Victoria and the Rogue by Meg Cabot Page B

Jacob Carstairs—nor he with me—because it wouldn’t do to marry him
    at all. His house is already perfect, run to perfection by his mother. And he already has money. Why, he
    doesn’t need me a bit. I wouldn’t have a thing to occupy my time all day long. I feel sorry for whomever
    he does end up marrying. She’ll have a very dull time of it.
    Victoria became even more convinced of this when it came time for the men to disappear for cigars and
    brandy while the women repaired to the drawing room for coffee. Mrs. Carstairs even gossiped divinely!
    She did not, of course, say anything that could at all be construed as malicious—she was much too
    ladylike for that—but she did mention a certain young lady whom her son had happened to see at a
    picnic at a park who—and here Victoria feared very much she would hear about her own little escapade
    with a certain footpad, and glanced nervously at Rebecca lest she give away the identity of this young
    lady with her surprised reaction….
    But it turned out she needn’t have feared, since the young lady Mrs. Carstairs was speaking of was the
    one who’d dampened her skirts to make them cling more provocatively to her legs. Victoria blushed
    nonetheless, knowing now that Jacob had noticed the scandalously clad girl at Lord Malfrey’s picnic, and
    had relayed her description—though not, apparently, the fact that Victoria and her cousin had been at the
    event as well.
    “It really does make me so very relieved,” Mrs. Carstairs went on as she passed Victoria a plate of
    sugared wafers, “that my own daughter is married and grown, with a baby of her own. For I do not think
    I could raise a girl in this day and age—though you, Beatrice, seem to manage quite well. Still, I don’t
    envy you. So many young women today seem so wild! Imagine, soaking your skirts with water on
    purpose! Why, you could catch your death.”
    Victoria, nibbling on one of the wafers, regarded Mrs. Carstairs with interest. So Jacob had an elder
    sister! A sister old enough to be married with a child. How intriguing. Victoria could not picture the very
    self-assured captain with a sister, particularly an elder one. She wondered if Jacob’s sister had ever
    tortured him when he was younger the way she and Rebecca, when they were very bored, enjoyed
    torturing her younger brothers, by sprinkling them with rosewater through the stairwell and dressing their
    hair in bows while they slept.
    Victoria did not have time to wonder about this for long, since soon the men joined them again, and the
    conversation shifted back to less scandalous topics. The fact that there was to be a full moon that night,
    and that an eyeglass Captain Carstairs had ordered all the way from Italy was newly arrived, led
    everyone—with the exception of Mr. Gardiner, who had fallen asleep in a chair by the fire—out to the
    terrace leading off the drawing room, where they took turns peering through the lens—though with all the
    clouds, only the barest glimpse of the moon could be seen. The damp soon drove the other ladies back
    inside, but Victoria was determined to stay outside until she saw, as Rebecca had, the Dead Sea, and she
    refused to budge until the swiftly moving clouds overhead parted enough to award her a view.
    To her irritation, Jacob Carstairs stayed outside as well… no doubt, she told herself bitterly, to make
    sure she did not drop or otherwise harm his precious new plaything.
    “You needn’t fear for footpads out here,” she informed him very sarcastically. “I promise I shan’t let
    anyone steal it.”
    “No,” Captain Carstairs said with the tiniest of smiles, visible in the candlelight that spilled through the
    terrace doors. “I don’t imagine that you would. I rather fear for any footpads that come your way.”
    Victoria snorted. “That certainly wasn’t what you were saying the other day.”
    “I was in a foul mood the other day,” Jacob admitted. “I meant to ask your pardon for