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the elderly sages he seemed to favor.
“I am sure their works are remarkably edifying, but we have selected reading of another sort,” Claire repeated, bracing herself for his reaction, and Camille’s defense.
“Poetry, then. We have many volumes of poetry in my library.”
“We are reading novels, my lord.” Claire paused to bite into her toast and took her time swallowing. “And when we are tired of novels, we read articles from ladies’ magazines and the fashion pages.”
The room was so quiet that the sound of Claire’s next bite of toast was inordinately loud.
“I see,” said Wentworth at last. “There is no harm in light amusement, as a dessert to the more satisfying meal. Surely you do not solely subsist on such sugary bites?”
“We do, my lord, and seem to be managing quite well. In fact, we do not miss the taste of bland meat and potatoes.”
Camille made a sputtering sound, and Claire realized she could barely control her laughter. She smiled, but sobered immediately upon seeing Wentworth’s expression.
“And to what purpose are the two of you feasting on desserts only?”
“Why, when Lady Camille makes her long overdue entrance into society, she must be prepared to speak knowledgeably about many things, but I doubt if Chambers’s
Cyclopaedia
is among them. I also believe she will be well served if her garments reflect the fashion of the current century, and not something she might have discovered in a trunk in the attic.”
“So this is your plan, hatched conveniently upon my departure. No wonder my cousin was so vague about her intentions and her introduction.” Wentworth rose and with his heavy beard had the look of a vengeful deity. “My sister is not going to London for any reason, to be whispered about behind her back and ignored by those in her company. You do not understand how cruel society can be, how intolerant of anyone who is different, who deserves pity instead of condemnation.”
Claire stood, well prepared for his reluctance, but startled at his vehemence.
“You are wrong, Lord Wentworth! I understand it better than most. My past marriage has always been the source of some speculation, even by those who know me well, and I am very accustomed to hushed conversation as soon as I enter a room.”
“You agree with me?”
“I agree that gossips will always find something to say. But that has not prevented me from doing what I wish, and being invited to the best parties, and enjoying my subscription to Almack’s. Rumors and innuendo only find traction when they hit their mark and cause it pain.” Claire paused to catch her breath. “And why would you assume Camille would be an object of their pity? Why would a young lady of grace and intelligence, beauty and wit, be dismissed by anyone worth knowing in London?”
Wentworth looked down at his sister, who sat quietly between them at the battlefield of their breakfast table.
“I should think that should be fairly obvious, Lady Claire,” he said. “My sister is . . . not like other ladies.”
“Because she is blind? There, I’ve said it! And Lord Westerly lost his arm at Waterloo. And Mrs. Randall has a dreadful stutter. And Captain Pierce cannot hear a word anyone says. And I am not going to mention the dozens of society’s minions who are so stupid it is torture to engage them in conversation.” Camille raised her hand, perhaps to silence Claire’s outburst, but Claire caught it instead, and held fast. “Your sister has every right to take her rightful place in society, and I am determined to see her there.”
Wentworth grabbed his sister’s other hand. “It is not your right to be determined, Lady Claire, for what passes between us in this household has nothing to do with you. My sister and I have spent our lives together, endured great tragedy and pain, and we are not to be disturbed because a lady so wholly uninvolved in our affairs thinks something is wanting in our manners. We are happy as we
“I am sure their works are remarkably edifying, but we have selected reading of another sort,” Claire repeated, bracing herself for his reaction, and Camille’s defense.
“Poetry, then. We have many volumes of poetry in my library.”
“We are reading novels, my lord.” Claire paused to bite into her toast and took her time swallowing. “And when we are tired of novels, we read articles from ladies’ magazines and the fashion pages.”
The room was so quiet that the sound of Claire’s next bite of toast was inordinately loud.
“I see,” said Wentworth at last. “There is no harm in light amusement, as a dessert to the more satisfying meal. Surely you do not solely subsist on such sugary bites?”
“We do, my lord, and seem to be managing quite well. In fact, we do not miss the taste of bland meat and potatoes.”
Camille made a sputtering sound, and Claire realized she could barely control her laughter. She smiled, but sobered immediately upon seeing Wentworth’s expression.
“And to what purpose are the two of you feasting on desserts only?”
“Why, when Lady Camille makes her long overdue entrance into society, she must be prepared to speak knowledgeably about many things, but I doubt if Chambers’s
Cyclopaedia
is among them. I also believe she will be well served if her garments reflect the fashion of the current century, and not something she might have discovered in a trunk in the attic.”
“So this is your plan, hatched conveniently upon my departure. No wonder my cousin was so vague about her intentions and her introduction.” Wentworth rose and with his heavy beard had the look of a vengeful deity. “My sister is not going to London for any reason, to be whispered about behind her back and ignored by those in her company. You do not understand how cruel society can be, how intolerant of anyone who is different, who deserves pity instead of condemnation.”
Claire stood, well prepared for his reluctance, but startled at his vehemence.
“You are wrong, Lord Wentworth! I understand it better than most. My past marriage has always been the source of some speculation, even by those who know me well, and I am very accustomed to hushed conversation as soon as I enter a room.”
“You agree with me?”
“I agree that gossips will always find something to say. But that has not prevented me from doing what I wish, and being invited to the best parties, and enjoying my subscription to Almack’s. Rumors and innuendo only find traction when they hit their mark and cause it pain.” Claire paused to catch her breath. “And why would you assume Camille would be an object of their pity? Why would a young lady of grace and intelligence, beauty and wit, be dismissed by anyone worth knowing in London?”
Wentworth looked down at his sister, who sat quietly between them at the battlefield of their breakfast table.
“I should think that should be fairly obvious, Lady Claire,” he said. “My sister is . . . not like other ladies.”
“Because she is blind? There, I’ve said it! And Lord Westerly lost his arm at Waterloo. And Mrs. Randall has a dreadful stutter. And Captain Pierce cannot hear a word anyone says. And I am not going to mention the dozens of society’s minions who are so stupid it is torture to engage them in conversation.” Camille raised her hand, perhaps to silence Claire’s outburst, but Claire caught it instead, and held fast. “Your sister has every right to take her rightful place in society, and I am determined to see her there.”
Wentworth grabbed his sister’s other hand. “It is not your right to be determined, Lady Claire, for what passes between us in this household has nothing to do with you. My sister and I have spent our lives together, endured great tragedy and pain, and we are not to be disturbed because a lady so wholly uninvolved in our affairs thinks something is wanting in our manners. We are happy as we
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