'Can you actually say that the best Winnifred Hathaway deserves is someone like Harrow?'
'Better him,' Kev managed to say, 'than someone like me.'
Although the social season was not yet over, it was agreed that the family would go to Hampshire. There was Amelia's condition to consider-she would be better off in the healthful surroundings-and Win and Leo wanted to see the Ramsay estate. The only question was the fairness of depriving Poppy and Beatrix of the remainder of the season. But they both claimed to be quite happy to quit London.
This attitude was not unexpected coming from Beatrix, who still seemed far more interested in books and animals and romping through the countryside like a wild creature. But Leo was surprised that Poppy, who was candid about wanting to find a husband, would be so willing to depart.
'I've seen all this season's prospects,' Poppy told Leo grimly as they rode through Hyde Park in an open carriage. 'Not one of them is worth staying in town for.'
Beatrix sat in the opposite seat, with Dodger the ferret curled in her lap. Miss Marks had wedged herself in the corner, her bespectacled gaze fixed on the scenery.
Leo had rarely encountered such an off-putting female. Abrasive, pale, her form an accumulation of pointy elbows and angular bones, her character stiff and knotty and dry.
Clearly Catherine Marks hated men. Which Leo wouldn't have blamed her for, since he was well aware of the faults of his gender. Except that she didn't seem to like women very much, either. The only people she seemed to unbend with were Poppy and Beatrix, who had reported that Miss Marks was exceptionally intelligent and could be very witty at times, and she had a lovely smile.
Leo had a difficult time imagining the tight little seam of Miss Marks's mouth curving in a smile. He rather doubted she even had teeth, since he had never seen them.
'She'll ruin the view,' he had complained that morning, when Poppy and Beatrix had told him they were bringing him on their drive. 'I won't enjoy the scenery with the Grim Reaper casting her shadow over it.'
'Don't call her such horrid names, Leo,' Beatrix had protested. 'I like her very much. And she's very nice when you're not around.'
'I believe she was treated very wrongly by a man in her past,' Poppy said sotto voce. 'In fact, I've heard a rumor or two that Miss Marks became a governess because she was involved in a scandal.'
Leo was interested despite himself. 'What kind of scandal?'
Poppy lowered her voice to a whisper. 'They say she squandered her favors.'
'She doesn't look like a woman who would squander her favors,' Beatrix said in a normal voice.
'Hush, Bea!' Poppy exclaimed. 'I don't want Miss Marks to overhear. She might think we were gossiping about her.'
'But we are gossiping about her. Besides, I don't believe she would do… you know, that… with anyone. She doesn't seem at all that sort of woman.'
'I believe it,' Leo had said. 'Usually the ladies most inclined to squander their favors are the ones who don't have any.'
'I don't understand,' Bea said.
'He means unattractive ladies are more easily seduced,' Poppy had said wryly, 'which I don't agree with. And besides, Miss Marks isn't unattractive at all. She's only a bit… stern.'
'And scrawny as a Scottish chicken,' Leo had muttered.
As the carriage passed Marble Arch and proceeded to Park Lane, Miss Marks glued her gaze to the spring floral displays.
Glancing at her idly, Leo noted that she had a decent profile-a sweet little tip of a nose supporting the spectacles, a gently rounded chin. Too bad the clenched mouth and frowning forehead ruined the rest of it.
He turned his attention back to Poppy, pondering her lack of desire to stay in London. Surely any other girl her age would have been begging to finish the season and enjoy all the balls and parties.
'Tell me about this season's prospects,' he said to Poppy. 'Can it be that not one of them holds any interest for you?'
She shook her head. 'Not one. I've met a few whom I do like, such as Lord Bromley, or-'
'Bromley?' Leo repeated, his brows lifting. 'But he's twice your age. Are there any younger ones you might consider? Someone born in this century, perhaps?'
'Well, there's Mr. Radstock.'
'Portly and plodding,' Leo said, having met the porker on a few previous occasions. The upper circles of London were a relatively small community. 'Who else?'
'There is Lord Wallscourt, very gentle and friendly, but… he's a rabbit.'
'Curious and cuddly?' Beatrix asked, having a high opinion of rabbits.
Poppy smiled. 'No, I meant he was rather colorless and… oh, just rabbity. Which is a fine thing in a pet, but not a husband.' She made a project of neatening the bonnet ribbons tied beneath her chin. 'You'll probably advise me to lower my expectations, Leo, but I've already dropped them to the extent that even a worm couldn't squeeze itself beneath my expectations. I must tell you, the London season is a grave disappointment.'
'I'm sorry, Poppy,' Leo said gently. 'I wish I knew a fellow to recommend to you, but the only ones I know are ne'er-do-wells and drunkards. Excellent friends. But I'd rather shoot one of them than have him as a brother-in- law.'
'That leads to something I've wanted to ask you.'
'Oh?' He looked into her sweet, serious face, this perfectly lovely sister who aspired so desperately to have a calm and ordinary life.
'Now that I've been out in society,' Poppy said, 'I've heard rumors.…'
Leo's smile turned rueful as he understood what she wanted to know. 'About me.'
'Yes. Are you really as wicked as some people say?'
Despite the private nature of the query, Leo was aware of both Miss Marks and Beatrix turning their full attention to him.
'I'm afraid so, darling,' he said, while a sordid parade of his past sins swept through his mind.
'Why?' Poppy asked with a frankness he ordinarily would have found endearing. But not with Miss Marks's sanctimonious gaze fastened on him.
'It's much easier to be wicked,' he said. 'Especially if one has no reason to be good.'
'What about earning a place in heaven?' Catherine Marks asked. He would have thought she had a pretty voice, if it hadn't come from such an unappealing source. 'Isn't that reason enough to conduct yourself with some modicum of decency?'
'That depends,' he said sardonically. 'What is heaven to you, Miss Marks?'
She considered the question with more care than he would have expected. 'Peace. Serenity. A place where there is no sin, nor gossip, nor conflict.'
'Well, Miss Marks, I'm afraid your idea of heaven is my idea of hell. Therefore my wicked ways shall happily continue.' Turning back to Poppy, he spoke far more kindly. 'Don't lose hope, Sis. There's someone out there, waiting for you. Someday you'll find him, and he'll be everything you were hoping for.'
'Do you really think so?' Poppy asked.
'No. But I've always thought that was a nice thing to say to someone in your circumstances.'
Poppy snickered and poked Leo in the side, while Miss Marks gave him a stare of pure disgust.
Chapter Thirteen
On their last evening in London, the family attended a private ball given at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Simon Hunt in Mayfair. Mr. Hunt, a railway entrepreneur and part owner of a British locomotive works, was a self-made man, the son of a London butcher. He was part of a new and growing class of investors, businessmen, and managers who were unsettling the long-held traditions and authority of the peerage itself.
A fascinating and rather volatile mix of guests attended the Hunts' annual spring ball… politicians, foreigners, aristocrats, and businesspeople. It was said the invitations were highly sought after, since even the peers who
