Lily envied George’s cool assurance. Despite her refusal to buckle under Aunt Agatha’s insistence, Lily was shaking in her shoes. And trying desperately not to show it.
“How clever of you to secure a duke, Aunt Agatha,” Rose said quickly. “Which duke would that be?” Oil over troubled waters. Not Rose’s usual approach.
Aunt Agatha shot a last vitriolic glance at George and another at Lily, before turning to Rose. “At least one of you appreciates the trouble I go to, to ensure you gels make suitable marriages. The nobleman who will join us in my box tonight is . . . the Duke of Everingham.” She waited as if expecting applause.
Lily said nothing. She’d never heard of the Duke of Everingham, but she knew what he would be like. Since the start of the season Aunt Agatha had been throwing eligible gentlemen at all three girls, and not one of them had looked twice at Lily. Not that Lily wanted them to.
Aunt Agatha had a taste for sophisticated, jaded, rakish gentlemen who invariably looked bored and uttered the kind of witticisms that always had some hidden meaning, a meaning that everyone except Lily seemed to get. She always felt hopelessly out of her depth with Aunt Agatha’s “eligible gentlemen,” and she was sure this duke and his friends would be just the same.
He was, of course, intended for Rose, the eldest of the three of them and the most beautiful. Aunt Agatha was determined that Rose, at least, would become a duchess. Whether Rose wanted it or not. Rose herself was indifferent to marriage and planned to put it off as long as she could. Not that Aunt Agatha knew that.
Lily didn’t reply, George twirled the violets under her nose, inhaling the perfume with a blissful expression, so it was left to Rose, who had no ambition to become a duchess, to make a vaguely appreciative sound.
Aunt Agatha, irritated by their lack of understanding, explained, “Everybody is desperate for Everingham to attend their balls and routs. A hostess is in alt if he so much as condescends to accept an invitation—and even then there’s no guarantee he will turn up. But his mother—to whom I am godmother, Georgiana, a woman who values my advice—has promised faithfully that he will come to the opera tonight, and join us in my box, and bring a couple of friends.”
“How very delightful,” Rose said brightly. “I do so admire a man who does what his mother tells him.” There was a muffled snort from George, and Rose hastily added, “What a shame Lily has a prior engagement. But you set such store on correct behavior, Aunt Agatha, you would surely not wish her to renege on an invitation she has already accepted.”
The old lady’s lips thinned. Her expression showed that she thought nothing of the sort. In her view the opportunity of a duke trumped everything, and good manners depended wholly on the situation.
She directed a basilisk gaze at Lily. “What is this engagement you set so much store on keeping?”
“I’m going to a party with Emm and Cal.”
Aunt Agatha’s thinly plucked brows rose. “The Mainwaring rout?” She gave a contemptuous snort. “An insipid gathering of mediocre nobodies.”
“Emm and Cal are going too,” Lily pointed out. The Earl and Countess of Ashendon, her brother and his wife, were hardly nobodies, and as for being mediocre, well, Cal was magnificent—a war hero. And Emm was a darling—a darling who could parry Aunt Agatha’s horrid stabs without turning a hair. Unfortunately Emm and Cal had gone out for a walk before Aunt Agatha had descended on them.
“Your brother and sister-in-law felt obligated to accept the invitation,” Aunt Agatha corrected her. “Sir George was your brother’s commanding officer at one time. But given Emmaline’s interesting condition, they would have been able to make a token appearance and leave early. However if you attend, Emmaline will be obliged to stay longer.” Her tone suggested that by staying late, the succession of the Earls of Ashendon would be endangered. And if Emm lost The Heir, Aunt Agatha would know whom to blame.
“I don’t mind if we leave early.”
Aunt Agatha sniffed. “Your sister and Georgiana, frivolous as they are, understand a golden opportunity when it is offered to them. They had no difficulty in writing to Lady Mainwaring to make their apologies for this evening. Why can you not do the same?” Her lip curled. “Apart from the obvious.”
“That’s not fair—” Rose began hotly.
Before another argument about her deficiencies could begin, Lily said, “Because I promised someone I’d meet her there. A girl I knew at school.” Rose gave her a curious look, which Lily avoided. “She’s new to London and I said I’d introduce her to some of our friends. I don’t want to let her down.”
It wasn’t exactly true. She hadn’t made a promise, but when Sylvia had asked whether she was going to the Mainwaring rout, she’d said she was. As an excuse to avoid an evening suffering the slings and arrows of Aunt Agatha’s company, it would do.
Aunt Agatha’s brow arched higher. “You would dismiss a duke and his friends for the sake of some gel you knew at school? Pfft! Who is this gel, and who are her people?”
“Nobody of any significance. You won’t have heard of her.” Lily shot Rose a warning glance, a silent plea for her to say nothing.
Rose frowned but remained silent.
Aunt Agatha sniffed. “Why does that not surprise me? You have no ambition, do you, gel?”
“Not much,” Lily admitted. “I just want to be happy.”
“Pshaw! I suppose by that you mean you want to fall in love! Tawdry, sentimental middle-class nonsense! When will you gels learn? Marriage is for position, advantage and land.” The old lady got to her feet. “Since
