looks. When you make your come-out, you will be
the most beautiful girl London has ever seen!’
‘Thank you,’ said Annabelle, lowering her blackened eyelashes to mask a sudden spasm of irritation. Why must Minerva’s praise always be so generous and unaffected? Surely she
must feel just a little jealousy. Now she, Annabelle, was quite pleased to see that her sister was looking a trifle haggard and that she had dark circles under her eyes.
Then several crude and quite unmaidenly thoughts as to how Minerva came by those signs of fatigue flashed through her brain and she became more than ever determined to put Minerva’s nose
out of joint. Just let’s see how sweet Minerva stayed when she realized her famous wedding was to be shared by her sister!
But there was one good thing. If Minerva had not noticed the paint and merely thought Annabelle’s glowing complexion was the result of natural beauty, then so would everyone else.
Feeling composed, she raised her eyes to her sister and said quickly, ‘Merva, I know you have come to scold me about last night. But what did I say that was so very wrong?’
‘I asked Sylvester,’ said Minerva, ‘and you must understand that what you said – in all innocence – was in fact a piece of low cant which should never pass the lips
of any lady. I am only glad you left the company so early. That at least shows some sense. I am sure everyone will realize that you were a trifle well to go, what with you not being used to
so much wine or such late hours. Now I am not going to say any more . . .’
‘Good,’ said Annabelle rudely.
‘The Marquess of Brabington has arrived and we are all to take a little luncheon together so I am come to fetch you.’
‘Then let us go,’ said Annabelle, rising to her feet.
As they went downstairs, Annabelle turned over the events of the previous day, and by the time they reached the dining room, she was beginning to feel very ill-used.
Lord Sylvester had led her on, had led her to believe that his affections were not untouched. Had he not kissed her hand? And had he not said he would see her later?
At least I am now indifferent to him, thought Annabelle rather savagely.
But as they entered the dining room, her eyes flew immediately to the tall figure of Lord Sylvester and she was flooded with such a strong feeling of love and longing that she nearly gasped.
Now with her eyes sharpened with jealousy could Annabelle see the warmth and love in his green eyes as Lord Sylvester walked forwards to meet Minerva.
Tearing her gaze away from this painful sight, she found the Marquess of Brabington looking at her and dropped him a demure curtsy.
Why, she thought, this will not be so very bad after all.
She had forgotten that he was an extremely handsome man with his strong nose, cleft chin, thick black hair, and eyes of a peculiar tawny shade.
He was looking very pale. Then Annabelle became aware of an undercurrent of excitement in the room. All the ladies were chattering and talking gaily and from time to time their eyes would slide
coyly in the direction of the handsome Marquess.
Everyone took their places around the table, Annabelle crossly noticing that Minerva was between the Marquess and Lord Sylvester while she herself was back with Mr Charles Comfrey and Mr John
Frampton.
Since it was more breakfast than luncheon and not a formal meal, conversation went across the table instead of being confined to whoever was on one’s right or one’s left.
Lady Godolphin was seated opposite Annabelle, wearing a nutty brown wig this time, and a more modest dress than she usually affected.
Annabelle poked at the dish of fish, eggs and rice in front of her.
‘What is this?’ asked Annabelle.
‘Kennel grease,’ replied Lady Godolphin. ‘My favourite dish.’
‘She means kedgeree,’ whispered Mr Frampton in Annabelle’s ear. ‘My lady is in form this morning.’
Lady Godolphin kept staring at Annabelle in an unnerving way. She had
the most beautiful girl London has ever seen!’
‘Thank you,’ said Annabelle, lowering her blackened eyelashes to mask a sudden spasm of irritation. Why must Minerva’s praise always be so generous and unaffected? Surely she
must feel just a little jealousy. Now she, Annabelle, was quite pleased to see that her sister was looking a trifle haggard and that she had dark circles under her eyes.
Then several crude and quite unmaidenly thoughts as to how Minerva came by those signs of fatigue flashed through her brain and she became more than ever determined to put Minerva’s nose
out of joint. Just let’s see how sweet Minerva stayed when she realized her famous wedding was to be shared by her sister!
But there was one good thing. If Minerva had not noticed the paint and merely thought Annabelle’s glowing complexion was the result of natural beauty, then so would everyone else.
Feeling composed, she raised her eyes to her sister and said quickly, ‘Merva, I know you have come to scold me about last night. But what did I say that was so very wrong?’
‘I asked Sylvester,’ said Minerva, ‘and you must understand that what you said – in all innocence – was in fact a piece of low cant which should never pass the lips
of any lady. I am only glad you left the company so early. That at least shows some sense. I am sure everyone will realize that you were a trifle well to go, what with you not being used to
so much wine or such late hours. Now I am not going to say any more . . .’
‘Good,’ said Annabelle rudely.
‘The Marquess of Brabington has arrived and we are all to take a little luncheon together so I am come to fetch you.’
‘Then let us go,’ said Annabelle, rising to her feet.
As they went downstairs, Annabelle turned over the events of the previous day, and by the time they reached the dining room, she was beginning to feel very ill-used.
Lord Sylvester had led her on, had led her to believe that his affections were not untouched. Had he not kissed her hand? And had he not said he would see her later?
At least I am now indifferent to him, thought Annabelle rather savagely.
But as they entered the dining room, her eyes flew immediately to the tall figure of Lord Sylvester and she was flooded with such a strong feeling of love and longing that she nearly gasped.
Now with her eyes sharpened with jealousy could Annabelle see the warmth and love in his green eyes as Lord Sylvester walked forwards to meet Minerva.
Tearing her gaze away from this painful sight, she found the Marquess of Brabington looking at her and dropped him a demure curtsy.
Why, she thought, this will not be so very bad after all.
She had forgotten that he was an extremely handsome man with his strong nose, cleft chin, thick black hair, and eyes of a peculiar tawny shade.
He was looking very pale. Then Annabelle became aware of an undercurrent of excitement in the room. All the ladies were chattering and talking gaily and from time to time their eyes would slide
coyly in the direction of the handsome Marquess.
Everyone took their places around the table, Annabelle crossly noticing that Minerva was between the Marquess and Lord Sylvester while she herself was back with Mr Charles Comfrey and Mr John
Frampton.
Since it was more breakfast than luncheon and not a formal meal, conversation went across the table instead of being confined to whoever was on one’s right or one’s left.
Lady Godolphin was seated opposite Annabelle, wearing a nutty brown wig this time, and a more modest dress than she usually affected.
Annabelle poked at the dish of fish, eggs and rice in front of her.
‘What is this?’ asked Annabelle.
‘Kennel grease,’ replied Lady Godolphin. ‘My favourite dish.’
‘She means kedgeree,’ whispered Mr Frampton in Annabelle’s ear. ‘My lady is in form this morning.’
Lady Godolphin kept staring at Annabelle in an unnerving way. She had
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