésalliance. She sent him away and told me I must put him out of my mind. And she brought me to London.”

“How old is this cit?” Izzy asked.

“Twenty-eight. His name is Thaddeus.”

“Has he married anyone else since you came to London?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

She blushed and pulled from her reticule a crumpled letter, damp and blotched with tearstains. “He—he writes to me. At the address of my maid’s mother.”

Zo? clapped her hands. “You sneaky thing! Well done, Milly! And do you write back?”

Milly bit her lip. “I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Of course you should have, and now he’s come to London, which couldn’t be more perfect,” Zo? said. “The solution is obvious. You must marry Thaddeus.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t.”

“It’s a very simple choice,” Izzy said firmly. “You can marry the horrid old spider, making your mother delirious with delight and yourself utterly miserable, or marry the man you care for and make yourself—and him—happy.”

“He’s quite good-looking, too,” Zo? said.

“Oh, do you think so?” Milly began eagerly, and then caught herself up. “But there’s no point in even thinking about it. It would never work.”

“It could if you wanted it to,” Zo? told her.

“No, Mama wouldn’t even consider it. She’d be utterly furious with me.”

“There are worse things than making your mama angry,” Zo? pointed out.

Milly just shook her head. She’d never stood up to her mother in her life.

“Sometimes you have to make things happen,” Clarissa said gently. “You can’t just sit around wishing and hoping.”

“And being miserable,” Zo? added.

Milly sighed, her whole body drooping in defeat.

“Twenty years of having an ancient, spidery, toothless old man slobbering over your nubile naked body every night,” Zo? said meditatively. “Think about that. And all because of the want of a little courage.”

Milly stared at her. Her face crumpled. “I hate you, Zo? Ben-whahhhh,” she wailed, and rushed away.

The three of them sat, looking at one another. It was a ghastly situation, they were united on that, but Clarissa put it best: “If she’s not prepared to help herself, what can any of us do?”

It was a depressing thought. None of them were particularly fond of Milly: she’d been a thorn in their side for more than three years. But as irritating as she often was, she didn’t deserve this.

Later that afternoon, when Matteo came to collect the used dishes from the summerhouse, he brought with him a note. “Lord Foxton, he come back and give me this. Is for the young signorina.” He looked at Izzy. “Milor’, he say not to admit the gentleman to the house, but he say nothing about notes. Is all right if I give?”

“Yes, it’s fine,” Izzy told him. “Give it to her.”

Zo? took the note cautiously. It was sealed and addressed to Miss Zo? Beno?t. She thanked Matteo and hovered impatiently while he packed up the dishes and cups. She wanted to rip the note open and read it straightaway, but the eyes of her sisters were bright, expectant and curious, and she didn’t want to read it with an interested audience watching, even a loving audience. “I’ll take this inside to read. It’s, um, it’s getting a bit cold in here anyway. I’ll see you both later.”

She hurried across the garden and entered Lady Scattergood’s house via the back door, as usual, then swiftly ran up the stairs to her bedchamber.

She broke the seal and opened the note.

My dear Miss Beno?t,

I am writing to apologize for embarrassing you on the dance floor last night. You were right in refusing to discuss our past together in such surroundings. It was discourteous of me to insist. There are, however, matters—important matters—that you and I need to discuss in private. Last night’s brief conversation revealed several misunderstandings that I would dearly like to have cleared up.

I would be most grateful if we could please meet—at a time and place of your choosing. You may communicate with me at the address below.

Yours very sincerely,

Julian Fox, Earl of Foxton

Below that was an address, and below that, in a hastily added, bolder, much less tidy script was:

Please, Vita, I beg of you, meet me.

She read it through swiftly the first time, then again, pondering the phrasing and the intent behind each word.

It started quite formally. The apology was acceptable, but as for the rest…What were these important matters? She wasn’t going to give her precious painting back, and she’d made that clear. And she certainly wasn’t going to compensate him for taking it.

In any case, now that she was in London, there was almost nowhere she could go to be private. Lady Scattergood wouldn’t let him in the house, and from the sound of things, neither would Leo or Race.

Was there any point at all in talking to him? It would just stir up her emotions again. Though who was she trying to fool? Her emotions had boiled up and threatened to swamp her the moment she’d paused on the stairs and spotted him staring up at her.

And now that her sisters were involved…They seemed to know, somehow, that she had feelings for him, feelings she didn’t want to have. She could tell they were eager for her to continue her acquaintanceship with Reynard. Lord Foxton. They thought him handsome and charming—and he was, but that wasn’t all he was.

They didn’t know, and she didn’t want to tell them, that he was a cheat and a swindler. And she really didn’t want them to know she had spent the night with him.

Or what a magical night it had been.

Before she woke the next day and the scales had fallen from her eyes.

Breaking her heart.

She glanced at the note again and sighed. For two pins she’d toss it in the fire. But if she did that, he would only keep trying to find ways of speaking to her. And the more he did, the more likely it was to start gossip.

No, she would have to meet him and hear him explain those so-called misunderstandings.

But where could she talk to him in private? She ran her mind through some possibilities, but almost all of them involved her being with someone who’d chaperone her. Unless…

She fetched a pen and ink and wrote a note, suggesting he meet her in Hyde Park at five that afternoon, driving an open carriage. He could take her up in the carriage and drive around the park without causing scandal, just a little gossip. They would be under everybody’s eye but could still speak in private: it was perfectly comme il faut .

She sealed the note. How to deliver it? Jeremiah, Lady Scattergood’s young footman, might do it, but she didn’t want to get him into trouble. No, his note had come via Matteo, so the reply could go the same way.

She ran lightly down the stairs and hurried out the back door, cutting through the garden to Leo and Izzy’s house. As she passed the summerhouse, a movement caught her eye and she glanced inside. And saw a hunched figure sobbing.

She entered. “Milly, what is the matter?”

Milly looked up, utterly woebegone. Her eyes were red and puffy with tears, and her left cheek was red and swollen.

“Milly,” Zo? exclaimed. “Did someone hit you?”

Milly nodded, gulping back tears. “Mama.”

“Your mother hit you?” Zo? could hardly believe it. Milly’s mother had always been such a doting parent. She sat down and took Milly’s hand. “What happened?”

Between sobs, Milly explained. “The marquess came calling, you know, to make the betrothal formal. And he—he kissed me. And it was awful, Zo?. He has terrible breath and he put his tongue…his tongue…”

“I understand.”

“And then he put his hand down inside my dress and…squeezed my breasts and…”

“I understand,” Zo? said soothingly. She could just imagine it, the horrid, creepy old spider.

“And so I remembered what you said, and when he left I—I told Mama I couldn’t bear it and that I didn’t want to marry him, and—and—and that’s when Mama slapped me. Hard—it really hurt.”

Seeing her swollen face, Zo? could believe it.

“Mama has never hit me before, never. So it just goes to show.”

Zo? wasn’t sure what it showed, except that Mama was ruthlessly ambitious.

“And when I stopped crying, Mama explained all that she had lost when she’d been forced to marry Papa. Mama said that though he was not precisely a cit, Papa was no aristocrat. And she, second cousin to a duke!” Milly wiped her eyes and blew soggily into the handkerchief.

“So then I understood. Mama had married beneath her and regretted it all her life. She said that she would marry me into the circle to which she belonged if it killed her!”

More like if it killed Milly, Zo? thought.

“I’d never before heard her talking like that about Papa. I loved my papa. He was kind and gentle, and he always had time to listen to me. And he tried to give Mama everything she wanted, but it was never enough. When he died, Mama sold everything so she could afford the house in Bellaire Gardens and everything she and I needed for my Season. But it’s taken three Seasons to get a suitable offer for me. Three Seasons! It’s all so terribly expensive, but I didn’t realize. So this is my last chance because most of the money is gone. She said if I didn’t marry the marquess, we would both be h-h-homeless! And destitute!”

“Not homeless, surely?” Zo? said. “You will still have your house.”

“It’s rented,” Milly wailed.

It was a ghastly situation, but Zo? couldn’t help but think there must be a way out for Milly. Recalling her note to Reynard, she told Milly to wait there while she ran across to Izzy’s house. “There is a note I must send. But I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Oh, I have one, too. Could you send this one for me please?” Milly drew out a crumpled, tear-blotched note and passed it to Zo?.

She glanced at the address. “Thaddeus Henshaw. Is that the fellow you’ve been meeting?”

Milly nodded. “It’s to tell Thaddeus I’m going to marry the marquess.” And she burst into sobs again.

“Wait here,” Zo? said, taking the damp missive, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“You won’t tell Mama?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I won’t.”

Zo? returned in about ten minutes with Izzy and Clarissa. She’d filled them in about Milly’s situation. Clarissa had come armed with some soothing cream for Milly’s bruised cheek.

“Did you send my letter to Thaddeus?” Milly asked.

“Not yet.”

“But I must tell him to give up all hope of me.”

“No, you must not!” Zo? said impatiently. “Why should you sacrifice your life for your mother’s stupid pretensions?”

Milly shook her head dolefully. “I must. Mama has given everything to me, spent all her money so that I might marry well.”

“No, she has spent her money so that you could fulfill her own vain ambitions,” Zo? declared. “She doesn’t give a fig for your happiness, Milly. If she had, you could have been married long since, but no, even your suitors with titles weren’t good enough for her. And now she has dredged up this ghastly old spider and expects you to marry him and allow him to maul you all he wants.”

Milly blinked at her, her eyes full of tears.

Zo? softened her voice. “You should see to your own happiness, Milly. Marry this Thaddeus of yours and leave your mama to deal with the marquess.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could if you cared about Thaddeus.”

“I do. I love him. And he loves me. He has said so, often.”

“Well then, what is it that woman in Shakespeare said? ‘Screw your courage to the sticking point and you’ll not fail’?”

“Kill Mama?” Milly said, horrified. “I couldn’t possibly do such a wicked thing.”

“Who said anything about killing her?” Zo? said, bewildered.

“You did! That’s what that speech by Lady Macbeth is about—murder. Mama and I saw the play.”

Zo? shook her head. “I don’t know about that—it was just part of a speech that Lady Scattergood made me read to her one day—she’s taken to having improving pieces read to her. I just meant you should be brave and do what you really want to do—run off with your Thaddeus.”

“You mean to Gretna Green? Oh, I couldn’t. It would be a terrible scandal, and Mama would be—”

“Foaming at the mouth and trying to find a way to make the best of it. While you’ll be far away, blissfully married to your Thaddeus.” She could see the image appealed to Milly.

“Besides, it doesn’t have to be Gretna,” Izzy added, seeing Milly’s doubt. “Thaddeus could get a special license and marry you in a church, right here in London.”

Clarissa frowned. “But she won’t be old enough to marry without her mama’s permission, will she?”

Izzy turned back to Milly. “When do you turn one-and-twenty?”

“In three weeks.”

“That’s it, then. All you have to do is to wait three weeks and then you can marry whoever you want.”

Milly shook her head. “No, Mama wants me married quickly. She knows I don’t want to do it, so she’s making arrangements for the marquess to marry me in ten days’ time. The notice will be in the newspapers tomorrow.”

“Then you must elope,” Zo? said. “Tell this Thaddeus of yours to arrange it.”

Milly’s eyes widened in horror. “To Gretna Green? I won’t! I couldn’t! It would be too, too shameful.”

Zo? rolled her eyes, but Clarissa leaned forward excitedly. “No, no, of course you won’t need to flee to the border. We’ll hide you for the next three weeks, then, when you’re one-and-twenty, you can marry your Thaddeus.”

Milly blinked. “ Hide me?”

Clarissa nodded. “That’s how Izzy and I defeated our horrid father when we were children. He didn’t want Izzy to live with me, but I hid her for, oh, weeks, until he eventually gave up.”

Izzy nodded. “It’s a good idea.”

Milly looked doubtfully around the summerhouse. “But where would I hide? Here? She’d find me for sure.”

“Not here. In one of our houses,” Izzy said, then grew thoughtful. “Leo would allow it, I’m sure, but he wouldn’t like it, and I wouldn’t ask him to compromise his principles.”

“She could stay with Race and me,” Clarissa said.

“No, her mother’s house is only a couple of doors away. It’s too risky,” Izzy said. “But you could stay with Zo? at Lady Scattergood’s. I’m sure she’d allow it.”

“With that crazy old lady?” Milly exclaimed.

“She’s not crazy, just slightly eccentric,” Zo? said crossly. “And she’s probably going to save you from marriage to the creepy old spider, so you’d better develop a little respect. And show some gratitude.”

“Yes, as soon as she finds out that you’re being forced into an unwilling marriage, she’s sure to agree,” Clarissa said.

“And your mother would never think of looking for you there,” Zo? said on a rallying note.

“So that’s settled,” Clarissa said brightly. “We’ll go and ask Lady Scattergood now.”

As predicted, when they asked Lady Scattergood whether they could hide Milly from her mother, who was trying to make her marry a man she didn’t like, she was initially delighted. “No gel should be forced into marriage,” she declared, but when she learned Milly had plans to marry a different man—a cit—she hesitated.

She raised her lorgnette. “Wealthy, is he?”

“Yes.”

“Good, that’s good. And he’ll be going abroad soon, won’t he?”

Milly looked puzzled. “N-no, not that I know of.”

Lady Scattergood frowned at that. “Then where is he going?”

Milly threw a helpless glance at Zo?. “Sheffield?”

The old lady pondered that a moment, swinging her lorgnette back and forth on its string while she considered it. “Oh well, abroad would be better, but I suppose Sheffield is far enough.”

Confused, Milly looked at Zo?, who could see she was about to ask “far enough for what,” and jumped in, saying, “Milly’s mother has arranged for her to marry the elderly Marquess of Blenkinsop.”

Lady Scattergood stiffened, outraged. “You mean to say That Woman is planning to wed a young gel like you to a terrible old lecher like Arthur Blenkinsop? Why, he’s practically old enough to be my father, and I’m no spring chicken.”

It turned out she’d known the marquess in her youth, when he was still the Blenkinsop heir. “Tell me, my dears, does he still talk to ladies’ bosoms? I was more abundantly endowed when I was a gel, and I often had to rap him hard with my fan on the knuckles—and on the nose several times when it threatened to delve right into my neckline—and point out to him that I was up here.” She pointed to her face. They all laughed, and Milly confirmed that he did indeed talk to her bosom and to Mama’s.

And thus Lady Scattergood gave her enthusiastic approval for the plan to hide Milly in her house. She sent the girls off to help Milly settle in and rang for her butler to give him the appropriate instructions.

Ensconced in a cozy upstairs sitting room, they then decided she should write a short note to her mother, explaining that she was very upset by her mother’s response, reiterating that she refused to marry the Marquess of Blenkinsop and that she was staying with a friend and Mama was not to worry. Izzy added, “And tell her not to make a fuss or tell anyone, as she wouldn’t want to make a scandal, would she?”

When the note was finally finished, with many pauses and worried hesitations and scratchings out and more tears, Izzy rose and plucked it out of Milly’s hand, saying, “I’ll have this anonymously delivered to your mother, Milly, which should at least minimize the fuss she is bound to make. Now I have some calls to make, so we will leave you to get settled in.” She glanced at her sisters. “Meet back here later this evening?”

“But I can’t just stay here,” Milly said worriedly. “I don’t have anything, no nightdress or—or anything. And Mama will be worried.”

“That’s the point,” Zo? said.

“And don’t worry about clothes—we’ll provide you with whatever you need,” Clarissa assured her. With Milly being on the plump side, Clarissa would be the best source of clothing.

Izzy glanced at the clock on the overmantel. “Zo?, didn’t you say you wanted to walk in the park at five? It’s almost that now.”

“Oh good heavens, yes.” She’d told Reynard she would meet him there at five. She jumped to her feet. “I have to leave now. Izzy, could you send the carriage around to the front and pick me up, please? I’ll need to put on my warm pelisse and hat.”

“But what about me?” Milly wailed.

“Don’t worry, we’re not abandoning you,” Clarissa said soothingly. “I’ll stay here and help you get settled in. We need to make a list of what you might need. And think about writing a longer letter to your mama. Oh, this is going to be so exciting.”

“I suppose so,” Milly said dolefully.