Page 15 of The Colonist’s Petition (Heirs & Heroes #2)

“But I—” Isabel's protest fell short due to Susanna entering from the corridor, followed by a footman carrying a crate.

“We found another one,” Susanna announced.

Isabel set aside her armful of buntings. “I hope it contains the blue buntings.”

Georgiana bit her lip and looked at Jane, who also held back a smile. Isabel's exclamation upon opening the crate filled the room. It was as if, for a moment, the blue buntings were the most important thing that there ever was.

“Ouch.” Jane blew on her finger before sticking it in her mouth.

The maid hurried to Jane's side, removing the iron from the fabric before inspecting the burn. George hurried over, followed by everyone else.

Susanna took charge. “Come, our cook will have something for that burn.”

Isabel sighed. “I suppose that means one of us will need to take Jane's place.”

“I will.” George volunteered, more to avoid the making of the fabric rosettes. George folded a cloth to wrap around the iron's handle, picked up the iron, and started where her sister left off.

“You are so good at that. I am afraid I have no aptitude for that at all. Last year, I put so many scorch marks in my first bunting that mother told me I was never to touch an iron again. I would be in so much trouble if I fell in love with the stable boy. His clothes would be burned through, and we would starve as I do not know how to cook,” said Isabel.

Lady Godderidge clucked her tongue. “Isabel, what a thing to say.”

“It is true. I read a novel only last week where the heroine ran off with the farmhand, who fortuitously was an heir to a large fortune, as she burned their very first meal. He was rather mean not to tell her for a week that he was a gentleman, and she was in tears. They had eaten nothing but porridge. I decided then and there that I would have left him after a day. I could never love someone so much that I would go hungry for a week trying to learn how to cook.”

Alex set aside her sewing. “Then you would not be truly in love, would you? If you are not willing to go through the hard things as well as the easy.”

“I could be in love, but I might kill him with my attempts to cook. Then where would we be?” said Isabel.

Everyone, including the maid, laughed at that.

George switched out her iron for a hotter one. “Before I ran off with such a man, I would learn all I could from Cook and the maids.”

“You are far ahead of me on that count. You can cook eggs and porridge,” said Alex.

“I can churn butter, too. Cook gave me that job often enough. None are skills that will help me during the Season, will they?” George didn’t look up from her ironing.

“What skills?” Susanna asked as she entered the room with Jane whose hand was wrapped in a white cloth.

“Cooking and cleaning.”

“Why ever would you think of such a thing?” Susanna sat and immediately started making rosettes at an astonishing speed. “There are much better topics to discuss. Did I tell you that my David visited with Mr. Dalrymple yesterday, and he is coming to the harvest fair?”

“Of course he is coming. He would be a fool not to.” Isabel's tone held an uncharacteristically derisive tone.

Alex stood and shook out a bunting. “He seemed very amiable at church.”

“Was he the one with the blue waistcoat?” asked Jane.

“Sardinian blue to be exact. He does not have the height for that color,” said Isabel.

“Isabel.” Lady Godderidge's sharp rebuke was enough for even George to stop her work. “I did not raise you to find fault.”

“I cannot help it, mama. He is so short.” Isabel was not usually so negative.

“I thought he was almost as tall as Father,” said Jane.

Isabel stood. “I am as tall as your father. I abhor looking at a man and seeing the top of his head.”

“Come now, at most he could not be more than this much shorter than you.” Susanna held up her fingers a hair's width apart.

“He was wearing heeled boots.”

“As were you. If you would listen to me and have the bootmaker give you lower heels, you would not be as tall.” Lady Godderidge walked to Isabel's side and lifted her skirt five inches.

“There is no reason for heels that high. This Season, we are not commissioning any boots with a heel of more than an inch.”

“Mama.” Isabel stomped her foot.

George covered her mouth to keep from laughing.

Lady Godderidge waved her daughter back. “Enough of this. If you do not wish to dance with Mr. Dalrymple, then who?”

“Mr. Whittaker is on my list. He is tall enough for all of my shoes.”

“The American?” asked Susanna.

Isabel twirled across the floor. “Of course. Have you seen his strong chin?”

George looked down at her ironing.

“Isabel!” snapped Susanna. “That is not proper.”

“What? Dancing with a guest?”

“No. Associating with an American. How could you?” Susanna rushed out in a flurry of skirts.

George felt as stunned as Jane and Alex looked.

Lady Godderidge sighed. “Forgive her. Her brother died two years ago fighting in the war.”

Obviously, Johnathan was not responsible for any war, or killing, but how many would blame him anyway?