you, I should be honored. Pray, won’t you be seated again?” He moved a chair forward for her, and Marianne sat down with another flutter of her fan.
Serena took a seat on the sofa and gestured to Abigail that she should sit beside her, effectively ensuring that the general would have to take a chair on his own. Abigail gave her a grateful smile and accepted the invitation. The general had a disconcerting habit of patting her knee, her hand, even her upper arm if he was sitting close beside her. It was a familiarity not practiced in Stoke-on-Trent Society; indeed, ladies and gentlemen in her experience hitherto did not usually sit beside each other in the confined space of a sofa, unless they were betrothed or related in some way.
“So, how can I be of service, dear ma’am?” The general leaned forward with flattering attention.
“It is not so much for me, sir,” Marianne protested. “But for Mr. Sutton. He is in some difficulty about setting up his stable … unfamiliar with the way matters go on at Tattersalls, for instance.”
“Oh, I should be delighted to assist Mr. Sutton,” the general assured her. “Indeed, I am known to be a very fair judge of horseflesh. I’m sure I can advise your husband to good purpose.”
“Oh, I don’t believe my husband needs advice on the horses themselves,” Marianne made haste to assure him. “Indeed, sir, he prides himself on his stables at home. His stud is known the length and breadth of the County, and farmers and gentry alike bring their mares to stud at Bellingham Grove. I doubt there’s another man in the country who could best his judgment on horseflesh.”
Serena hid a smile at this masterly but unintentionalsnub. She could see that her stepfather was distinctly put out, but he could only swallow his chagrin.
He rose rather abruptly to his feet, saying gruffly, “Well, as to that, ma’am, who’s to say? I should be happy to be of service to Mr. Sutton in any way he wishes. He should call upon me. I am generally at home in the mornings. Now, I bid you good day, ma’am … Miss Sutton.” He bowed and marched in soldierly fashion from the parlor.
Marianne and Abigail took their leave almost immediately, leaving Serena to savor the memory of her stepfather for once put out of countenance. And to wonder at the extraordinary request made of herself. To invite her own friends to be guests of someone else was most peculiar.
She was, however, perfectly happy to help with Abigail’s social debut, at least as far as she was able. The highest echelons of Society were as much beyond her as they were beyond the Suttons, although the Suttons didn’t know that. As far as they were concerned, General Heyward and Lady Serena were impeccable members of Society, and that was how it must remain until Abigail was safe from the general’s clutches. She could expose herself and the general for the charlatans they were, of course, but from what she’d seen of Mr. Sutton, his reaction to that would be to sweep his wife and daughter back to the Midlands without ado. And Serena could see no reason Abigail should be deprived of her debut and the opportunity to make a good marriagejust because Heyward was on the prowl. Serena would forestall him somehow, and it would give her enormous pleasure to do so.
Of course, once the highest echelons of Society would not have been beyond her. But there was no point dwelling on the happy times before her mother’s remarriage.
Resolutely, Serena put memories of the past behind her. They only depressed her and made her present existence even harder to endure. At least, her mother had been spared the worst. Life with her second husband had been bad enough, but she had not experienced the worst degradations. Serena could take some measure of comfort in that.
She turned her thoughts down another rather interesting path. Both Mrs. Sutton and Abigail seemed very keen on advancing their acquaintance with the Honorable Sebastian Sullivan.
Serena took a seat on the sofa and gestured to Abigail that she should sit beside her, effectively ensuring that the general would have to take a chair on his own. Abigail gave her a grateful smile and accepted the invitation. The general had a disconcerting habit of patting her knee, her hand, even her upper arm if he was sitting close beside her. It was a familiarity not practiced in Stoke-on-Trent Society; indeed, ladies and gentlemen in her experience hitherto did not usually sit beside each other in the confined space of a sofa, unless they were betrothed or related in some way.
“So, how can I be of service, dear ma’am?” The general leaned forward with flattering attention.
“It is not so much for me, sir,” Marianne protested. “But for Mr. Sutton. He is in some difficulty about setting up his stable … unfamiliar with the way matters go on at Tattersalls, for instance.”
“Oh, I should be delighted to assist Mr. Sutton,” the general assured her. “Indeed, I am known to be a very fair judge of horseflesh. I’m sure I can advise your husband to good purpose.”
“Oh, I don’t believe my husband needs advice on the horses themselves,” Marianne made haste to assure him. “Indeed, sir, he prides himself on his stables at home. His stud is known the length and breadth of the County, and farmers and gentry alike bring their mares to stud at Bellingham Grove. I doubt there’s another man in the country who could best his judgment on horseflesh.”
Serena hid a smile at this masterly but unintentionalsnub. She could see that her stepfather was distinctly put out, but he could only swallow his chagrin.
He rose rather abruptly to his feet, saying gruffly, “Well, as to that, ma’am, who’s to say? I should be happy to be of service to Mr. Sutton in any way he wishes. He should call upon me. I am generally at home in the mornings. Now, I bid you good day, ma’am … Miss Sutton.” He bowed and marched in soldierly fashion from the parlor.
Marianne and Abigail took their leave almost immediately, leaving Serena to savor the memory of her stepfather for once put out of countenance. And to wonder at the extraordinary request made of herself. To invite her own friends to be guests of someone else was most peculiar.
She was, however, perfectly happy to help with Abigail’s social debut, at least as far as she was able. The highest echelons of Society were as much beyond her as they were beyond the Suttons, although the Suttons didn’t know that. As far as they were concerned, General Heyward and Lady Serena were impeccable members of Society, and that was how it must remain until Abigail was safe from the general’s clutches. She could expose herself and the general for the charlatans they were, of course, but from what she’d seen of Mr. Sutton, his reaction to that would be to sweep his wife and daughter back to the Midlands without ado. And Serena could see no reason Abigail should be deprived of her debut and the opportunity to make a good marriagejust because Heyward was on the prowl. Serena would forestall him somehow, and it would give her enormous pleasure to do so.
Of course, once the highest echelons of Society would not have been beyond her. But there was no point dwelling on the happy times before her mother’s remarriage.
Resolutely, Serena put memories of the past behind her. They only depressed her and made her present existence even harder to endure. At least, her mother had been spared the worst. Life with her second husband had been bad enough, but she had not experienced the worst degradations. Serena could take some measure of comfort in that.
She turned her thoughts down another rather interesting path. Both Mrs. Sutton and Abigail seemed very keen on advancing their acquaintance with the Honorable Sebastian Sullivan.
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