position to cast stones.
Penelope cocked her head. “But I don’t understand this, Mother.”
“He is offering to sponsor you, ninny!” her mother laughed. “What more could there possibly be to understand?”
“But why?” her sister pressed, reaching for the letter that still dangled from their mother’s fingers. “He says he owed Father a ‘kindness’. Does that mean he was in our family’s debt? If so, why doesn’t he just give us financial reparation? Hosting a Season seems like an almost limitless expense, not to mention a social imposition.” She turned to Miranda expectantly. “Did you find such a debt owed to Papa when you went through the records?”
Miranda turned slowly to stare at her sister. She could almost feel the lies beginning to bubble on her lips and they were bitter, indeed.
But before she had to speak them, their mother interrupted by snatching the letter away. “Who gives two figs about the circumstances? You shall have a wonderful Season, Penelope! That is all that matters, so don’t argue the point.”
Penelope didn’t seem moved by that statement. “I simply wonder at the cost. Lord Rothschild has never been close to our family and he is certainly not known as giving.”
Miranda stepped forward, driven to defend Ethan against her sister’s condemnation. Especially considering how “giving” he had been to her in their last two encounters, always thinking of her pleasure before his own. And not even taking his the last time.
“Yes, he is!”
The room fell silent for a second time, but it was Miranda who everyone was staring at this time. Even her mother, who was mostly studying Ethan’s letter with a focused smile, wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“What are you talking about?” Penelope asked, her handscoming to her hips. “You have only met the man a few times, yourself. And you know his reputation!”
Miranda shifted, silently berating herself for her outburst. She had no need to defend Ethan and the action only foolishly brought attention to her.
“I-I only mean that he must be generous in some fashion or he wouldn’t have made such an offer.” She shrugged and kept her gaze away from Penelope’s. Her sister could read her too well. “I agree with Mother. Perhaps it’s best not to argue or explain away this unexpected gift, Penelope. We must accept it and try to make the most of this Season he wants to give you.”
Penelope stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. “You agree with Mother?” she repeated blankly.
Beatrice chuckled. “This is a first.”
Even Winifred looked incredulous.
“It’s the first sensible thing she’s said in months,” her mother sniffed. “I must begin making arrangements. There will be new gowns to order, we must find a flat in London for the Season. Oh, it shall be beyond wonderful!”
“Mother!” Miranda threw her hands in the air. They’d had the promise of money for all of two minutes and already her mother had spent it all and then some. “We do not even know how much he intends to—”
Their mother waved her protests off and made for the door. “Come along Penelope, Winifred, Beatrice.”
Her younger sisters followed immediately, but Penelope stayed where she was, continuing to stare at Miranda with an incredulous expression. Miranda fought to keep her own countenancefree of any emotion. The last thing she wanted was for Penelope to ferret out the truth. No doubt her sheltered sister would be shocked if she knew the lengths Miranda had gone to.
“I’ll be along in a moment, Mama,” Penelope said softly. “I wish to talk to Miranda first.”
“There is so much to do. Don’t be long!” their mother ordered before she swept from the room and left the two older sisters alone.
Penelope tilted her head. “Did you know of this before Mama received Rothschild’s missive?”
Miranda’s eyes went wide. “Of course not, why would you believe that?”
“Your reaction, Miranda! You
Penelope cocked her head. “But I don’t understand this, Mother.”
“He is offering to sponsor you, ninny!” her mother laughed. “What more could there possibly be to understand?”
“But why?” her sister pressed, reaching for the letter that still dangled from their mother’s fingers. “He says he owed Father a ‘kindness’. Does that mean he was in our family’s debt? If so, why doesn’t he just give us financial reparation? Hosting a Season seems like an almost limitless expense, not to mention a social imposition.” She turned to Miranda expectantly. “Did you find such a debt owed to Papa when you went through the records?”
Miranda turned slowly to stare at her sister. She could almost feel the lies beginning to bubble on her lips and they were bitter, indeed.
But before she had to speak them, their mother interrupted by snatching the letter away. “Who gives two figs about the circumstances? You shall have a wonderful Season, Penelope! That is all that matters, so don’t argue the point.”
Penelope didn’t seem moved by that statement. “I simply wonder at the cost. Lord Rothschild has never been close to our family and he is certainly not known as giving.”
Miranda stepped forward, driven to defend Ethan against her sister’s condemnation. Especially considering how “giving” he had been to her in their last two encounters, always thinking of her pleasure before his own. And not even taking his the last time.
“Yes, he is!”
The room fell silent for a second time, but it was Miranda who everyone was staring at this time. Even her mother, who was mostly studying Ethan’s letter with a focused smile, wrinkled her forehead in confusion.
“What are you talking about?” Penelope asked, her handscoming to her hips. “You have only met the man a few times, yourself. And you know his reputation!”
Miranda shifted, silently berating herself for her outburst. She had no need to defend Ethan and the action only foolishly brought attention to her.
“I-I only mean that he must be generous in some fashion or he wouldn’t have made such an offer.” She shrugged and kept her gaze away from Penelope’s. Her sister could read her too well. “I agree with Mother. Perhaps it’s best not to argue or explain away this unexpected gift, Penelope. We must accept it and try to make the most of this Season he wants to give you.”
Penelope stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. “You agree with Mother?” she repeated blankly.
Beatrice chuckled. “This is a first.”
Even Winifred looked incredulous.
“It’s the first sensible thing she’s said in months,” her mother sniffed. “I must begin making arrangements. There will be new gowns to order, we must find a flat in London for the Season. Oh, it shall be beyond wonderful!”
“Mother!” Miranda threw her hands in the air. They’d had the promise of money for all of two minutes and already her mother had spent it all and then some. “We do not even know how much he intends to—”
Their mother waved her protests off and made for the door. “Come along Penelope, Winifred, Beatrice.”
Her younger sisters followed immediately, but Penelope stayed where she was, continuing to stare at Miranda with an incredulous expression. Miranda fought to keep her own countenancefree of any emotion. The last thing she wanted was for Penelope to ferret out the truth. No doubt her sheltered sister would be shocked if she knew the lengths Miranda had gone to.
“I’ll be along in a moment, Mama,” Penelope said softly. “I wish to talk to Miranda first.”
“There is so much to do. Don’t be long!” their mother ordered before she swept from the room and left the two older sisters alone.
Penelope tilted her head. “Did you know of this before Mama received Rothschild’s missive?”
Miranda’s eyes went wide. “Of course not, why would you believe that?”
“Your reaction, Miranda! You
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