Page 12

“Can we please leave?” Beatrice asked.

“Leave?” Phineas frowned. “The night isn’t over yet.”

“We did what we came to do, and I would like to start planning my wedding,” Beatrice insisted.

Her father looked at her, but she would not meet his eyes, looking down at her shoes instead.

“I know you don’t want this, Beatrice, but I admire your attitude. There are few men here for your sister to dance with, so I will agree to your request.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice murmured.

“Are you feeling well, my dear?” Letitia asked.

“I will be fine,” Beatrice replied.

She did not know if she would ever be fine again. Not only did her foolish plan fail, but it had made everything much worse. She had no choice but to marry the Baron, and she only hoped that when the Duke cleaned up her mess, there would be no repercussions for her or her family. She could not bear to disappoint her father again.

As they left Pemberton Manor, Hannah took her sister’s hand, a show of solidarity.

I tried. I tried, and I failed. Now, I must live my life in complete and utter sadness.

ChapterFive

Scandals And Propositions

Honeyfield House

“What is the meanin—” Phineas didn’t get to finish the sentence before the coughing and spluttering started.

He had already been making a mess of himself, gobbling up his runny eggs and toast covered in marmalade, leaving small blobs on his chin and shirt, but half a mouthful was now splattered across the table before him.

“Phineas!” Letitia gasped. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning!” Phineas snapped after his coughing fit subsided. “The meaning?” He took the scandal sheets in both hands and waved them in the air. Then, he passed them to his wife, violently tapping on them with his finger. “This is the meaning of it!”

Letitia’s eyes darted from side to side as she read, and her face turned white as a sheet.

Beatrice had not known what to expect, and she still didn’t, but she knew it was not good. She looked down at her plate, hoping that what her parents had read was about someone else. Hannah looked down at her plate, too, not saying a word.

“No,” Letitia moaned, still not revealing what she had read.

The longer it went on, the worse Beatrice felt.

“Well, it is all over,” Phineas hissed. “There is no fixing it now.”

He grabbed the newspaper from his wife and crumpled it, before slamming it down on the table.

The loud thump startled everyone, and Beatrice mustered the courage to look up at her father. She had to face the music sometime, and the sooner she did, the better it might look.

Judging by her father’s reddened face, she did not think the problem would be fixed quickly.

“Under my nose,” Phineas snapped.

Hannah wiped her mouth with her napkin and made to get up from the table.

“No,” he warned. “You disappeared at one point, too, and you look far too guilty, Hannah.”

Hannah sat back down without looking at her father.