a very good thing that you don't own me, your lordship, and I don't have to listen to you."
"Would you listen to me if I did own you?"
He was possibly the oddest, most vexing and interfering man she'd ever met in the entire course of her life.
When she buried her face in one puffed silk sleeve, she was surrounded by the richly spiced scent of a very distinctive cologne water.
He had marked her, she realized, appalled. He had marked her all over as if he did, in fact, own her. Or he planned to.
Chapter Seven
Her mother claimed a sore head the next morning and refused to get fully dressed. Instead she reclined like an elegantly wounded, exotic bird that, once abandoned by its flock, had fallen to the chaise by the fire in one dramatic flourish. With a deeply troubled sigh to ruffle the lush, ostrich-feather collar of her bed robe, she surveyed her daughter with heavy eyes and reviewed the many disappointments of her life. The latest of which, happened to be Raven's fault, and not due to an excess of champagne punch drunk the night before.
"Thanks to you, child, I suffered a most unsatisfactory night's repose. I hope you are content. At my age one cannot afford many sleepless, agitated evenings. It takes a wretched toll upon one's skin."
"How did I disturb you, mama?"
"Had you bothered to smile at Hale last night and troubled yourself to be pleasant for a quarter of an hour, I daresay he would have put off going back to his estate and come to tea with us. Then certain people in this town would be sorry they ever gave me the cut. With Hale by our side we could do no wrong. We would be invited to more events than we could possibly attend. But no, you could not do that small thing for me."
"We were invited to the Winstanleys'."
"And what a waste that was, since you let the one worthwhile fish in your net slip away." She screwed up her nose. "Besides, the Winstanleys only invited us out of respect for my father's memory. That connection is slight and grows thinner every year. Now dear papa is gone..." Raising a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her face, she dabbed away a non-existent tear. "They have no care for me or the trials I suffer. Why should they? They need nothing from me and I can do naught for them. This world is all about what people can get from each other, as I've told you before."
"Yes, mama." Like her mother, Raven had woken that morning very out of sorts, but she couldn't put her finger on any particular ailment, so she blamed it on the weather. This half-hearted drizzle shivering against the window was enough to make a saint put his fist through the glass, she thought dourly.
"To get a man like Hale within your grasp and then to idly push him aside...ugh, I despair of you, Raven! You do not appreciate the advantages you've been given, or the many things I do for you."
As was typical of her mother, she took the credit for Hale noticing her daughter, even though she had no idea of the mischief that led to it.
"Mama, he's too old for me and far too grim."
"Nonsense. Hale is not long turned thirty. He is, in fact, an ideal age for you. And vastly more use than that dreadful boy, Matthew Bourne! I should have known the Bournes had some other girl in mind, but I let you go about with him for weeks at the exclusion of all other prospects. Now here we are. That sapling is about to be engaged elsewhere and we have lost more time. You are cast aside like an old stocking, and I am rendered so grievously ill that I can barely lift a cup. It is humiliating! I've a mind to sue the Bournes for breach of promise."
When Lady Charlotte was upset and thought herself ill-used, she did not rest until she had her vengeance. Some years ago she had whispered so many awful things about her former husband into her eldest son Ransom's ear, that the boy had gone out and shot at his father with a dueling pistol.
Nobody was killed, much to Lady Charlotte's disappointment. But it served as a warning of how far she would go to get
"Would you listen to me if I did own you?"
He was possibly the oddest, most vexing and interfering man she'd ever met in the entire course of her life.
When she buried her face in one puffed silk sleeve, she was surrounded by the richly spiced scent of a very distinctive cologne water.
He had marked her, she realized, appalled. He had marked her all over as if he did, in fact, own her. Or he planned to.
Chapter Seven
Her mother claimed a sore head the next morning and refused to get fully dressed. Instead she reclined like an elegantly wounded, exotic bird that, once abandoned by its flock, had fallen to the chaise by the fire in one dramatic flourish. With a deeply troubled sigh to ruffle the lush, ostrich-feather collar of her bed robe, she surveyed her daughter with heavy eyes and reviewed the many disappointments of her life. The latest of which, happened to be Raven's fault, and not due to an excess of champagne punch drunk the night before.
"Thanks to you, child, I suffered a most unsatisfactory night's repose. I hope you are content. At my age one cannot afford many sleepless, agitated evenings. It takes a wretched toll upon one's skin."
"How did I disturb you, mama?"
"Had you bothered to smile at Hale last night and troubled yourself to be pleasant for a quarter of an hour, I daresay he would have put off going back to his estate and come to tea with us. Then certain people in this town would be sorry they ever gave me the cut. With Hale by our side we could do no wrong. We would be invited to more events than we could possibly attend. But no, you could not do that small thing for me."
"We were invited to the Winstanleys'."
"And what a waste that was, since you let the one worthwhile fish in your net slip away." She screwed up her nose. "Besides, the Winstanleys only invited us out of respect for my father's memory. That connection is slight and grows thinner every year. Now dear papa is gone..." Raising a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her face, she dabbed away a non-existent tear. "They have no care for me or the trials I suffer. Why should they? They need nothing from me and I can do naught for them. This world is all about what people can get from each other, as I've told you before."
"Yes, mama." Like her mother, Raven had woken that morning very out of sorts, but she couldn't put her finger on any particular ailment, so she blamed it on the weather. This half-hearted drizzle shivering against the window was enough to make a saint put his fist through the glass, she thought dourly.
"To get a man like Hale within your grasp and then to idly push him aside...ugh, I despair of you, Raven! You do not appreciate the advantages you've been given, or the many things I do for you."
As was typical of her mother, she took the credit for Hale noticing her daughter, even though she had no idea of the mischief that led to it.
"Mama, he's too old for me and far too grim."
"Nonsense. Hale is not long turned thirty. He is, in fact, an ideal age for you. And vastly more use than that dreadful boy, Matthew Bourne! I should have known the Bournes had some other girl in mind, but I let you go about with him for weeks at the exclusion of all other prospects. Now here we are. That sapling is about to be engaged elsewhere and we have lost more time. You are cast aside like an old stocking, and I am rendered so grievously ill that I can barely lift a cup. It is humiliating! I've a mind to sue the Bournes for breach of promise."
When Lady Charlotte was upset and thought herself ill-used, she did not rest until she had her vengeance. Some years ago she had whispered so many awful things about her former husband into her eldest son Ransom's ear, that the boy had gone out and shot at his father with a dueling pistol.
Nobody was killed, much to Lady Charlotte's disappointment. But it served as a warning of how far she would go to get
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