Page 4 of Marry in Scandal
“I see you have failed to follow my advice about the diet that was so effective for Lord Byron, Lily. You’re as fat as ever.”
“Lilyisn’tfat,” Rose flashed angrily. “She’s lovely and rounded and cuddly. But not fat!”
“And besides, shedidtry that dreadful diet,” George said. “For two whole weeks and it made her quite sick for no result. Potatoes drenched in vinegar? Ghastly.”
“A small sacrifice for the sake of beauty,” Aunt Agatha said with all the complacence of a woman who had never had to diet in her life.
“Lily is beautiful as she is.” Rose squeezed her sister’s hand comfortingly. “Weallthink so.”
Aunt Agatha snorted.
“Better to be sweet-natured and cuddly than a nasty, well-dressed skeleton.” George gave a meaningful glance at Aunt Agatha.
Lily tried not to squirm. She hated this, hated people quarreling over her, hated it when Aunt Agatha examined her through her horrid lorgnette—as she did every time she visited. Under that cold, merciless gaze, Lily always feltlike a worm—a fat, unattractive, stupid worm. And she couldn’t bear another evening of it.
“I’m sorry but I can’t come to the opera tonight,” she found herself saying. “I have a—a previous engagement.”
There was a short, shocked silence. Rose and George blinked and tried to conceal their surprise.
Aunt Agatha’s gaze, her eyes horribly enlarged through the lens of her weapon of choice, bored into Lily. “Whatdid you say, gel?”
Lily swallowed but held her ground. “I said, I have a prior engagement.” She pressed her lips together. She was hopeless at arguing; she always gave in eventually, so it was better to say nothing.
Aunt Agatha gripped her carved ebony stick in a bony grasp and stamped it on the floor. The floor being covered by a thick Turkish rug, the effect was rather lost. “Did you not understand me, you stupid gel? A duke and two of his friends have agreed to join our party at the opera. Aduke!Andtwo other eligible gentlemen. And you say youcan’t come? What nonsense! Of course you will come!”
Lily eased her fingers out of her sister’s grasp. Now her hands were sweaty, as well as her thighs. She wiped them surreptitiously on her skirt and said with as much dignity as she could muster, “I was under the impression you had issued an invitation, Aunt Agatha, not an order.”
Beside her, Rose gasped. It was usually Rose or George who answered Aunt Agatha back. Lily was supposed to be the meek, biddable one. But she wasn’t going to be bullied, not this time. Aunt Agatha didn’t really want her company tonight—she just hated being crossed.
In any case, Lily wasn’t very fond of opera—she had no ear for music, she didn’t understand it and she had a tendency to fall asleep. And the kind of men that Aunt Agatha always found to accompany them were, frankly, terrifying—cynical, world-weary and too sophisticated for words.
Aunt Agatha’s mouth tightened. “Do you haveanyidea what it took to get this duke to agree to join myself and you three gels at the opera tonight?Andto bring two of his Very Eligible Friends for you and Georgiana.”
George, who loved music but hated being called Georgiana, said, “Blackmailed his mother, I suppose.” If Lily hadn’t been so tense, she might have smiled. It was probably true. Half the ton was terrified of Aunt Agatha; the other half was merely nervous. But dear George was frightened of nothing and nobody, certainly not Aunt Agatha.
Aunt Agatha stiffened and directed the Lorgnette of Doom at her great-niece.“I beg your pardon!”
“Apology accepted,” George said provocatively and with mock innocence. “Isn’t that what you usually do? Blackmail or bully them into doing what you want?” Apparently oblivious of Aunt Agatha’s swelling outrage, George strolled over to the mantelpiece, lifted a posy of violets and inhaled the fragrance. “Gorgeous. Don’t you adore violets? So small but so sweet. They used to grow wild at Willowbank Farm.” Her old home.
Lily envied George’s cool assurance. Despite her refusal to buckle under Aunt Agatha’s insistence, Lily was shaking in her shoes. And trying desperately not to show it.
“How clever of you to secure a duke, Aunt Agatha,” Rose said quickly. “Which duke would that be?” Oil over troubled waters. Not Rose’s usual approach.
Aunt Agatha shot a last vitriolic glance at George and another at Lily, before turning to Rose. “At leastoneof you appreciates the trouble I go to, to ensure you gels make suitable marriages. The nobleman who will join us in my box tonight is... the Duke of Everingham.” She waited as if expecting applause.
Lily said nothing. She’d never heard of the Duke of Everingham, but she knew what he would be like. Since the start of the season Aunt Agatha had been throwing eligible gentlemen at all three girls, and not one of them had looked twice at Lily. Not that Lily wanted them to.
Aunt Agatha had a taste for sophisticated, jaded, rakish gentlemen who invariably looked bored and uttered the kind of witticisms that always had some hidden meaning, a meaning that everyone except Lily seemed to get. She always felt hopelessly out of her depth with Aunt Agatha’s“eligible gentlemen,” and she was sure this duke and his friends would be just the same.
He was, of course, intended for Rose, the eldest of the three of them and the most beautiful. Aunt Agatha was determined that Rose, at least, would become a duchess. Whether Rose wanted it or not. Rose herself was indifferent to marriage and planned to put it off as long as she could. Not that Aunt Agatha knew that.
Lily didn’t reply, George twirled the violets under her nose, inhaling the perfume with a blissful expression, so it was left to Rose, who had no ambition to become a duchess, to make a vaguely appreciative sound.
Aunt Agatha, irritated by their lack of understanding, explained, “Everybody isdesperatefor Everingham to attend their balls and routs. A hostess isin altif he so much as condescends to accept an invitation—and even then there’s no guarantee he will turn up. But his mother—to whom I am godmother, Georgiana, a woman whovaluesmy advice—has promised faithfully that hewillcome to the opera tonight,andjoin us in my box,andbring a couple of friends.”
“How very delightful,” Rose said brightly. “I do so admire a man who does what his mother tells him.” There was a muffled snort from George, and Rose hastily added, “What a shame Lily has a prior engagement. But you set such store on correct behavior, Aunt Agatha, you would surely not wish her to renege on an invitation she has already accepted.”
The old lady’s lips thinned. Her expression showed that she thought nothing of the sort. In her view the opportunity of a duke trumped everything, and good manners depended wholly on the situation.