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Lady Penwood looked as if she’d swallowed a bad clam, but she nodded nonetheless.
Violet pointedly turned her back on the countess, and said, “I’m sure some members of the ton will consider her a bit shabby, since obviously nobody will be familiar with her family, but at least she will be respectable. After all”—she turned back around and flashed a wide smile at Araminta— “there is that connection with the Penwoods.”
Araminta let out a strange, growling sound. It was all Benedict could do not to laugh.
“Oh, magistrate!” Violet called out, and when he bustled back into the room, she smiled gamely at him and said,  “I believe my work here is done.”
He let out a sigh of relief, saying, “Then I don’t have to arrest anyone?”
“It seems not.”
He practically sagged against the wall.
“Well, I am leaving!” Lady Penwood announced, as if anyone might possibly miss her. She turned to her daughter with furious eyes. “Come along, Posy.”
Benedict watched as the blood quite literally drained from Posy’s face. But before he could intervene, Sophie jumped forward, blurting out, “Lady Bridgerton!” just as Araminta roared, “Now!”
“Yes, dear?”
Sophie grabbed Violet’s arm and pulled her close enough to whisper something in her ear.
“Quite right,” Violet said. She turned to Posy. “Miss Gunningworth?”
“Actually, it’s Miss Reiling,” Posy corrected. “The earl never adopted me.”
“Of course. Miss Reiling. How old are you?”
“One-and-twenty, my lady.”
“Well, that’s certainly old enough to make your own decisions. Would you like to come to my home for a visit?”
“Posy, you may not go live with the Bridgertons!” Araminta ordered.
Violet ignored her completely as she said to Posy, “I believe I will quit London early this season. Would you care to join us  for an extended stay in Kent?”
Posy nodded quickly. “I would be much obliged.”
“That settles it, then.”
“That does not settle it,” Araminta snapped. “She is my daughter, and—”
“Benedict,” Lady Bridgerton said in a rather bored voice, “what was the name of my solicitor?”
“Go!” Araminta spat at Posy. “And don’t ever darken my door again.”
For the first time that afternoon, Posy began to look a little scared. It didn’t help when her mother stalked right up to her and hissed straight in her face, “If you go with them now, you are dead to me. Do you understand? Dead!”
Posy threw a panicked look at Violet, who immediately stepped forward and linked their arms together.
“It’s all right, Posy,” Violet said softly. “You may stay with us as long as you wish.”
Sophie stepped forward and slid her arm through Posy’s free one. “Now we will be sisters truly,” she said, leaning forward  and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh, Sophie,” Posy cried out, a well of tears bursting forth. “I’m so sorry! I never stood up for you. I should have said something. I should have done something, but—”
Sophie shook her head. “You were young. I was young. And I know better than anyone how difficult it is to defy her.”  She threw a scathing glare at Araminta.
“Don’t you speak to me that way,” Araminta seethed, raising her hand as if to strike.
“Ah ah ah!” Violet cut in. “The solicitors, Lady Penwood. Don’t forget the solicitors.”
Araminta dropped her hand, but she looked as if she might spontaneously burst into flame at any moment.
“Benedict?” Violet called out. “How quickly could we be at the solicitors’ office?”
Grinning inside, he gave his chin a thoughtful stroke. ‘They’re not too terribly far away. Twenty minutes? Thirty if the roads  are full.”
Araminta shook with rage as she directed her words at Violet. “Take her then. She’s never been anything to me but a disappointment. And you can expect to be stuck with her until your dying day, as no one is likely to offer for her. I have  to bribe men just to ask her to dance.”
And then the strangest thing occurred. Sophie began to shake. Her skin turned red, her teeth clenched, and the most  amazing roar burst forth from her mouth. And before anyone could even think to intervene, she had planted her fist squarely into Araminta’s left eye and sent the older woman sprawling.
Benedict had thought that nothing could have surprised him more than his mother’s heretofore undetected Machiavellian streak.
He was wrong.
“That,” Sophie hissed, “is not for stealing my dowry. It’s not for all the times you tried to boot me out of my house before my father died. And it’s not even for turning me into your personal slave.”
“Er, Sophie,” Benedict said mildly, “what, then, is it for?”
Sophie’s eyes never wavered off of Araminta’s face as she said, “That was for not loving your daughters equally.”
Posy began to bawl.
“There’s a special place in hell for mothers like you,” Sophie said, her voice dangerously low.
“You know,” the magistrate squeaked, “we really do need to clear this cell out for the next occupant.”
“He’s right,” Violet said quickly, stepping in front of Sophie before she decided to start kicking Araminta. She turned to Posy. “Have you any belongings you wish to retrieve?”