large and formal, its walls hung with Spitalfields silk brocade and the ceiling with three crystal chandeliers, it had a comfortable, inviting atmosphere that was achieved by the invitingly casual groupings of settees and armchairs.
Caro and Emily listened quietly as Grace, Jane, their mother, and Mary Milbank cruelly dissected the absent males. Lord Charles Harley was the most cruelly maligned. His nickname was the Nose, and even Caro had to concede that his face did appear to be all proboscis. Worse, its enormous size had the misfortune to project from an excessively sloping forehead and receding chin that gave him a startling triangular profile. But Caro liked him. He was intelligent, friendly, and good-hearted, all qualities she valued far more than a nose.
But clearly Jane did not. With one hand pulling on her nose to extend its length, she acted out a cruelly slanderous lampoon of poor Lord Charles. Her mother, sister, and Mary Milbank laughed uproariously while Emily and Caro sat in uncomfortable silence.
Only Ashley escaped ; criticism. Even Mary seemed to have either forgiven or forgotten his rakish tendencies as she joined the Kelsie daughters in complimenting his charm, fine looks, impeccable dress, good manners, and wit.
Grace turned suddenly to Caro, who had taken no part in the conversation. “Which of our guests would you like to marry?”
Caro, taken aback by the abruptness of the question, answered, “None of them. You know that I wish never to marry.”
“You say that because you know only a fortune hunter would marry an anecdote like you,” Grace scoffed.
Caro’s pride would not allow her cousins the satisfaction of knowing how much their many cruel jibes hurt her. She either pretended to take no notice or shrugged them off with a cool comment as though they mattered naught. Caro displayed the same feigned indifference to their mother’s incessant criticism. Now, forcing a smile to her lips, she said, “I say it because I am not so foolish as to think marriage need be a woman’s only purpose in life.”
But part of her opposition to marriage stemmed from the knowledge that no man would ever fall madly in love with a plain thing like herself. Were she to receive an offer, it would be, as Grace said, based on other considerations, principally her fortune. Caro had observed the unhappy fate of plain heiresses, such as Amelia Colebard and Clara Potter, and she had no intention of sharing it. She had seen no example of a husband who, having married for other than love, treated his wife well.
When the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after finishing their brandy, most of them gravitated immediately toward Grace and Jane, who, in complimentary shades of pink and blue, were artfully arranged on a sofa with their mama beside them.
Mercer Corte and Vinson, coming into the drawing room together, went immediately toward Emily Picton, but Mrs. Kelsie insisted that Ashley join her and her daughters on the sofa. As he crossed to it, Caro wondered in mortification how she could ever have mistaken him for a solicitor. The quiet elegance of his faultlessly tailored midnight-blue coat and white breeches, and the intricate arrangement of his snowy cravat with a single sapphire glittering in its folds, eclipsed his far more showily dressed companions, even that satin-clad pink of the ton, Sir Percival Plymtree, whose waistcoat was as crowded with fobs and seals as his fingers were with rings.
Caro was suddenly conscious of how deficient her own appearance was and wished that she had spent more time on her toilette. She was wearing one of the new gowns that Aunt Olive had ordered for her, a skimpily cut blue muslin. Although her aunt had proclaimed it perfect on her, it seemed to Caro to emphasize her thin, boyish form, and its color did not become her complexion at all.
Lord Charles joined Caro, who, remembering how Jane had made fun of his nose, went out of her way to be friendly with him. A few
Caro and Emily listened quietly as Grace, Jane, their mother, and Mary Milbank cruelly dissected the absent males. Lord Charles Harley was the most cruelly maligned. His nickname was the Nose, and even Caro had to concede that his face did appear to be all proboscis. Worse, its enormous size had the misfortune to project from an excessively sloping forehead and receding chin that gave him a startling triangular profile. But Caro liked him. He was intelligent, friendly, and good-hearted, all qualities she valued far more than a nose.
But clearly Jane did not. With one hand pulling on her nose to extend its length, she acted out a cruelly slanderous lampoon of poor Lord Charles. Her mother, sister, and Mary Milbank laughed uproariously while Emily and Caro sat in uncomfortable silence.
Only Ashley escaped ; criticism. Even Mary seemed to have either forgiven or forgotten his rakish tendencies as she joined the Kelsie daughters in complimenting his charm, fine looks, impeccable dress, good manners, and wit.
Grace turned suddenly to Caro, who had taken no part in the conversation. “Which of our guests would you like to marry?”
Caro, taken aback by the abruptness of the question, answered, “None of them. You know that I wish never to marry.”
“You say that because you know only a fortune hunter would marry an anecdote like you,” Grace scoffed.
Caro’s pride would not allow her cousins the satisfaction of knowing how much their many cruel jibes hurt her. She either pretended to take no notice or shrugged them off with a cool comment as though they mattered naught. Caro displayed the same feigned indifference to their mother’s incessant criticism. Now, forcing a smile to her lips, she said, “I say it because I am not so foolish as to think marriage need be a woman’s only purpose in life.”
But part of her opposition to marriage stemmed from the knowledge that no man would ever fall madly in love with a plain thing like herself. Were she to receive an offer, it would be, as Grace said, based on other considerations, principally her fortune. Caro had observed the unhappy fate of plain heiresses, such as Amelia Colebard and Clara Potter, and she had no intention of sharing it. She had seen no example of a husband who, having married for other than love, treated his wife well.
When the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after finishing their brandy, most of them gravitated immediately toward Grace and Jane, who, in complimentary shades of pink and blue, were artfully arranged on a sofa with their mama beside them.
Mercer Corte and Vinson, coming into the drawing room together, went immediately toward Emily Picton, but Mrs. Kelsie insisted that Ashley join her and her daughters on the sofa. As he crossed to it, Caro wondered in mortification how she could ever have mistaken him for a solicitor. The quiet elegance of his faultlessly tailored midnight-blue coat and white breeches, and the intricate arrangement of his snowy cravat with a single sapphire glittering in its folds, eclipsed his far more showily dressed companions, even that satin-clad pink of the ton, Sir Percival Plymtree, whose waistcoat was as crowded with fobs and seals as his fingers were with rings.
Caro was suddenly conscious of how deficient her own appearance was and wished that she had spent more time on her toilette. She was wearing one of the new gowns that Aunt Olive had ordered for her, a skimpily cut blue muslin. Although her aunt had proclaimed it perfect on her, it seemed to Caro to emphasize her thin, boyish form, and its color did not become her complexion at all.
Lord Charles joined Caro, who, remembering how Jane had made fun of his nose, went out of her way to be friendly with him. A few
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