Amanda Scott by Madcap Marchioness Page A

London. Her friend Sarah and Lord Clifford also arrived, and others, but nearly everyone was on his way to Brighton, and with the races starting Friday, no one wished to linger. Even Alston, arriving late Tuesday afternoon with his sister, his wife, and her brother, Mr. Ringwell, would stay only until Thursday morning. The viscount had wagered heavily on one of the entries in the Brighton races.
    “Some nag called Houghton Lass in the Somerset stakes,” Miranda told Adriana soon after their arrival. “That’s the first race, so I’ve no doubt he’s made wagers on others as well. Of course, he has said I may not spend any more money this month. I have spent my allowance, he says, and that is that.”
    “Well, have you done so?”
    “To be sure,” Miranda admitted. “Who would not have spent such a pittance? I might have got more out of him, I suppose, only he was angry with me.”
    Adriana, encountering a grin from Sarah Clifford, engaged some yards away in animated conversation with Sally, grinned back, then said, “In the briars again, Randy?”
    “Oh, only for flirting, but he had said I was not to speak with the gentleman. He was never so strict with you, Dree.”
    “I obeyed him, my dear. You do not.”
    “You flouted his authority often! I remember—”
    “Ah, but I never did what he specifically told me not to do. His intent might well have been different from his order, like when he told me I was not to demean myself by going with Lady Ashford to a public ball at Vauxhall. After I went anyway, with Miss Bennett and her mama—and her handsome brother, of course—I pleaded confusion over the exact meaning of his order, which made Alston feel superior—to a poor, stupid female, you know—so he forgave me.” She smiled. “Mama was used to say that if one put a brick wall before us, I would find a way around it while you would attempt to bash your way through. You haven’t changed.”
    “Nor you, I think. But imagine, Dree, I shall have to be in Brighton a full week before I shall be allowed to purchase so much as a new ribbon. And say what you like, our brother is an unconscionable pinchpenny, and that is all there is about it.”
    “Come with me,” Adriana commanded, nodding and smiling to her other guests as she led her sister through the dining room to the stair hall. Moments later, Miranda exclaimed her approval of the marchioness’s sitting room and bedchamber while Adriana moved swiftly through the latter to open a carved wooden box on the table by her bed. “Here,” she said, holding out a wad of folded notes. “Buy yourself something pretty.”
    “Adriana!” Miranda moved forward, not taking her eyes from the money. “Such a lot!”
    Adriana grinned at her. “’Tis less than half of what Joshua gave me, but there has as yet been no opportunity to spend it hereabouts. If we go into Hythe, as I am certain we will, he will go with me, so I shall not have to pay for anything, and since we do not go to Brighton—”
    “Are you truly not to go at all?”
    Adriana shrugged. “I mean to do what I can to change his mind, but so far he’s proved adamant. I flew out at him last night, I’m afraid, after I’d made myself a solemn promise I wouldn’t do any such thing. He had come up with me so that I might change my gown for a warmer one, and we no sooner returned to the hall than Sally mentioned Prinny’s birthday celebration. When I said that perhaps we might join them on such an important occasion, he contradicted me on the spot. I was mortified.”
    “Goodness, Dree,” exclaimed Miranda, “never tell us you ripped up at him in front of Sally Villiers!”
    Adriana shook her head. “Of course not. I am not such a fool. But, I promise you, I did tell him as soon as Sally and George had retired for the night and we were alone that he ought not to have contradicted me as he did.”
    “And what did he say to that?”
    “That I ought not to say things I know are not so if I do not