Blanche held her hand up. "It don't fadge. They"—she nodded toward the clusters of crones—"say I won't take, especially being fired off the same time as you, but Auntie says the lands and title will turn the trick. Of course, my dowry isn't as large as yours."
"Do you mean they all know the size of my dowry?"
"Goosecap, they all know the size of your shoes!" Blanche went back to her book. Sunny shrugged, then opened hers.
Some new, younger faces were added the afternoon Grandmama held open house. The old ladies trotted forth spotty-faced, stammering grandsons just down from university, bored middle-aged bachelor sons, and the occasional rakish man-about-town nephew who owed his living to the ancient relative.
"The hounds are on the scent," Blanche commented, making Sonia smile. They'd reluctantly put their books away for the afternoon. Sonia liked reading about the dashing heroes and put-upon heroines far more than she did pouring tea and listening to empty chitchat and insincere flattery.
Sonia finally got to meet Grandmama's goddaughter Rosellen Conover, Lady
Conare, a brittle young matron who covered her slightly faded beauty in
flamboyant dress. Rosellen was supposed to chaperone Sonia for the season. The
older woman's eyes narrowed to slits when she saw Miss Randolph's fresh young beauty.
"Why, Lady Almeria, whatever can you be thinking?" Lady Conare chided. "Surely the chit's too young to be presented. She looks a veritable schoolgirl. Or a little milkmaid."
Lady Atterbury just cackled and waggled her sticklike finger under the woman's nose. "Told you she was a Diamond, didn't I?"
Lady Atterbury's assessment was quickly and eloquently seconded by Lady Rosellen's escort and brother, Lord Ansel, Baron Berke. The baron was a fairly attractive man of about thirty, trim if not muscular, and exquisitely tailored. There was just a touch of dandyism in his patterned waistcoat, crossed fobs, and heavy scent. Nor could Sonia appreciate the way he looked at her through his quizzing glass. Still, he was friendly and polite, and his compliments went far to restoring Sonia's confidence after his sister's cutting remarks. She was further impressed with Baron Berke when she saw him cross to where Blanche sat alone and unpopular—until she spoke to her friend later as they exchanged books.
"Berke? He's one of the season's catches, you know. They say his pockets are to let, so he's bound to settle on some heiress or other this year."
"Are you sure? He certainly didn't look like he was all to pieces."
"Don't be a goose. The worst wastrel in town can dress elegantly; he just don't pay his tailor. Berke's not that bad off. Yet."
"Well, he seemed pleasant enough."
"Of course he did; he'd never land an heiress else, title or no! Did he tell you that you were a breath of springtime, a bud of perfection just waiting to open? Did he kiss your hand and say he was honored to be among the first to touch the bloom?"
Sonia giggled. "You, too? Oh dear, and I thought he was the nicest of the gentlemen here today."
"You mean he was the only one with any conversation at all, even if it was Spanish coin. They"—Blanche nodded toward where her aunt and Lady Atterbury had their heads together—"say he was dangling after a rich Cit's daughter, but he'd sooner take you with your looks and money, or me for the title and lands. Do you think you'd have him?"
Sonia laughed, saying, "After you convinced me not to believe a word he says?" She tapped the book in her hand. "I'd rather have Count Rudolpho than a husband I couldn't trust!"
So, like Diogenes, I set out to find an honest man.
Chapter Six
« ^ »
I was taught that honesty means I am not to sleep on the furniture, even if no one is home. Honesty means not taking food from the kitchen when Cook isn't looking, unless it falls on the floor. I am a good dog.
Human persons are different. They make laws about honesty and then they break them. Sometimes this is a crime,
"Do you mean they all know the size of my dowry?"
"Goosecap, they all know the size of your shoes!" Blanche went back to her book. Sunny shrugged, then opened hers.
Some new, younger faces were added the afternoon Grandmama held open house. The old ladies trotted forth spotty-faced, stammering grandsons just down from university, bored middle-aged bachelor sons, and the occasional rakish man-about-town nephew who owed his living to the ancient relative.
"The hounds are on the scent," Blanche commented, making Sonia smile. They'd reluctantly put their books away for the afternoon. Sonia liked reading about the dashing heroes and put-upon heroines far more than she did pouring tea and listening to empty chitchat and insincere flattery.
Sonia finally got to meet Grandmama's goddaughter Rosellen Conover, Lady
Conare, a brittle young matron who covered her slightly faded beauty in
flamboyant dress. Rosellen was supposed to chaperone Sonia for the season. The
older woman's eyes narrowed to slits when she saw Miss Randolph's fresh young beauty.
"Why, Lady Almeria, whatever can you be thinking?" Lady Conare chided. "Surely the chit's too young to be presented. She looks a veritable schoolgirl. Or a little milkmaid."
Lady Atterbury just cackled and waggled her sticklike finger under the woman's nose. "Told you she was a Diamond, didn't I?"
Lady Atterbury's assessment was quickly and eloquently seconded by Lady Rosellen's escort and brother, Lord Ansel, Baron Berke. The baron was a fairly attractive man of about thirty, trim if not muscular, and exquisitely tailored. There was just a touch of dandyism in his patterned waistcoat, crossed fobs, and heavy scent. Nor could Sonia appreciate the way he looked at her through his quizzing glass. Still, he was friendly and polite, and his compliments went far to restoring Sonia's confidence after his sister's cutting remarks. She was further impressed with Baron Berke when she saw him cross to where Blanche sat alone and unpopular—until she spoke to her friend later as they exchanged books.
"Berke? He's one of the season's catches, you know. They say his pockets are to let, so he's bound to settle on some heiress or other this year."
"Are you sure? He certainly didn't look like he was all to pieces."
"Don't be a goose. The worst wastrel in town can dress elegantly; he just don't pay his tailor. Berke's not that bad off. Yet."
"Well, he seemed pleasant enough."
"Of course he did; he'd never land an heiress else, title or no! Did he tell you that you were a breath of springtime, a bud of perfection just waiting to open? Did he kiss your hand and say he was honored to be among the first to touch the bloom?"
Sonia giggled. "You, too? Oh dear, and I thought he was the nicest of the gentlemen here today."
"You mean he was the only one with any conversation at all, even if it was Spanish coin. They"—Blanche nodded toward where her aunt and Lady Atterbury had their heads together—"say he was dangling after a rich Cit's daughter, but he'd sooner take you with your looks and money, or me for the title and lands. Do you think you'd have him?"
Sonia laughed, saying, "After you convinced me not to believe a word he says?" She tapped the book in her hand. "I'd rather have Count Rudolpho than a husband I couldn't trust!"
So, like Diogenes, I set out to find an honest man.
Chapter Six
« ^ »
I was taught that honesty means I am not to sleep on the furniture, even if no one is home. Honesty means not taking food from the kitchen when Cook isn't looking, unless it falls on the floor. I am a good dog.
Human persons are different. They make laws about honesty and then they break them. Sometimes this is a crime,
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