qualities, too? Perhaps he likes her, the same as you do.”
“He’s not worthy of her!”
“Why, because his pockets are to let? It’s not his fault, Miss Rowe, that his father gambled away his inheritance and left him with a mound of debts and a mortgaged estate. He’s done his best to hold on to Podell Hall for his descendants. And you shouldn’t fault a man for the cut of his coat.” Or the length of his hair. “Franny can’t participate in all the expensive pastimes of his cronies, so he indulges in his tailoring. He’s entitled to some pleasure, isn’t he?”
“I suppose I’ve judged him too harshly,” Audrina conceded. “But a man’s character doesn’t show at first; his peacock’s costume does.”
“I can swear to his character, Miss Rowe. Frances Podell is a good friend, brave and loyal. He’s not a gambler or a womanizer. He’s just a terrible dresser.”
“Carrie thinks he’s elegant.” Audrina shrugged. “At least he’s better than Prendergast.”
“Good grief, even a loveless marriage to Franny would be better than that. And I guarantee this isn’t merely a match of convenience. Just look at them. You’d have to be blind not to see they are well suited.”
Dree didn’t have to look. She knew what she’d see: February lovebirds smelling of April and May. And she couldn’t look over at the couple ice-dancing on clouds behind her, for she was too busy gathering a handful of the remains of last week’s snowfall. She launched her hurriedly rounded missile with deadly accuracy at his lordship’s high-crowned beaver hat. “It’s too lovely a day to be so stuffy.”
His lordship was not amused. He turned and dived after the hat—and his escaping hairpiece—while Dree was still giggling. Max slammed the hat back on before anyone could see what was inside it, instead of being on his head. He was sputtering with anger. Thistlewaite wasn’t there for him to strangle, so he took his rage out on Audrina. “You…you brat! How dare you? Go play with the other children.”
That hurt. Dree had been running her father’s household for years, and taking on responsibilities for the parish long before most girls put their skirts down. She knew the earl could never see her as an equal, no matter how pleasantly he acted toward her, since their worlds were so far apart. Yet she thought they might be friends. She’d only meant to bring him some fun, not remind him she was naught but a vicar’s ragtag brat.
The others were taking up the game, the men tossing snowballs while the ladies squealed. Lady Halbersham snuck up behind her husband, who was aiming at Franny, and dumped a handful of snow down his collar. Lord Halbersham turned with a roar and scooped his wife up, to deposit her facedown in the bank of cleared snow at the edge of the pond.
Lord Blanford stalked off.
“Starched-up old sobersides,” Dree muttered, brushing snowy mittens across suddenly damp eyes. “Lord Frances is a better choice for Carrie after all,” she sniffed. “I’m glad she didn’t pick any toplofty earl who is too full of himself and his dignity to have a good time. Go play with the children indeed.” She couldn’t resist one last toss, which landed squarely in the middle of Blanford’s broad back. “And don’t forget to limp this time,” she shouted after him.
*
The next morning the earl sent a box of bonbons for Audrina, and she made her prettiest apology when he came to call with Franny that afternoon.
“Let’s forget the unfortunate episode, shall we?” Max offered. “We mustn’t be at odds, for it looks as if we’ll be seeing a great deal of each other.”
Carinne and Lord Podell were going through music at the pianoforte, with more glances into each other’s eyes than glances at the titles on the sheets. To give them some privacy while still protecting Carinne’s reputation, Dree had to lead the earl aside and keep him entertained. She tried to be her most mature and demure,
“He’s not worthy of her!”
“Why, because his pockets are to let? It’s not his fault, Miss Rowe, that his father gambled away his inheritance and left him with a mound of debts and a mortgaged estate. He’s done his best to hold on to Podell Hall for his descendants. And you shouldn’t fault a man for the cut of his coat.” Or the length of his hair. “Franny can’t participate in all the expensive pastimes of his cronies, so he indulges in his tailoring. He’s entitled to some pleasure, isn’t he?”
“I suppose I’ve judged him too harshly,” Audrina conceded. “But a man’s character doesn’t show at first; his peacock’s costume does.”
“I can swear to his character, Miss Rowe. Frances Podell is a good friend, brave and loyal. He’s not a gambler or a womanizer. He’s just a terrible dresser.”
“Carrie thinks he’s elegant.” Audrina shrugged. “At least he’s better than Prendergast.”
“Good grief, even a loveless marriage to Franny would be better than that. And I guarantee this isn’t merely a match of convenience. Just look at them. You’d have to be blind not to see they are well suited.”
Dree didn’t have to look. She knew what she’d see: February lovebirds smelling of April and May. And she couldn’t look over at the couple ice-dancing on clouds behind her, for she was too busy gathering a handful of the remains of last week’s snowfall. She launched her hurriedly rounded missile with deadly accuracy at his lordship’s high-crowned beaver hat. “It’s too lovely a day to be so stuffy.”
His lordship was not amused. He turned and dived after the hat—and his escaping hairpiece—while Dree was still giggling. Max slammed the hat back on before anyone could see what was inside it, instead of being on his head. He was sputtering with anger. Thistlewaite wasn’t there for him to strangle, so he took his rage out on Audrina. “You…you brat! How dare you? Go play with the other children.”
That hurt. Dree had been running her father’s household for years, and taking on responsibilities for the parish long before most girls put their skirts down. She knew the earl could never see her as an equal, no matter how pleasantly he acted toward her, since their worlds were so far apart. Yet she thought they might be friends. She’d only meant to bring him some fun, not remind him she was naught but a vicar’s ragtag brat.
The others were taking up the game, the men tossing snowballs while the ladies squealed. Lady Halbersham snuck up behind her husband, who was aiming at Franny, and dumped a handful of snow down his collar. Lord Halbersham turned with a roar and scooped his wife up, to deposit her facedown in the bank of cleared snow at the edge of the pond.
Lord Blanford stalked off.
“Starched-up old sobersides,” Dree muttered, brushing snowy mittens across suddenly damp eyes. “Lord Frances is a better choice for Carrie after all,” she sniffed. “I’m glad she didn’t pick any toplofty earl who is too full of himself and his dignity to have a good time. Go play with the children indeed.” She couldn’t resist one last toss, which landed squarely in the middle of Blanford’s broad back. “And don’t forget to limp this time,” she shouted after him.
*
The next morning the earl sent a box of bonbons for Audrina, and she made her prettiest apology when he came to call with Franny that afternoon.
“Let’s forget the unfortunate episode, shall we?” Max offered. “We mustn’t be at odds, for it looks as if we’ll be seeing a great deal of each other.”
Carinne and Lord Podell were going through music at the pianoforte, with more glances into each other’s eyes than glances at the titles on the sheets. To give them some privacy while still protecting Carinne’s reputation, Dree had to lead the earl aside and keep him entertained. She tried to be her most mature and demure,
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