“It was made in gest,”Moira mumbled.
“When will you ever learnthat even the slightest remark that can be taken as scandalous isthe only thing society hears? Your sister never behaved this way. She was theperfect, dutiful daughter.”
“I said I wassorry.”
“Well, at least you didn’tfall as far as Lady Philippa.” Her mother shuddered. “That gel willbe lucky if any true gentleman actually considers her thisSeason.”
Moira opened her mouth to point outthat one particular gentleman did seem to take interest but thoughtit wiser to hold her tongue.
“And you had the perfectopportunity to make a good impression on Lord Lydell this evening,but the gentleman couldn’t get away from you quick enough after youspoke.”
“Mother.” Moira stood. “Hewas the other subject of the bet. He only sought me out because heis broke and needs an heiress.”
“There is nothing wrongwith marrying for those reasons.” Her mother poured another glassof wine. “In fact, it is far better to marry on those terms thanfor a silly emotion.”
“What is wrong withmarrying for love?”
Her mother looked up at her, a wave ofpity flashed across her face. “Oh, Moira, please do not tell me youare holding out for love.”
Moira sat back down and played withthe fringe on her shawl. “What is so wrong if I wish that there besome affection?”
“Oh, dear.” Her mothersettled on the seat beside Moira and picked up her hand. “Be happywith your role of providing an heir and a spare and tuck your heartaway. It will only be broken.”
That was the same advice Mother hadgiven Beth, Moira’s older sister. Beth seemed quite content, livingin the country, producing a child approximately ten months afterher husband bothered to visit. Even now Moira’s brother-in-law wasin Town while her sister was not. It was what Moira expected forherself, but not what she wanted. Her sister wanted a marquess anda quiet home in the country. She had her home, and one day herhusband would hold the title. Moira wanted someone to care for her,though she knew the chance of such a union was unlikely, especiallygiven that her brother was an earl and her dowry was embarrassinglylarge.
Her mother set the half-empty glass ofMadeira on the table. “First thing tomorrow, we beginwork.”
“On what?” Moira stilledherself for the answer. It could be anything from a day ofneedlework to a new wardrobe.
“Your hair first. Thatghastly color will not attract any gentleman, especially after theshame you have brought to this family.”
Not my hair again.“I don’t know what you would have me do. Dip myhead in tar?”
“Don’t be cheeky.” Motherfinished off her second glass of Madeira. She never had more thanone glass in an evening.
“There are a number ofremedies, and we will try one after the other until we get itright.”
“If you wish.”
“And those freckles. I’llvisit the apothecary for a salve.”
There weren’t that many, a coupledozen or so, and they were small. Why couldn’t her mother justleave them alone? Hopefully whatever salve her mother found wouldsmell better than the others she’d tried. “Lastly, we are going tobind your breasts.”
Moira sat up. “What?”
“They attract far too muchattention. The wrong kind of attention.” Her mother lifted hereyebrows in a knowing manner, which was lost on Moira. “If you wanta gentleman, youcan’t have those—” she gestured to Moira’s chest “—distractingthem. True gentlemen prefer dainty women. Perhaps we should bindyour hips as well.”
Her mother had now moved beyond anyreason.
“We will discuss the resttomorrow. Off to bed.”
Thank goodness. Moira stood to makeher exit.
“And one morething.”
Moira stopped without turningaround.
“Do not expect to leavethe house for a few days, or longer. Not until this scandaldies.”
Days trapped in the house with hermother? Lord Lydell was beginning to hold some promise. At least hewould leave her alone.
Lord Alston bets Mr. Fiskethree hundred pounds that Mr. Garson,
who does not have an estatenear Bath, will allow himself to be
compromised by Lady MoiraKirkwood and hie off to Scotland within a fortnight.
~ April 20, 1813
Gideon stared at open pageof the betting book. Who the bloody hellwas Mr. Garson? Two gentlemen behind himwere in a heated discussion over a Miss Vandercourt, and Gideonstepped out of the way so they could write their own bet. Hopefullythe one involving Lady Moira would be buried within the pages soonenough.
White’s was overly crowded thisevening. No doubt because they all had invitations to theDavenports’ and preferred to be here instead. Still, it wasn’t asthough it was the only ball in Town. So why the crush?
He shrugged, not overly concerned, andscanned the room for a place to sit. Coming toward him was a younggentleman barely old enough to be out of Harrow. Round face, boyishgrin, and a cravat tied so high and tight it could be used as anoose. Gideon stepped out of the way, but the man halted in frontof him.
“Lord Ainsely, I am Mr.Garson.” He stuck out his hand.
Well, that answered one of hisquestions.
“Mr. Garson.” Gideonnodded in introduction. He really didn’t want to encourage aconversation with the stranger.
“Lydell suggested youcould help me.”
“How is that?”
“By way of an introductionto Lady Moira Kirkwood.”
Gideon looked past Garson for Lydell,who was coming up from behind.
“I don’t see why Lydellcan’t perform the service himself.”
“How would that look?” Theman questioned. “Lady Moira rejected him tonight. Should agentleman be expected to introduce the lady in question to hisreplacement?”
How young was thispup?
“Besides, I won’t talk tothat simpleton again,” Lydell added as he drew up besidethem.
Gideon arched an eyebrow. Lydellapparently did not take rejection well.
“Bath,” Lydell muttered ashe passed Gideon and exited White’s.
“Will you do it, LordAinsely?”
Though every instinct warned Gideon toadvise young Garson to speak with Hearne, he didn’t. “The next timethe three of us are at the same function, I will endeavor toarrange an introduction.”
The man sighed and grinned. His eyeslit as if someone had just given him a treat. “Oh, thank you, LordAinsely. You will not regret this.”
Gideon simply nodded,moving past the young man, already regretting the offer.When did I turn into a blastedmatchmaker?
“Where is Mother?” Nyleasked as he entered the morning room.
Moira looked up from her book. “Shehas gone to the apothecary.”
A look of worry flashed over hisfeatures. “Is
