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Diana winced at her sister’s cold—but accurate—perspective. “That’s enough.” She turned to the countess. “If you wouldn’t mind, we would prefer to discuss this among ourselves more privately before we do anything. We live in Hanover Square. If you could visit tomorrow, we will let you know our decision about payment. But I think I speak for Verity and myself both when I say we would be happy to help you, paid or not. We don’t exactly have men clamoring to dance with us or pay us calls or invite us to parties. And those that do have certain expectations . . .”

Verity arched a brow. “Let’s just say they assume we’re all like our mother—unacceptable as wives but suitable for a less respectable position. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Sadly, I do.” Lady Sinclair’s blue eyes flashed. “Some of those men are looking for that sort of position with any pretty woman . . . if they can get it.” She shot Eliza a pointed look. “But at least one of you has respectably married.”

“That happened before the Incident, yes.”

When the countess looked blank, Diana said hastily, “That’s what we call Mama’s elopement with a man other than our father. As a friend of mine said, Mama is ‘married but courting.’”

“I see.” Lady Sinclair faced Eliza. “Would you be willing to join them, too, Mrs. Pierce? I will definitely need your advice on music.”

“I could use the money,” Eliza said in a low voice, shocking Diana. When had Eliza and her husband begun having financial difficulties? “So yes, I would be delighted.”

The countess grinned at them, as if their compliance was a foregone conclusion. “I’m afraid it is long past time I got back to my husband. I shall see all of you in the morning.” And with that, she headed for the door.

Diana rounded on her sisters. “I can’t believe you two wish to take money for this.”

Verity narrowed her gaze. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that we shall never be able to marry anyway now that the Incident has occurred? Our only choices are to live with Papa or become governesses—what fun that would be,” she said acidly. “Or worse, we might end up working as companions to old matrons while they lecture us about morality and denigrate Mama.”

“Surely Papa could and would support us for as long as we need,” Diana said, determined not to think of the other two choices.

“Even after he marries? You know that as soon as he gets his divorce, he will wed another—he still needs an heir. He’ll find some buxom young creature to serve as his broodmare, and we’ll slowly become the spinsters who watch over his new wife’s children.”

“You have got to stop reading those gothic novels, Verity,” Diana said. “We do not live in a gloomy castle, and Papa is not the wicked villain who will treat us badly.”

“No, he’s worse,” Eliza put in. “He’s the father in the Beauty and the Beast fairy tale who accedes to the demand that his daughter take his place as the beast’s ‘guest.’ Looking the other way and not defending your family is the insidious act of a villain. And where is Papa when we need him? Going to court to spread the family’s dirty linen all over town. Who is suffering for it? The two of you. And me, in my own way. Lord knows Mama isn’t. She’s probably having the time of her life.”

Something in her sister’s despairing tone made Diana ache for her. To everyone else, Eliza looked the picture of the happily married wife. But Diana had noticed that Eliza’s smile was forced of late, her blue eyes troubled, and her words tinged with bitterness. Was Eliza having difficulties because of Mama’s bold act?

Diana would get to the bottom of it. Eliza deserved the best the world could offer. “By the way, I meant to tell you earlier that you look lovely tonight.”

Eliza’s lustrous hair was caught up in a delicate bandeau just the right shade of nut-brown to accentuate her blondness. Her gown of silk primrose skimmed her hourglass form with loving care, and her shoes gave her some much-needed height. Diana had picked out Eliza’s ensemble for her, of course—fashion was Diana’s passion. But Eliza’s gold jewelry seemed to come from her husband. Diana didn’t recognize the intricate work and was rather surprised he’d purchased such a romantic piece.

“I feel like a cow in sheep’s clothing,” Eliza grumbled.

Her sisters closed in on her. Verity was the first to ask, “Are you expecting?”

“Expecting whom?” Then Eliza groaned as she realized what Verity meant. “Oh. No. Nothing like that. I just . . .” She sighed. “I suppose I might as well tell you; you’ll find out soon enough. Apparently, my husband decided, without consulting me, that he should go off to war. To that end, he has bought himself an officer’s commission, and he means to join his new regiment in Portugal as soon as possible. He does not wish for me to accompany him, even if it were allowed.”

“That makes perfect sense.” Diana grabbed her sister’s hands. The very thought of sweet Eliza following the drum gave Diana heart failure. “It would be dangerous. He’s only thinking of you.”

“Is he? Three years married and he can’t wait to leave me.”

“To serve his country,” Verity pointed out. “It’s honorable, at least.”

“Perhaps. But he didn’t say that’s why. It makes no sense. He never had an interest in serving as an officer before. Given his rank, he could have. The only reason I can think of is that he hates the scandal and gossip swirling about us. He says that’s not why either, but—”

“You should listen to him.” Verity hugged her. “Besides, it doesn’t matter why. All that matters is we’re here to support you however you wish.”

“I appreciate that.” Eliza looked as if she were on the brink of tears. “The house will be very lonely without him. I don’t know how I will bear it.”

“If we continue helping ladies with the social events they host,” Diana said dryly, “we’ll have to move in with you just so we can keep it out of Papa’s view.”

Eliza brightened. “What a brilliant idea! It will be so much easier to coordinate plans if we’re all in the same abode.”

“I spoke in jest, Eliza,” Diana said.

“But we could do it, couldn’t we?” Verity said. “It would be easy to convince Papa that Eliza needed us, on account of Mr. Pierce going off to war.”


Tags: Sabrina Jeffries Historical