Page 3 of Marry in Scandal

They heard the rustle of stiff bombazine as Miss Glass stood up. “If that is all, I’ll take my leave of you now, my lord. I have my own arrangements to make.”

The two girls hurried upstairs.

“I’m so sorry, Rose,” Lily began as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Don’t be,” Rose said fiercely. “I’d rather be with you at some horrid school than stay here without you. Papa is a selfish pig. No time for girls indeed!”

“It’s not you, it’s me.” Lily swallowed and forced the words out. “I don’t think Papa loves me anymore.”

Rose put her arms around her. “I’m sure deep down he does, darling. It was just a surprise to him, that’s all. Papa likes to imagine that all Rutherfords are perfect.”

But Lily knew better. The way Papa had looked at her, as if she was a, athing...

As they entered the bedchamber she and Rose shared, her gaze flew to her bride-doll, Arabella, sitting on her bed. Arabella had funny eyes—she’d been dropped once and a piece of her carved wooden eye had broken. Mama had painted the eye in again but it hadn’t quite worked. Arabella always looked a bit cross, but Lily loved her anyway.

An embarrassment to the family. No man will want a wife who can’t read.

Half blinded by tears, Lily pulled off the elaborate, lacy dress Mama had made for Arabella, the little veil ringed with tiny beads to look like pearls. The veil ripped as shetugged it off. She threw the clothes on the floor and dumped Arabella naked on the shelf near the window. She was just a doll, a collection of cloth and painted wood, a stupid make-believething.

Lily and Rose went to bed early that night. Rose had tried to comfort Lily, but Lily was not to be comforted. Everything was horrid; they were going to be sent away from home, and it was all her fault.

She didn’t sleep. Papa’s words kept churning in her head, over and over.

A gleam of moonlight sliced through a gap in the curtains. The clock in the hall chimed two. Lily slipped out of bed. She picked Arabella up and carefully dressed her again.

She smoothed the doll’s carved and painted hair. “Don’t worry, Arabella,” she whispered. “Wewillget married. Papa is wrong. Someone will love us, even if we’re not perfect. I promise.”

Chapter One

Ah! there is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.

—JANE AUSTEN,EMMA

London, 1818

“I have secured a duke for the opera tonight,” Agatha, Lady Salter announced with an air of triumph. Bone thin and immensely elegant, her steely silvery hair intricately coiled, piled high and bound into a kind of turban, she fingered her lorgnette with long fingers and eyed her three nieces with a critical gaze.

Lily Rutherford, Lady Salter’s youngest niece, swallowed. She sat with her sister, Rose, on thechaise longuefacing the old lady. George, technically a great-niece rather than a niece, lounged casually on the armrest of a nearby chair.

“Do dukes sing?” Rose idly twirled her fan. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t be facetious, Rose,” Aunt Agatha snapped. “You know very well why I have arranged this opportunity—it’s for you in particular.” She added, “As well, he is bringing two friends, one of whom—”

She broke off, her eyes narrowed. Lily tensed as the old lady raised her lorgnette. It was a warm day and Lily’s thighs were sticking together, but she didn’t dare move. Aunt Agatha despised fidgeting.

But her gaze came to rest meaningfully on George, whogave the elderly dowager a bland smile in return and stayed where she was, one leg swinging in an unladylike manner.

“Georgiana! Are you wearingbreechesunder that habit?”

George shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “We’re just back from our morning ride.”

The old lady closed her eyes in a heaven-help-me expression, muttered something under her breath, took a deep breath and continued, “As I said, the duke is bringing two of his friends, and one of themmightbe interested in you, Georgiana—thoughnotif you sit like that! Or wear breeches. No gentleman of taste—”

“And one of them might be interested in Lily.” Rose smiled warmly at her sister.

Aunt Agatha glanced at Lily. “Perhaps,” she said dismissively. She raised her lorgnette and raked it critically over the person of her youngest niece.

Lily, knowing what was coming, sucked in her stomach and held her breath. But it did no good.