Page 7 of Too Brazen to Bite (Gothic Love Stories #5)

She might not have a grand purpose to life, but Ellie was in possession of an invitation to a house party, and she’d be damned if she would give that up as well without a fight.

If she couldn’t have the kind of life she’d always dreamt of, she wanted to at least experience the upcoming weekend. Especially since Mr. Macane would be there. When Ellie left, she would carry his memory with her.

Mama was staring at Ellie with narrowed eyes and a brow creased with concentration, as if she was hoping to force her daughter to acquiesce with the mere force of her will.

It almost worked. Every other time, it had worked.

But not today.

Today, Ellie stood tall, with her messy hair, her juice-stained hems, and her bruised-but-unfettered arm akimbo on her hips. They both knew she would end up living wherever her mother wished. But Ellie did not have to pack her things at this moment.

“My dear friend’s birthday is in a few days,” she began, toeing the fine line between exaggeration and outright lies.

“If you are asking me to abandon her without so much as a word, the least you can do is allow me to accept her invitation. I may never have the opportunity again. And we can leave the following week just as easily as this one.”

Mama’s frown increased. “Elspeth, darling. Please listen. We are not leaving for me. I do this for you. ”

“Then wait for me.” Ellie relaxed her stance and softened her voice. “Let me call on my friend for the weekend. I will only be gone a few days.”

“But why would you wish to? You’ve never spent a single night from home.”

“You’ve never allowed it.”

“Why should I do so now?”

“Mother, you haven’t a choice. I’m old enough to mind my manners and not embarrass myself.

I’m also old enough to have a little fun.

If you allow me one small freedom, this will be our last word on the subject.

When I return, I will pack peaceably and immediately, and we can set off as soon as you’d like. ”

Her mother’s lips pursed. “And if I cannot agree?”

Ellie lifted a shoulder. “Then it will be a battle every step of the way.”

Mama was silent for a long moment. Perhaps she could not fathom why her daughter had lost her habitual obedience.

Now that it was Ellie’s last opportunity to see Mr. Macane, Miss Breckenridge’s invitation had become a brass ring dangling just out of reach. Ellie was determined to make one last leap.

And earn the promised fee. Running away cost more than staying still, and they had enough trouble making it through each day.

Mama shook her head. “Elspeth darling...”

Ellie longed to collapse her shoulders in defeat. She forced her spine even straighter rather than give the impression of submissiveness.

“Ladies?” The deep voice came from beyond the pantry, where their sole manservant stood in the shadows bearing a single white card upon a small silver tray. “It appears Miss Ramsay has a visitor.”

“Who?” Mama demanded, wild-eyed.

“The card says Miss Lydia Breckenridge.” The manservant proffered the tray.

If Ellie thought her mother had been blindsided by her daughter’s recent demonstration of will, Mama was downright apoplectic over the shock of impending company.

“Show her to the sitting room, if you please,” Ellie commanded before her mother could catch her breath. “I’ll be there posthaste.”

With that, she edged past her mother and raced to her bedchamber for a fresh gown.

Although she changed as rapidly as she was able, she fully expected to discover Miss Breckenridge gone half-mad from one of Mama’s brutal interrogations. Instead, Ellie found her benefactress to be unattended, drifting about the sitting room with an air of befuddlement.

“Good afternoon.” Ellie glanced about the simple room in search of whatever might have discomfited Miss Breckenridge so. “Is something amiss?”

“Amiss?” the young woman echoed, her brow clearing. “That’s precisely it. Nothing is amiss!”

“I’m afraid I do not follow.” Ellie motioned her guest onto a sofa and took the seat opposite.

“The Breckenridge estates are a positive museum, every inch filled with antiquities fighting for space with the latest Parisian baubles. Your domicile—whilst quite serviceable, Miss Ramsay, I mean no insult—hasn’t a single gewgaw on display.

It gives your home a refreshing, timeless appeal.

” Miss Breckenridge shook her head and laughed.

“I daresay your staff is the more content, not having to spend every minute dusting the same tired gimcracks.”

Ellie forced a smile, unsure whether her home had just been complimented or slighted. She tried to see her plain surroundings through a stranger’s eyes.

While everything was tasteful and tidy, the “everything” in question did in fact consist of no more than the bare necessities. Aside from a few pieces of furniture and a handful of candelabra, the sitting room contained nothing else.

Ellie could scarce imagine living in the chaotic opulence Miss Breckenridge described. Not only were antiquities and Parisian baubles above the Ramsays’ means, their inevitable midnight flights from one corner of England to another inherently prohibited attachment to any given item.

It was therefore a happy accident indeed if their inability to own any belongings had produced an ambiance of—what had Miss Breckenridge called it?—timeless appeal.

Ellie frowned slightly upon the realization that her benefactress might have been using the term in a more literal sense than originally interpreted.

The Ramsay home contained no clocks, no newspapers, no correspondence, no diaries, no family portraits.

.. It looked exactly as it always did, with nothing in vogue and nothing to mark the passage of time.

Viewing her home from such a perspective, Ellie began to suspect she had been quite cleverly insulted, and could not help but take affront on behalf of her family’s simplicity.

“Miss Breckenridge, I hardly think?—”

“Do I interrupt?” came a smooth voice from the doorway.

“Mama!” Ellie rose to her feet, an attack of nervousness overwhelming her momentary pique.

She had stood her ground against her mother, and there was no telling how Mama would react in consequence.

“Miss Breckenridge, this is my mother, Mrs. Ramsay. Mama, this is my—this is Miss Breckenridge, whom I’ve told you so much about. ”

Mama arched a slender brow. “The one with the birthday, I suppose.”

Miss Breckenridge could not suppress a startled blink at that rejoinder. Wordlessly, she, too, rose to her feet.

“Just so, Mama.” Ellie tamped down a grin at the idea of Miss Breckenridge’s being on the receiving end of an uninterpretable comment, unsure whether she had just been subtly insulted.

“How do you do,” Miss Breckenridge said at last. “I do have an impending birthday, and I’ve come to call for just that reason. I’ll be two-and-twenty next Saturday, and nothing will do but to have your daughter at the celebrations.”

Ellie cringed as her mother’s smooth expression quickly changed to disapproval.

“Celebrations” did not sound like two young girls roaming a country estate far removed from the public eye.

“Celebrations” sounded like the sort of thing Mama would forbid out of hand.

Ellie fixed her gaze on Miss Breckenridge, willing her not to say anything else that might give Mama more ammunition for a refusal.

“Mrs. Ramsay, it would be my honor and pleasure to have your daughter’s presence at this weekend’s house p?—”

No, no, it’s not a party, Ellie thought desperately, wishing she’d taken advantage of the brief privacy in order to coach Miss Breckenridge on subjects to avoid. Remember, we’re just two friends. No High Society. No grand crush. Just us. And your pretend kitten.

“—for an overnight stay,” Miss Breckenridge corrected, apparently recalling Ellie’s words the previous night. Her voice took on a far-off, wistful tone. “I am not one for big gatherings, so nothing will do but a long, quiet weekend with my dear friend and my darling cat.”

Ellie jerked her gaze to her mother, who was still eyeing the two young ladies beneath raised brows.

“Elspeth found the lost kitten?”

“Yes, Mama.” Ellie schooled her features into the most angelic of expressions. “She’s the most cunning little creature, and I would so enjoy the opportunity to play with her again. Do say I can go.”

When the resulting silence began to overwhelm the small sitting room, Miss Breckenridge put in earnestly, “I live far enough away that nothing less than a full weekend will do. I would be happy to send a carriage for Miss Ramsay as well.”

“We have our own carriage, thank you very much,” Mama snapped.

Rather than being taken aback, Miss Breckenridge seemed delighted by this response. She turned to Ellie with an air of satisfaction. “Then I shall see you on my birthday, dear friend. Good day to you both.”

And with that, Miss Breckenridge took her leave.

Ellie, however, knew better than to assume capitulation on her mother’s behalf. Until the word “yes” audibly crossed her mother’s lips, the battle had not been won.

“A lovely girl, isn’t she, Mama?”

“Don’t try my patience, Elspeth.”

“Just let me do this one last thing. Let me have a small taste of freedom, of friendship. Of belonging. Then I’ll go wherever you wish.”

Ellie stepped forward until she was but an arm’s length from her mother. Miss Breckenridge’s birthday party had become the most imperative engagement of her life.

They desperately needed the money—now more than ever, if another infernal cross-country trip loomed scant days hence.

More than that, Ellie wanted to go. She wanted to see the estate so smothered with messy riches, to hear the music of an orchestra swell around her. And, if she was being honest, she really wanted to lay eyes on Mr. Macane once more.

Not because she gave Miss Breckenridge’s fear of Lord Lovenip any credence, but because Ellie rather liked him.

He’d danced with her. Perhaps he’d do so again.

“Please, Mama.” Following her mother’s example, Ellie kept her voice calm and reasonable. “I don’t wish to fight. I would just like to spend a few days with a friend before we run off yet again to some remote place where we won’t know a single soul.”

Mama’s eyes narrowed. “A girls’ weekend, she said. Just the two of you and a kitten?”

“And her parents, of course,” Ellie put in quickly, lest her mother denounce the plan due to a lack of proper supervision.

“Very well,” her mother said with an appraising once-over and a sigh. “But do not make me regret this.”

“Really?” Ellie’s stomach dipped in a swirl of glee and apprehension. “I can go?”

“ We can go,” Mama corrected with a sharp nod. “I’m coming with you.”