schoolgirl.”
Thea set aside the book. “Shall I help you with that difficult bit of drawn-thread work you gave up on last night?”
Her volatile sister was happily absorbed in her needlework when Penny came in, pale after her daily bout of morning sickness.
“You all enjoy embroidery,” she said, smiling, “yet I recall Meg telling me that none of you is a good needlewoman.”
“That was when we had to do all the plain sewing,” Meg explained. “Shifts and sheets and suchlike we managed, though they were so very dull! We are all utterly inept when it comes to making patterns for gowns and stitching them together so that they fit.” She dropped her work, ran to Penny, and hugged her. “Dearest Penny, you are a darling to be so generous to us. It is fun sewing little, pretty things, but I vow I never want to make up a gown again. Now come and sit down by the fire and I shall bring your footstool.”
Meg was fussing with shawls and fire-screens when a thunderous knocking at the front door startled them all. The bell pealed violently three times, then, in a sudden hush, they heard hurried footsteps in the hall as Dunmow rushed to answer the summons. Before he reached the door, the din resumed.
The thunder ended in a crash and a bellow. “Where’s my niece?”
Penny turned deathly white. “Uncle Vaughn,” she whispered.
Thea had almost forgotten about Mr. Vaughn since the evidence of his malice had been concealed by the redecorating. She knew he had driven Penny to elope with Dr. Angus Knox, but she knew little else, as Penny refused to talk about him.
“Y-your niece, sir?” stammered Dunmow in the hall.
“Lady Kilmore, she calls herself now, the ungrateful hussy.”
“Her ladyship is not at home,” the butler said resolutely. His dignity would be irreparably compromised if he admitted to the house someone who called his mistress a hussy.
The ladies listening petrified in the morning-room heard a thud and a gasp.
“Not at home? If you mean she’s not receiving visitors, she’ll see her uncle or I’ll tear the place down about her ears.”
“I believe her ladyship is still abovestairs.” Dunmow sounded shaky.
“Then go and see, man!” roared the intruder.
The butler did his best to regain his composure. “Whom shall I announce, sir?”
“Say her dearest Uncle Vaughn has come to pay a bride visit.” The suddenly smooth, unpleasant tone was somehow more frightening than his noisy threats.
“Jason!” Penny moaned faintly. “Oh, Jason, where are you?”
Meg, her eyes bright with excitement, patted her arm. The dowager cowered in her chair. Thea discovered her hands were trembling. Every gaze was fixed on the door to the hall in horrified anticipation.
Dunmow entered through the connecting door to the dining-room. “To mislead him as to your whereabouts, my lady,” he explained in a hoarse whisper, exploring his shoulder gingerly with his other hand.
“That was clever of you,” Thea said softly, though it could not delay the brute more than a few seconds. “Did he hit you?”
“Yes, miss, but it’s all right.” He straightened his back, tugged down his waistcoat, smoothed his black coat, and continued in a low voice, “Mr. Vaughn to pay a bride visit, my lady, and what are we to do? He’s too big for me to tackle alone, and that’s a fact.”
“The footmen?” Thea asked, though she knew the answer all too well.
“George is out running errands, miss, and it’s Geoffrey’s day off.”
“I’ll tell him Penny is ill and cannot see him,” Meg suggested with undaunted spirit.
She was so small and young and pretty, he would never take her seriously. If he came to blows again, she might be badly injured. Thea stood up, taking a deep breath.
“I shall speak to Mr. Vaughn, Dunmow,” she said, amazed at the steadiness of her voice. “We shall go through the dining-room.”
He followed her reluctantly, hanging back.
Mr. Vaughn was still in the hall, near the
Thea set aside the book. “Shall I help you with that difficult bit of drawn-thread work you gave up on last night?”
Her volatile sister was happily absorbed in her needlework when Penny came in, pale after her daily bout of morning sickness.
“You all enjoy embroidery,” she said, smiling, “yet I recall Meg telling me that none of you is a good needlewoman.”
“That was when we had to do all the plain sewing,” Meg explained. “Shifts and sheets and suchlike we managed, though they were so very dull! We are all utterly inept when it comes to making patterns for gowns and stitching them together so that they fit.” She dropped her work, ran to Penny, and hugged her. “Dearest Penny, you are a darling to be so generous to us. It is fun sewing little, pretty things, but I vow I never want to make up a gown again. Now come and sit down by the fire and I shall bring your footstool.”
Meg was fussing with shawls and fire-screens when a thunderous knocking at the front door startled them all. The bell pealed violently three times, then, in a sudden hush, they heard hurried footsteps in the hall as Dunmow rushed to answer the summons. Before he reached the door, the din resumed.
The thunder ended in a crash and a bellow. “Where’s my niece?”
Penny turned deathly white. “Uncle Vaughn,” she whispered.
Thea had almost forgotten about Mr. Vaughn since the evidence of his malice had been concealed by the redecorating. She knew he had driven Penny to elope with Dr. Angus Knox, but she knew little else, as Penny refused to talk about him.
“Y-your niece, sir?” stammered Dunmow in the hall.
“Lady Kilmore, she calls herself now, the ungrateful hussy.”
“Her ladyship is not at home,” the butler said resolutely. His dignity would be irreparably compromised if he admitted to the house someone who called his mistress a hussy.
The ladies listening petrified in the morning-room heard a thud and a gasp.
“Not at home? If you mean she’s not receiving visitors, she’ll see her uncle or I’ll tear the place down about her ears.”
“I believe her ladyship is still abovestairs.” Dunmow sounded shaky.
“Then go and see, man!” roared the intruder.
The butler did his best to regain his composure. “Whom shall I announce, sir?”
“Say her dearest Uncle Vaughn has come to pay a bride visit.” The suddenly smooth, unpleasant tone was somehow more frightening than his noisy threats.
“Jason!” Penny moaned faintly. “Oh, Jason, where are you?”
Meg, her eyes bright with excitement, patted her arm. The dowager cowered in her chair. Thea discovered her hands were trembling. Every gaze was fixed on the door to the hall in horrified anticipation.
Dunmow entered through the connecting door to the dining-room. “To mislead him as to your whereabouts, my lady,” he explained in a hoarse whisper, exploring his shoulder gingerly with his other hand.
“That was clever of you,” Thea said softly, though it could not delay the brute more than a few seconds. “Did he hit you?”
“Yes, miss, but it’s all right.” He straightened his back, tugged down his waistcoat, smoothed his black coat, and continued in a low voice, “Mr. Vaughn to pay a bride visit, my lady, and what are we to do? He’s too big for me to tackle alone, and that’s a fact.”
“The footmen?” Thea asked, though she knew the answer all too well.
“George is out running errands, miss, and it’s Geoffrey’s day off.”
“I’ll tell him Penny is ill and cannot see him,” Meg suggested with undaunted spirit.
She was so small and young and pretty, he would never take her seriously. If he came to blows again, she might be badly injured. Thea stood up, taking a deep breath.
“I shall speak to Mr. Vaughn, Dunmow,” she said, amazed at the steadiness of her voice. “We shall go through the dining-room.”
He followed her reluctantly, hanging back.
Mr. Vaughn was still in the hall, near the
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