Page 3 of A Hint of Scandal (The Mismatched Lovers #2)

T wenty-two-year old Serafina Gilbert was seated, as usual, furthest from the parlor fire and closest to the wintry draught that was inevitably finding its way in through both the sash windows and the heavy curtains that covered them. Ignoring the chill, she raised her eyes from her sewing to regard the rest of her family.

Araminta, Lady Gilbert, the wife of her half-brother Ogden, was holding forth as she was wont to do, her insistent voice enough to quell to silence anyone who tried to interject a word. “I know it isn’t yet Christmas, Ogden, and you think it’s early to be discussing Letitia’s debut in society, but she’ll be eighteen in January, and we need to plan ahead.”

In fact, her whole appearance was enough to subdue all others in her presence, especially Ogden, who had long given up any pretense of resistance. She was a woman who Serafina remembered as once having been good looking, until her quest and winning of the seat of power in the Gilbert family had rendered her shrewish and hard-faced. She ruled her family with a rod of iron, and Serafina was used to keeping below the parapet where her sister-in-law was concerned. She’d long ago learned that antagonizing her was a terrible idea.

Ogden, whose whole demeanor shouted hen-pecked, but whose renowned parsimoniousness had nurtured that same characteristic in a wife who had taken it to the extreme, tweaked his side whiskers in the nervous habit he’d not had before he met Araminta. “Of course, my dear. But do think of the expense. Taking a house for the whole Season will prove an exorbitant outlay. Not to mention the gowns she’ll require. Just for one girl.”

“I have indeed been weighing up the expense,” Araminta replied, her voice managing to be both tart and dismissive as well as smug and self-assured. “And with Letitia’s outstanding good looks, I believe equipping her with the wardrobe she deserves will be money well spent. We will see a desirable return on our investment when she carries off the most sought after gentleman of the Season. I foresee her capturing the attention of earls and dukes, no less.”

Letitia, their oldest child, who was ostensibly as industriously employed as her young aunt, raised her head slightly and caught Serafina’s eye. She gave her a quick, triumphant, I-told-you-so smile, her blue eyes glittering with scarcely bridled excitement.

It had been Letty’s idea to suggest a Season in London to her mother, and for this she’d engaged Serafina’s support. This had been the easy part, as Serafina was fond of her numerous nieces and nephews and always happy to be of help to them, even if it involved running errands or putting up with discomfort on her own part. After all, she had no one else on whom to lavish her love and attention. So she’d taken no persuading to sing Letty’s praises to Araminta, putting the idea into her sister-in-law’s head that, with such looks, her oldest daughter could be the toast of the Season.

Which was quite true. Letty, despite her parentage, had recently blossomed into a true beauty, leaving behind the gawkiness of her youth. With just the rich russet hair of her grandfather, the late Sir George Gilbert, and the delicate features of his first wife, her grandmother, she would have been striking indeed. But her wide blue eyes, which hid an inner core of determination, lifted her appearance to the level of outstanding. Where she’d inherited the eyes from, no one knew. They must have come from some much more distant ancestor, as they were not to be seen amongst the portraits hanging on nearly every wall at Milford House. The Gilberts had been in residence there in Berkshire for hundreds of years, with a propensity for every member of their family sitting for portraits, so it was likely the blue eyes, had they been present, would have been recorded for posterity.

“Just so, just so,” Ogden muttered. He was sitting with his feet on the fender of the blazing fire, a necessity in this house if you wanted to be remotely warm in winter, and his face, already somewhat choleric from his daily intake of large quantities of port, had achieved a ruddy glow. “I do admit that it would be most pleasing were Letitia to ally our family with a gentleman of note. As you say, my dear, an earl, perhaps, or even a duke. With her looks, I think I would prefer a duke. She should be instructed to turn down any lesser offers.” He chortled to himself as though he were already the father of a duchess.

Letty, under cover of her sewing, waggled her delicate auburn eyebrows at Serafina.

Serafina bit her lip and stitched with increased ardor. As usual, she was employed in mending one of her little nephews’ damaged items of clothing. “Your stitches are so neat,” Araminta was wont to say, a sentiment echoed by Letty, who hated mending. “It would be a shame to allow one of the nursery nurses to ruin a garment with their clumsy sewing.” So Serafina inherited all the mending for the five Gilbert children, as well as having to darn and repair her own limited wardrobe. Ogden didn’t believe in buying new if old could be mended, even for his brood, and still less for his bothersome half-sister with whom he’d been burdened since she was six years old.

“A duke indeed,” Araminta said, puffing out her chest as though a duke had already made her daughter an offer and she were responsible for Letty’s looks. Which she wasn’t, as nothing about Letty’s beauty spoke of who her mother was.

Letty and Serafina exchanged glances again, and Letty gave a little nod. “Might I make a request, do you think? If I am to be allowed a presentation into society in the new year?”

Her parents’ heads swiveled to regard her, surprise on their faces as though they’d forgotten the subject of their conversation was present in the room with them. Araminta’s cold eyes narrowed. “It very much depends on what it is.” Never one to commit herself.

Serafina lowered her gaze to her sewing, her heartbeat quickening. If she could have crossed her fingers, she would have, but she didn’t want to give Araminta the opportunity to berate her for lack of industry.

Letty visibly heaved in a breath and sat up straighter. How brave she was, especially when her own comfort was involved. “Might Serafina be allowed to accompany me? I should be much more confident with her present, as you know how timid I can be.”

Silence fell. “Serafina?” her mother repeated, as though she were wondering to whom Letty was referring.

Serafina dared a peep at her and nearly stabbed her finger with her needle. That wouldn’t do at all. If Araminta saw a spot of blood on the sewing she’d be furious.

Letty nodded, patting her immaculately arranged hair. “Yes. Serafina. She is by far the best at doing my hair for me, and always knows what color suits me best. Her judgement and taste are perfect. She’s far more a help to me than Roberts ever is. And she’s been practicing with all the newest styles from my magazines, as I asked her. So I should be very much à la mode without any need for extra expense.”

A masterly move to point out a saving of money to her parents.

“That’s all very well,” Araminta said, her upper lip curling in obvious distaste, as it did so often where Serafina was concerned. “But if Serafina comes to London with us, she will need at least one new gown as well. She can’t very well go out in society in the drab things she wears here at Milford.” Her expression belied her words. No doubt she’d be quite happy to send Serafina off in her patched and mended gowns if she possibly could. But apart from being as parsimonious as a church mouse, Araminta possessed a keen awareness of what others thought of her. Thank goodness.

“Gowns for her as well as Letitia?” Ogden’s voice rose. “Impossible. Can’t afford the expense and it would be wasted on her, anyway. Look at her. Plain as a pikestaff. Be like dressing up a broom handle. She has the misfortune to look just like her mother.”

Serafina, biting back a reply in defense of her mother, who had died when she was less than a year old but whose portrait, hidden in a shadowy corner of the house, she liked to visit, swallowed her nerves down and looked up to meet her brother’s eyes. “I have the money Papa left me. I could pay for the gowns myself.”

This was a moot point. Sir George had indeed left her a lump sum of two thousand pounds, a veritable fortune, and a fact she’d only discovered lately and by chance, as he’d died when she was only six and too young to be told such things. Back then, Ogden, freshly married and also newly a new father, which event had been followed almost immediately by being installed in the baronetcy, had taken control of her money, for “safe keeping.” Serafina had yet to see a penny of it, even though she’d turned twenty-one more than a year ago.

Ogden harumphed. “That’s as may be, but my father didn’t intend for you to fritter it away on frills and furbelows. He knew what girls are like and entrusted it to me to take care of.” He cleared his throat. “And it stays with me until we can find you a man foolish enough to take you as a husband.”

“Ridiculously unlikely,” Araminta added. “No one would be desperate enough to want her. And besides which, she’s lost what bloom of youth she ever had. She’s destined to be a spinster all her life.”

Serafina, cheeks blazing, bristled with indignation, experiencing an urge, not for the first time, to leap up and slap her sister-in-law’s prune face. She didn’t, however. The years had lent her caution. Rebellion had not been well received when she’d been an angry, bereaved six-year-old. Punishment had followed swiftly in its wake and Serafina, being an intelligent child, had rapidly worked out how to avoid it.

However, some small measure of protest was called for. She drew in a hesitant breath. “How am I supposed to meet any men while I’m here at Milford House? Whenever you entertain, I’m not allowed to attend. And even if I was, you never invite anyone of my age who might show an interest in me.”

“What perfect nonsense,” Araminta snapped. “A girl like you… an indigent girl… should be grateful for what she has and not have the temerity to complain. Isn’t that right, Ogden? She’s beholden to us for taking her in after your father died. Without a mother, we could have sent her off to the workhouse, but we didn’t. We showed true Christian kindness by taking her in. She’s only your half-sister, after all, not a true, full-blood relative.”

Serafina ached to point out that she wasn’t an indigent girl now, and she hadn’t been then, and that if they’d only relinquish her two thousand pounds she’d be glad to leave Milford House and make her own way in the world. But for the children, that was, and especially Letty, who, despite her inclination to behave like a spoiled brat, she loved. So instead, she held her tongue on that point.

Letty waded into the fray. “Do say she can come with me. You know how I’ve always loved to have her with me—to fetch and carry for me, and of course to do my hair. I’d be lost without her.”

Her parents regarded her out of sour, pursed mouths, as alike as two peas. For a long moment neither of them spoke.

Serafina held her breath. If she could just get to London, just see what the Season was like, even if it was from the shadows, and if she could make sure dear Letty didn’t choose the wrong man for a husband, she would be content. Although she didn’t agree with Letty’s avowed intent to accept the first man who offered for her in order to get away from her parents. Something that had made Serafina all the keener to keep an eye on her niece.

Ogden patted his potbelly, where his waistcoat buttons were straining in a losing battle to hold him in. “I suppose we could take her with us, if just to please little Letty. And it would be an economy if she were to do Letty’s hair, and yours, too, my dear. I’ve noticed she’s a dab hand at hair. Otherwise we might have to hire another maid who understands the latest fashions.”

“But what about the other children?” Araminta asked, her voice rising in indignation but perhaps suspecting that on this subject she was likely to lose. “Who will look after them while we’re all away?”

Ogden waved an airy hand. “They have a governess, don’t they? Miss Wychwood can look after them perfectly well. Anyone would think there were dozens of them instead of just four. Yes, I think it a good idea of Letitia’s to take Serafina with us. She’ll be very useful. To us as well as Letty.”

Letty shot a triumphant glance at Serafina and bent her head over her sewing. “Thank you, Papa.”

Bedtime at Milford House was always early in the winter months, because neither Sir Ogden nor his wife liked to waste unnecessary money on lighting and heating, even though they were not in the least bit poor. Sir George had left his oldest son comfortably off, as well as a good stipend to his younger son, the Reverend Eustace Gilbert, along with four parishes to administer. As a consequence of their father’s abstemiousness, the children’s bedrooms were never allowed fires, not even when snow covered the ground. As a consequence, when Serafina and Letty retired upstairs that evening, one candle between the two of them, they found their room was icy cold. As usual.

Roberts, Letty’s recently acquired maid, was waiting for them, red-nosed, and already rubbing her hands together to restore the circulation. She bobbed a curtsy as the two young ladies came in.

Serafina shot a warning frown at Letty to abstain from discussion until Roberts had left, and they hurried through their ablutions and undressing into their thick flannel nightgowns. At least Roberts had put hot bricks in the big bed they shared.

As Roberts departed with their dirty water, Serafina blew out the candle, which was meant to last them all week, and snuggled down under the thick blankets with Letty.

“Every time I have to go to bed in the cold,” Letty whispered, “I thank God for you. If it weren’t for you I should have to go to bed by myself every night. And not only would that be much colder, but I’d also be so terribly lonely.”

Letty’s siblings were all much younger than her, and the next one down was Theodore, known as Teddy, who was only twelve. Consequently, she’d grown up with Serafina as her usual playmate as a child, and then as her confidante as she’d grown older.

“I can’t help but think a fire would be nice, though,” Serafina said, with a hint of wistfulness. “I remember when my papa was alive there was always a fire in the nursery.”

Letty shivered. “That was before my mama decreed being warm was spoiling us children and making us feeble. I know she’s my mother, but sometimes I do wonder if she loves us. Little Amy has chilblains on her fingers as if she were the child of one of the poorest of Papa’s farm workers.” Amy, the youngest in the family, was only seven and still slept in the night nursery with Laurence, who was eight and Charlotte, who was ten. No fire in there, either.

Serafina ignored this pronouncement as there was so little she could do about it. “Well done for asking if I could come. That was very brave of you.”

Letty giggled. “I thought they were going to say no, though. And if they did, I was ready to have a fit of the vapors and declare I couldn’t possibly go without my precious Serafina. You know I couldn’t manage without all your help. And besides which, if I’m standing beside you at a ball, I’ll look all the prettier.”

Serafina flinched at this casual insult as she was well-used to Letty’s lack of tact, and besides which, what she’d said was true. She’d had it drummed into her by Araminta that any girl standing beside her would look pretty. And of course, she could forgive Letty anything.

“I’d have loved to have seen their reaction if you’d had to resort to the vapors. Your mama would have had her smelling salts out in a flash.”

“Thank goodness I avoided having to sniff them. They smell awful. I pretended the vapors once before when she was present, and she practically stuffed the bottle up my nose. Horrible. Couldn’t get the smell out of my nostrils for days.”

Serafina giggled too. “All the same, it was very kind of you to stand up for me like that.”

Letty leaned over and planted a kiss on her aunt’s forehead. “Darling Serafina, how could I possibly not stand up for you? You’re my dearest friend and you know I spoke the truth when I said I couldn’t go without you. I’m determined to find a husband and I need you to help me do that. Mama will be no help at all—she just wants me to marry someone with the most important title. Or perhaps with the biggest fortune.” She gave a shiver as if of cold, even though they were now snug in bed. “What I want is a husband who lets his servants light fires in the bedrooms. I think that’s on the top of my list of requirements.”

Serafina smiled in the dark, even though Letty wouldn’t have been able to see her. “An admirable trait in a prospective husband.” She knew better than to criticize Letty’s parents directly, but she was thinking how well Araminta had adapted to Ogden’s penny-pinching ways. Although they had a fire in their own bedroom, of course. The warmest room in the house was always the kitchen, a place Serafina, and then her nieces and nephews, had spent a lot of time in over the years, getting under Cook’s feet.

“And you never know,” Letty whispered. “But we might be able to find you a husband as well.” Although she didn’t sound as though this was more than a sop to instill hope in her aunt.

Serafina shook her head. “You know that isn’t going to happen. Who would want me? I’m twenty-three next year, have no looks to speak of, and no chance of offering my inheritance as an incentive, because your papa will never relinquish it. And besides, if I were to capture some old widower on the lookout for a carer for his motherless children, I might only find myself in a similar situation to the one I’m in here. Beholden to him for everything. And also with, an, er… different obligation I might well be expected to fulfill.” She shivered, but not, this time, from cold. “I almost think I’d rather stay here than do that.”

Letty, who could at times be practical, gave a shrug. “Well, if not a husband, perhaps we could procure you a governess’s employment with a nice family? Where you’d be paid for the duties you perform here for nothing? There’s always that possibility. And if you were employed, and paid, and found you didn’t like your situation, then you could always up and leave and find another one.” She paused. “But only once I’m married. I couldn’t lose you until I’m safely married myself. So you’re not allowed to marry before me.”

One thing you could say about Letty was that she was ever the optimist. “I have no letter of recommendation to show anyone requiring a governess, and I can’t see Ogden or Araminta giving me one. They like having me here at their beck and call to do all the jobs no one else wants to do.”

Letty took her hand. “Stop being such a pessimist. You should do more looking on the bright side, like I do. I can assure you that doing so will improve your mindset. I am convinced that I’ll be married before the end of the Season. To a man who has fires lit in every hearth in his house. All you have to do is think positive thoughts and they’ll come true.”

Serafina frowned, a little concerned at Letty’s blasé view of her possible future. “I’m not precisely a pessimist. More what you might call a realist. We have to face it, Letty. I’m on the shelf. A spinster. Too old and too plain, and lacking any kind of dowry, and no one will want me like that. Besides which, I don’t think I have it in me to fall in love with anyone.”

Letty snorted. “What makes you plain is the way you do your hair, the awful gowns you wear and the sad look on your face all the time. You make nothing of yourself. When we get to London, I’m going to make sure you get a new gown, even if you only get one. And I’ll get Roberts to do your hair for you so you look a bit more attractive. She’s not as good at it as you are, but you can’t do your own by yourself. Trust me, Fina, we’re going to find your handsome prince for you.”