Heiress in Red Silk, Hunter, Madeline [good beach reads TXT] 📗

so he could consult with you about these girls whenever he wanted? Truly, Sister, it is your duty to move there.”

Kevin roused himself at the direction this was taking. Nicholas would have a fit. “I think that he would rather discuss such things with both of you,” Kevin said. “You each bring special insights into society and the families in question. Better if he called on you both here.”

“I agree,” Dolores said. “It is unfair to expect him to seek us out separately, as if he had nothing else to do.”

Aunt Agnes’s mouth pursed. She did not look on Kevin kindly. “Is there any special reason for your visit, dear boy? You too have much to keep you busy, what with your trade and such.”

Your trade. Agnes and Dolores, indeed most of the family, made it a point to refer to the enterprise that way. It was their idea of a subtle insult.

“Although I thought it past time to make a social call, as long as I am here there is something I want to talk about. I am curious why I am the only member of the family who has not received an invitation to your dinner party. I would think it was my trade, as you put it, but since the guest of honor is my partner in trade, it can’t be that.”

Agnes resettled her thick body on the divan. Her expression shifted as well, from chagrin to petulance. “I did not think you would want to come, Kevin. I assumed that while she might be your partner, she was also your enemy. After all, this woman has half that invention now, doesn’t she? You must resent her. Hate her. I didn’t want to have a scene at my dinner.”

“I would never make a scene.”

Agnes laughed. Dolores joined in.

“Oh, that is too amusing,” Dolores said. “At best, you would sit there brooding silently, ruining everyone’s enjoyment. At worst, you would use that cutting wit of yours to create unbearable awkwardness. We would all be rushing to cover it up with chatter, lest it get worse.”

They all but said he was too rude for decent company. How insulting. “I would never do that. If you doubt it, let me inform you that Miss Jameson and I are good friends, not enemies. I have spent quite a lot of time with her since she came up to Town.”

“Good friends?” Agnes trilled the words incredulously. “Dear boy, you do not have good friends, at least ones that any of us know about. You are too . . . you for good friends.”

“That is not true.”

“Indeed? Who is your good friend among the gentlemen I know?”

Just like her to demand he name one. “Stratton.”

They both veered back in shock. “Stratton? The Duke of Stratton?” Dolores sent a sidelong glance at her sister. “I find that hard to believe.”

“He and I are very good friends.” He spoke with Stratton on occasion, but he was seriously stretching the truth. However, the man was so formidable, and so quelling a presence, that he did not worry about being found out. Bold though his aunts might be, neither one of them would dare to quiz Stratton on his friendships.

“Well.” Dolores looked a bit cowed.

“Indeed,” Agnes murmured.

“He has a garden party every Season,” Dolores said. “Do you have any influence there? I should like to be invited if you can manage that. He so rarely entertains.”

He was getting in deep now. “I will see what can be done, but I can promise nothing, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Me too,” Agnes said petulantly.

Kevin just looked at her. Barring two possible exceptions, none of the family was stupid, least of all this relative. Agnes immediately saw the problem.

“And of course I will send around an invitation to the dinner,” she said. “I only sought to spare you. I had no idea you might be disappointed.”

“Thank you.” He stood to take his leave.

“You will remember about the garden party?” Agnes said.

“Of course.”

Chapter Eight

Rosamund stood. Her new maid, Jennifer, held the dinner dress so she could step in. The raw silk slid up her body, and Jenny settled it on her shoulders. Rosamund remained motionless while the maid fastened the dress in back.

She had never been dressed before. She wondered if she was even doing it right. Who would have thought that in addition to those tutors she had met the other day, she would need one in order to learn the proper way to have servants.

Jenny was new, as were the housekeeper, cook, footman, and chambermaid. All had started since she returned from seeing Lily, but she had interviewed them before she departed. Minerva had a friend who placed servants in homes, and nice Mrs. Drable had sent her excellent candidates. In one afternoon she had acquired the people needed in this big house.

That made her feel both important and wasteful. She could do all of it herself, especially getting dressed. She had to admit that Jenny had an artful hand with dressing hair, though, and knew how to fold or hang the garments coming from the modiste just so.

She ran her hand down the dinner dress. Madame Tissot had made sure it was finished, after Minerva informed her an event was imminent. “I want you to look your best as you enter the lion’s den,” she had explained. “It may delay the attack for ten minutes or so.” Minerva did not like most of Chase’s relatives, that was obvious.

How bad could it be? She had survived Kevin’s father, hadn’t she? And that horrible wife of Walter Radnor. She doubted anyone tonight would be ruder than they had been. She had a plan too. She intended to stay close to Minerva, using her as a shield, and say nothing at all unless spoken to directly. If she did have to speak, she would do so very carefully, and hope to avoid those slips in grammar that plagued her.

“There now.” Jenny stepped around and gave Rosamund an inspection with her pale blue