Glee turned to her sister-in-law. “And, like you, Mary, Miss Pankhurst has already become quite close to Annie Appleton.”
“Indeed I have. Since coming to Bath my good fortune knows no bounds.”
“Lord Appleton, I am sure, will make a wonderful husband,” Mrs. Steffington said.
Such a comment gladdened Dot. “It strikes me,” she said, regarding Mrs. Steffington, “that your husband and Sir Elvin are vastly different.”
Every person in the chamber broke into laughter. Catherine Steffington laughed so hard tears streamed from her huge blue eyes. “The twins are as dissimilar as a tortoise to a hare.”
“And I daresay your bookish husband is the tortoise,” Glee said.
Catherine Steffington nodded. “Indeed, the scholarly tortoise.”
“I think Miss Pankhurst’s idea of a literary salon sounds delightful,” Mrs. Moreland said. “I’m sure Thomas will enjoy it.”
“My son’s not nearly as shy as Mr. Steffington,” Mrs. James Blankenship said. “I do believe Jonathan might even enjoy reading from his works in front of a room full of admiring friends.”
Dot no longer felt out of place. Every woman here made her feel welcome.
Then the butler entered the chamber and handed Glee three cards at once. “How exciting! All the Appleton sisters have come. That must mean Agnes and Abby are back in Bath.”
Just when Dot was getting comfortable. What would Forrester’s other sisters think of her? Would they be as gracious as Annie?
Her pride was minimally bruised. They’d come to see Glee Blankenship instead of her. And she was soon to be a member of their family.
Her insides fluttered as she watched the doorway. Annie came in first. The second sister looked remarkably like Annie, and of course, they both looked remarkably like Forrester. The third one, though, looked vastly different. She was short and plumper and was possessed of blonde hair. Dot immediately thought of Mrs. Steffington’s comment about the twin brothers being as dissimilar as a tortoise to a hare. That’s how the smaller sister looked compared to Annie and the other one.
Annie’s face brightened when she saw Dot, and she came straight to her. “Your father told us you’d be here! I’m ecstatic that you will finally get to meet my gallivanting sisters—soon to be your sisters.”
The one who looked so much like Annie was Agnes, and the short one, who was also the youngest, was Abby. Agnes not only resembled Annie, she adopted her mannerisms and was possessed of the same graciousness Annie always exhibited—without quite as much exuberance.
“Oh, I declare,” Abby exclaimed upon being introduced to Dot, “she’s much prettier than . . .” She paused for a moment, embarrassed, then recovered and said, “than the women who normally appeal to Timothy!”
Dot could feel the heat climbing up her face. The sisters must have been told—possibly in a letter?—about Dot’s plainness. Thank God her father had averted even more painful humiliation by indulging her with a fine wardrobe and a talented maid to dress her unruly hair.
Still, she felt awkward—even humiliated. Either Forrester or Annie—both of whom she had come to love—must have written about her to their sisters. And what they’d written could not have been flattering.
“That’s a positively wretched thing to say about our brother,” Annie scolded her younger sister. “We hardly know what kinds of women he’s been attracted to since he’s never before deigned to bestow his affections on one. I’m exceedingly proud of the choice he’s made in Miss Pankhurst.”
“But what about Mrs. . .” Abby began but was cut off by a vicious glare from her eldest sister.
“And how, Miss Pankhurst, did you come by the name Dot?” Agnes asked in a smooth attempt to divert attention from the taboo subject of Forrester’s mistress.
Dot could see that the gracious Agnes was like Annie in every way. “It’s actually a shortened form of my given name, Dorothea.” Even her voice trembled. She found herself wanting to cry and desperately trying not to.
“I should have known.” Agnes directed a warm smile on Dot.
“Did you bring your cats today?” Abby asked. “How fortunate you are to possess several.”
More crimson rose to Dot’s face. Had everyone in Bath found her to be a laughing stock? Had Forrester or Annie written with amusement about the crazed newcomer who paraded about the city with her coddled felines?
Now that he had united himself with Dot, did her humiliation extend to Forrester?
How she wished she’d never come here today, never subjected herself to such continued humiliation. If she had never come to Bath, never met Forrester, never strung up herself for ridicule and heartache, she wouldn’t be suffering as she was now. Her life had been so much simpler, so much more comforting back at Blandings.
She couldn’t be angry with Forrester’s youngest sister. She was only voicing what she’d heard about Dot.
All Dot could think of was her powerful desire to race home and weep, away from these pitying glances. She could only barely manage to respond to Abby. “My cats are at home, but you’re welcome to come and meet them. I have four.”
Abby’s youthful face brightened. “That would be delightful.”
“My sisters will come to know you and adore you as much as I,” Annie said to Dot.
“Thank you.” Dot got to her feet. “I must be going now, but before I do I should like to invite everyone in this chamber to come to our house on Friday night for the salon to feature our two scholars, Jonathan Blankenship and Melvin Steffington.”
Annie stood also and turned to the hostess. “I must go as well. I particularly need to speak with Dot, but my sisters will stay.” She glared at her youngest sister.
Dot had not wanted to be with anyone, but the last thing she wanted was to make a scene, especially after reminding everyone of how unfit she was to be in their society. She was even more unfit to be Viscountess Appleton.
Outside, Annie fell into step beside Dot, who was speeding along at a brisk pace. “I must apologize for Abigail. We cannot blame her thoughtless tongue on her youth. She’s always
