Read Online Improper Ladies by AMANDA MCCABE - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: AMANDA MCCABE
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“I doubt it, dearest. Though I am sure we will meet many nice young men.”
“Nice!” Phoebe wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That makes them sound like spaniels.”
“There is nothing wrong with being nice,” Caroline chided. “It is far better than being . . . fatally attractive.”
Phoebe looked unconvinced. But she just shrugged and went back to peering out the window. “Look, there are people out walking along the shore! Can we go down there, Caro?”
Caroline shook her head. “Not today. It grows late. Perhaps we can go for a stroll tomorrow, or even bathing. Would you like that?”
“Above all things!” Phoebe spun away from the window to give Caroline an impulsive hug. “Are you quite all right, Caro? You look so pale.”
“I am just tired, dearest. The journey was such a long one.”
“Indeed it was! You should not sit in one place for so long when you are older. You stay here, and I will go see how Mary and the new cook are getting along for supper. Shall I bring you some tea, too?”
Caroline laughed at that “older” comment. “Yes, please. A cup of good, strong tea sounds just what I need to warm my ancient bones.”
After Phoebe rushed out of the room in a flurry of bright pink skirts, Caroline settled herself in a chair by the window. She looked out at the stretch of sandy shore in the not-too-far distance, watching the few people who walked there soaking up the last of the warm afternoon before they went off to their evening’s festivities.
Festivities she and Phoebe would soon have to find a way to gain entrance to.
Tomorrow she would look about the town, see who was in residence. Surely there would be someone here who would remember her family, the Lanes; they had summered here so often when she was a child. Someone who would not remember the mild scandal of her elopement with Lawrence Aldritch. Someone who would welcome them. They only had to pay for their tickets to go to the assembly rooms, of course, but that would do them no good without someone to introduce them.
She looked away from the window, and her gaze fell on Phoebe’s bonnet, abandoned on a settee. Its pink and gold and green feathers fluttered in the breeze from the open window.
Caroline sighed. Someone would have to give Phoebe some fashion advice, as well.
There was a clatter of carriage wheels in the street below, the last street before the sandy shore sloped down into the sea. They stopped in front of the house next door.
Caroline peered back out, curious to see who had taken the large, white stone structure.
A footman opened the carriage door, and a loud, querulous voice floated out, “... didn’t say we would be in such a pokey little place! I vow my old governess must live in a larger house. I told you we should have gone to Brighton!”
A woman’s sweet, barely audible voice answered, “Your father and I stayed in this exact same house. It is much larger than it appears, I promise, and it is right on the water....”
One booted foot just emerged from the carriage when Phoebe reappeared, carrying a large tea tray. Caroline turned from the window, closing the casement firmly behind her. She didn’t want Phoebe to know yet that their neighbors, far from being “fatally attractive” royalty, were quarrelsome snobs who thought their great mansion too small.
The next day was bright and warm, perfect for strolling along the promenade that ran alongside the shore. Perfect for seeing and being seen.
Caroline just wished that Phoebe chose to be seen in something other than a purple-and-yellow striped muslin walking dress and purple spencer.
More than one passing matron looked at Phoebe with raised brows, then, more often than not, would turn their gaze to Caroline in a most accusing manner. Almost as if they were blaming her for the young woman’s attire!
Caroline just smiled, sighed inwardly, and fought the urge to dare one of those old hens to try to change Phoebe’s mind. She had
“Nice!” Phoebe wrinkled her nose in disgust. “That makes them sound like spaniels.”
“There is nothing wrong with being nice,” Caroline chided. “It is far better than being . . . fatally attractive.”
Phoebe looked unconvinced. But she just shrugged and went back to peering out the window. “Look, there are people out walking along the shore! Can we go down there, Caro?”
Caroline shook her head. “Not today. It grows late. Perhaps we can go for a stroll tomorrow, or even bathing. Would you like that?”
“Above all things!” Phoebe spun away from the window to give Caroline an impulsive hug. “Are you quite all right, Caro? You look so pale.”
“I am just tired, dearest. The journey was such a long one.”
“Indeed it was! You should not sit in one place for so long when you are older. You stay here, and I will go see how Mary and the new cook are getting along for supper. Shall I bring you some tea, too?”
Caroline laughed at that “older” comment. “Yes, please. A cup of good, strong tea sounds just what I need to warm my ancient bones.”
After Phoebe rushed out of the room in a flurry of bright pink skirts, Caroline settled herself in a chair by the window. She looked out at the stretch of sandy shore in the not-too-far distance, watching the few people who walked there soaking up the last of the warm afternoon before they went off to their evening’s festivities.
Festivities she and Phoebe would soon have to find a way to gain entrance to.
Tomorrow she would look about the town, see who was in residence. Surely there would be someone here who would remember her family, the Lanes; they had summered here so often when she was a child. Someone who would not remember the mild scandal of her elopement with Lawrence Aldritch. Someone who would welcome them. They only had to pay for their tickets to go to the assembly rooms, of course, but that would do them no good without someone to introduce them.
She looked away from the window, and her gaze fell on Phoebe’s bonnet, abandoned on a settee. Its pink and gold and green feathers fluttered in the breeze from the open window.
Caroline sighed. Someone would have to give Phoebe some fashion advice, as well.
There was a clatter of carriage wheels in the street below, the last street before the sandy shore sloped down into the sea. They stopped in front of the house next door.
Caroline peered back out, curious to see who had taken the large, white stone structure.
A footman opened the carriage door, and a loud, querulous voice floated out, “... didn’t say we would be in such a pokey little place! I vow my old governess must live in a larger house. I told you we should have gone to Brighton!”
A woman’s sweet, barely audible voice answered, “Your father and I stayed in this exact same house. It is much larger than it appears, I promise, and it is right on the water....”
One booted foot just emerged from the carriage when Phoebe reappeared, carrying a large tea tray. Caroline turned from the window, closing the casement firmly behind her. She didn’t want Phoebe to know yet that their neighbors, far from being “fatally attractive” royalty, were quarrelsome snobs who thought their great mansion too small.
The next day was bright and warm, perfect for strolling along the promenade that ran alongside the shore. Perfect for seeing and being seen.
Caroline just wished that Phoebe chose to be seen in something other than a purple-and-yellow striped muslin walking dress and purple spencer.
More than one passing matron looked at Phoebe with raised brows, then, more often than not, would turn their gaze to Caroline in a most accusing manner. Almost as if they were blaming her for the young woman’s attire!
Caroline just smiled, sighed inwardly, and fought the urge to dare one of those old hens to try to change Phoebe’s mind. She had
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