up a hand to silence her. “No,” he said, feeling chastened. “Perhaps you are right. Either way, I have certainly learned a great deal today.”
She looked at him rather intently for a few moments. Then she glanced past him to the clock on the desk. “It is nearly four,” she said. “I must be going.”
He rose, watching as she put on her bonnet. When she had done so, he said, “My sisters would be pleased to make your acquaintance before you take your leave.”
She seemed to consider it. “All right,” she said at last. He led her out and down to the drawing room which, at this late hour, was mercifully empty save his sisters. He would not have liked to have to explain what Miss Endersby had been doing in the library for the last two hours to a group of guests.
“Miss Endersby,” Imogen said sweetly, rising to greet her.
“My sisters, Lady Imogen Bainbridge,” Charles said, and when Gilly had reached him he added, “and Lady Gillian Bainbridge.”
Miss Endersby curtseyed prettily. “It is a great pleasure to meet you both.”
Imogen took her hand. “Charles, go away now,” she said. He bowed his head, trying to hide his smirk.
“Until Thursday, Miss Endersby.” Then he took his leave, escaping into the silent hall.
The drawing room door closed silently. Cynthia turned and gave the duke’s sisters the smile that said she was no threat to them, the smile that said she was someone they wanted as a friend. She had practiced this smile, just as she had practiced all her public expressions, for hours in her looking glass under the careful tutelage of Miss Cartwright, the governess her father had selected to teach her the social graces she would need to gain power in this mercenary world. They had worked over each glance, each smile and nod, until they expressed perfectly the sentiments Miss Cartwright had felt Cynthia would need to convey. Now they were second nature. Sometimes Cynthia even forgot which she was, the society belle or the girl hidden behind the mask.
“Will you take some tea, Miss Endersby?” the elder sister, Lady Imogen, asked. “I’m sure my oaf of a brother can’t have offered you anything.”
“That would be very welcome,” Cynthia said, for she had been talking almost nonstop for the last two hours, and it was true that the duke had not offered her any refreshments. She wondered if she could expand her lessons to cover social graces as well. “But I have no wish to intrude, and the hour is very late.”
“Oh, we don’t worry about such things,” Lady Gillian said. “And we have been so eager to meet you.” Ah, Cynthia thought. Here is the rebel in the family. There was one in every set of siblings, she had found, and it was often not the child who most wished to appear rebellious and disobedient.
Cynthia took the seat they offered on the expensively upholstered sofa and watched as Lady Imogen poured. “What a lovely set,” she commented mildly.
Lady Gillian wrinkled her nose at the statement. When her sister looked pointedly at her, she said, “Oh, no more tea for me, Imogen, or I shall flood. Tell us, Miss Endersby, what is it like being so frightfully clever?”
“Gilly!” Lady Imogen hissed.
Cynthia took the cup Imogen held. “It’s quite all right, Lady Imogen, I assure you. I don’t consider myself clever, Lady Gillian, though I will lay claim to an excellent memory. And I had an exceptional teacher, too, you know.” It was a pack of lies, but the ladies did not need to know that. Cynthia could be honest with their brother, whom she had no desire to impress, but the ladies were her link to future clients, and it was essential that she not alienate them.
“Your father was once an Oxford professor, was he not?”
“Yes, and I certainly felt the benefit of it.”
“It sounds heavenly,” Lady Gillian sighed. “Being allowed to read whatever you like, to debate the ideas of the day.”
Cynthia fought to suppress a cynical remark. She
She looked at him rather intently for a few moments. Then she glanced past him to the clock on the desk. “It is nearly four,” she said. “I must be going.”
He rose, watching as she put on her bonnet. When she had done so, he said, “My sisters would be pleased to make your acquaintance before you take your leave.”
She seemed to consider it. “All right,” she said at last. He led her out and down to the drawing room which, at this late hour, was mercifully empty save his sisters. He would not have liked to have to explain what Miss Endersby had been doing in the library for the last two hours to a group of guests.
“Miss Endersby,” Imogen said sweetly, rising to greet her.
“My sisters, Lady Imogen Bainbridge,” Charles said, and when Gilly had reached him he added, “and Lady Gillian Bainbridge.”
Miss Endersby curtseyed prettily. “It is a great pleasure to meet you both.”
Imogen took her hand. “Charles, go away now,” she said. He bowed his head, trying to hide his smirk.
“Until Thursday, Miss Endersby.” Then he took his leave, escaping into the silent hall.
The drawing room door closed silently. Cynthia turned and gave the duke’s sisters the smile that said she was no threat to them, the smile that said she was someone they wanted as a friend. She had practiced this smile, just as she had practiced all her public expressions, for hours in her looking glass under the careful tutelage of Miss Cartwright, the governess her father had selected to teach her the social graces she would need to gain power in this mercenary world. They had worked over each glance, each smile and nod, until they expressed perfectly the sentiments Miss Cartwright had felt Cynthia would need to convey. Now they were second nature. Sometimes Cynthia even forgot which she was, the society belle or the girl hidden behind the mask.
“Will you take some tea, Miss Endersby?” the elder sister, Lady Imogen, asked. “I’m sure my oaf of a brother can’t have offered you anything.”
“That would be very welcome,” Cynthia said, for she had been talking almost nonstop for the last two hours, and it was true that the duke had not offered her any refreshments. She wondered if she could expand her lessons to cover social graces as well. “But I have no wish to intrude, and the hour is very late.”
“Oh, we don’t worry about such things,” Lady Gillian said. “And we have been so eager to meet you.” Ah, Cynthia thought. Here is the rebel in the family. There was one in every set of siblings, she had found, and it was often not the child who most wished to appear rebellious and disobedient.
Cynthia took the seat they offered on the expensively upholstered sofa and watched as Lady Imogen poured. “What a lovely set,” she commented mildly.
Lady Gillian wrinkled her nose at the statement. When her sister looked pointedly at her, she said, “Oh, no more tea for me, Imogen, or I shall flood. Tell us, Miss Endersby, what is it like being so frightfully clever?”
“Gilly!” Lady Imogen hissed.
Cynthia took the cup Imogen held. “It’s quite all right, Lady Imogen, I assure you. I don’t consider myself clever, Lady Gillian, though I will lay claim to an excellent memory. And I had an exceptional teacher, too, you know.” It was a pack of lies, but the ladies did not need to know that. Cynthia could be honest with their brother, whom she had no desire to impress, but the ladies were her link to future clients, and it was essential that she not alienate them.
“Your father was once an Oxford professor, was he not?”
“Yes, and I certainly felt the benefit of it.”
“It sounds heavenly,” Lady Gillian sighed. “Being allowed to read whatever you like, to debate the ideas of the day.”
Cynthia fought to suppress a cynical remark. She
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