of value and what you may wish to throw out the window. But, if I might suggest...”
Chloe did not respond, but she lifted her expressive brows.
“Return to London with your guardian,” continued Hester. “Attend the dinner party with good grace and be courteous to Mr. Wery and his parents. If nothing else, by doing so you will throw Lord Bythorne into utter confusion.”
“But, what will all that accomplish?” asked Chloe in some indignation. “If I am nice to John Wery, will I not find myself at the altar that much sooner?”
“Mm, perhaps, but perhaps not. Just what is it that your guardian finds so desirable in Mr. Wery?”
“Well—he’s steady and reliable and dependable and all those boring things, and he has his own estate, which produces a comfortable income.”
“I see. Formidable attributes indeed. Does he not have any flaws? Does he gamble, or is he a womanizer?”
“No,” replied Chloe bitterly. “He is a perfect pattern card of virtue. Do you wonder that I cannot abide him?”
Hester’s lips twitched. “He sounds perfectly impossible. I wonder,” she added thoughtfully after a moment, “if you should adjust your strategy.”
Chloe glanced at her questioningly.
“I think we discussed the possibility before that instead of trying to convince Lord Bythorne to abandon his campaign to wed you to Mr. Wery, perhaps you should be endeavoring to convince Mr. Wery that you are not the bride for him.”
Chloe’s expression changed slowly to one of comprehension. “Mm, yes, I recall your advice, but so far I have done nothing to create an aversion to me.”
Hester nodded. “I do not mean that you should plunge yourself into a scandal, of course,” she said hastily, “but simply get to know him well—his preferences, his plans for the future, et cetera, and then make him realize that you will not fit in with his desires.”
“Yes,” chimed Chloe eagerly. “I have never expounded at any length on my theories of feminism, but if I were to do so . . .”
“Mr. Wery would no doubt begin to view you with the utmost alarm.”
“Yes. And if I were to make it clear that I relish living in London and have no intention of rusticating on a fusty little estate in Hertfordshire and ...”
“Do you enjoy life in London so much?” asked Hester in surprise.
“Well, no. In fact, my happiest times with Uncle Thorne have been the months we’ve stayed at Bythorne Park, but Mr. Wery need not know that, and I think,” concluded Chloe judiciously, “that since he is the thrifty sort, I shall make it a point of remarking on the number and the cost of my gowns—and on the quantity of jewels I shall require as a married lady—with some slight exaggeration, of course.”
Hester laughed outright. “You will have the poor man fleeing in alarm inside a fortnight.” She sobered a little. “On the other hand, you might want to reexamine your position with Lord Bythorne. Now that we have decided he truly has your best interests at heart, there is really no point in setting his back up needlessly, is there? I mean, if he does mistreat you—”
“Oh no. In fact, when I first came to live with him and Aunt Lavinia, I quite liked him. He is so handsome, and he always shared the latest on-dits with me—well, some of them, anyway, for despite his own scandalous reputation,” she continued austerely, “he is quite strict with me. And he never minded my attending feminist lectures, or reading your books and pamphlets. He considers them of such little account, you see,” she added in explanation.
“Does he?” replied Hester, an edge to her voice.
“Oh yes,” said Chloe, unheeding. “When I told him I wished to go to the lecture you gave at the Assembly Building in Westminster, he simply laughed, and asked if I shouldn’t like him to take me to see the learned pig on display at the Bartholomew Fair as well.”
“I see.” Hester’s voice could have cut glass. She rose abruptly. “Why don’t
Chloe did not respond, but she lifted her expressive brows.
“Return to London with your guardian,” continued Hester. “Attend the dinner party with good grace and be courteous to Mr. Wery and his parents. If nothing else, by doing so you will throw Lord Bythorne into utter confusion.”
“But, what will all that accomplish?” asked Chloe in some indignation. “If I am nice to John Wery, will I not find myself at the altar that much sooner?”
“Mm, perhaps, but perhaps not. Just what is it that your guardian finds so desirable in Mr. Wery?”
“Well—he’s steady and reliable and dependable and all those boring things, and he has his own estate, which produces a comfortable income.”
“I see. Formidable attributes indeed. Does he not have any flaws? Does he gamble, or is he a womanizer?”
“No,” replied Chloe bitterly. “He is a perfect pattern card of virtue. Do you wonder that I cannot abide him?”
Hester’s lips twitched. “He sounds perfectly impossible. I wonder,” she added thoughtfully after a moment, “if you should adjust your strategy.”
Chloe glanced at her questioningly.
“I think we discussed the possibility before that instead of trying to convince Lord Bythorne to abandon his campaign to wed you to Mr. Wery, perhaps you should be endeavoring to convince Mr. Wery that you are not the bride for him.”
Chloe’s expression changed slowly to one of comprehension. “Mm, yes, I recall your advice, but so far I have done nothing to create an aversion to me.”
Hester nodded. “I do not mean that you should plunge yourself into a scandal, of course,” she said hastily, “but simply get to know him well—his preferences, his plans for the future, et cetera, and then make him realize that you will not fit in with his desires.”
“Yes,” chimed Chloe eagerly. “I have never expounded at any length on my theories of feminism, but if I were to do so . . .”
“Mr. Wery would no doubt begin to view you with the utmost alarm.”
“Yes. And if I were to make it clear that I relish living in London and have no intention of rusticating on a fusty little estate in Hertfordshire and ...”
“Do you enjoy life in London so much?” asked Hester in surprise.
“Well, no. In fact, my happiest times with Uncle Thorne have been the months we’ve stayed at Bythorne Park, but Mr. Wery need not know that, and I think,” concluded Chloe judiciously, “that since he is the thrifty sort, I shall make it a point of remarking on the number and the cost of my gowns—and on the quantity of jewels I shall require as a married lady—with some slight exaggeration, of course.”
Hester laughed outright. “You will have the poor man fleeing in alarm inside a fortnight.” She sobered a little. “On the other hand, you might want to reexamine your position with Lord Bythorne. Now that we have decided he truly has your best interests at heart, there is really no point in setting his back up needlessly, is there? I mean, if he does mistreat you—”
“Oh no. In fact, when I first came to live with him and Aunt Lavinia, I quite liked him. He is so handsome, and he always shared the latest on-dits with me—well, some of them, anyway, for despite his own scandalous reputation,” she continued austerely, “he is quite strict with me. And he never minded my attending feminist lectures, or reading your books and pamphlets. He considers them of such little account, you see,” she added in explanation.
“Does he?” replied Hester, an edge to her voice.
“Oh yes,” said Chloe, unheeding. “When I told him I wished to go to the lecture you gave at the Assembly Building in Westminster, he simply laughed, and asked if I shouldn’t like him to take me to see the learned pig on display at the Bartholomew Fair as well.”
“I see.” Hester’s voice could have cut glass. She rose abruptly. “Why don’t
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