Blackmoore(73)

Mama’s voice, but the door closed again with only the sound of footsteps. Then a creaking of the settee.

“Oh, it feels good to sit.” I stiffened. It was Mrs. Delafield.

“Indeed it does. My feet are not so used to dancing as they once were.”

This voice was vaguely familiar. I peeked around the edge of the drapes.

Henry’s aunt Agnes sat next to his mother on the sofa. I eased further into the shadows, grateful for the dim lighting. As long as I did not make a sound, they would never guess I was here. Coming out from behind the drapes now would only make me look foolish. I would wait until they left before going back to the ballroom.

“I am glad we have this chance to talk privately,” the aunt said, “for I feel a bit concerned about you, sister, since my brother died.”

“Oh? Concerned? About what?” Mrs. Delafield’s voice was guarded,

defensive.

“A subject of the gravest importance, I am afraid.”

I should not be listening to this. But I could not leave without being

seen. I cursed my bad luck and hope that their conversation would not be too personal nor too long.

“I am concerned that you are not doing your duty to protect the Delafield family name from scandal.”

My eyes opened wide. I wondered that she would dare to say such a thing.

And by the affronted, frosty tone of Mrs. Delafield’s voice, I gathered she agreed with me. “What do you mean?”

“I saw the Worthingtons here. I cannot believe you would invite them,

after the scandal at Brighton—”

“Eleanor is not here, you will notice. And the scandal has not yet been

confirmed. It has not even reached this part of the country yet. Excluding them would create more gossip locally. You know how I detest gossip. Putting up with their company is a small price to pay to keep our name unconnected with theirs.”

“Yes, but still! The Delafield name, sister!”

Mrs. Delafield’s voice hardened. “I am very well aware of the Delafield

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family name and what it is worth. I was aware of it when I married your

brother, and I am even more aware of it now. I have done nothing to disgrace it. In fact, with George’s match, I believe I have helped to elevate it.”

“Yes, George’s match was well done, but there is still no title. We need a title in the family.”

I rolled my eyes. This all went back to their distant relative receiving a title from the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. Now that they had a count in their family lineage, they were puffed up in their own opinion of their family and what they thought was their due.

“I know we need a title in the family, and I have planned accordingly.

The St. Claires have a title in their family. And Henry’s match with Miss St.

Claire is secure.”

“But that title will mean nothing if Henry falls for one of those

Worthington girls instead!”

My face burned hot.

“There is nothing to worry about on that score,” Mrs. Delafield said, her voice dismissive and final.

“Are you certain of that? Because from what Sylvia told me . . .”

“I am certain.” A pause, and then she asked, with a note of curiosity but no worry, “But what did Sylvia tell you?”

“She told me that she believes Henry and her friend . . . the one with the eyebrows . . .”

“Kitty.”

“Yes, Kitty. She has grown beautiful, hasn’t she? Despite the eyebrows?”

“Oh, yes, quite. Very striking. But do go on. What did Sylvia say?”

“She believes they may be forming an attachment.”

To have Sylvia and her aunt and mother talking about Henry and me!

I thought of what Sylvia had seen in the clearing, and burned inside with embarrassment.

Mrs. Delafield spoke briskly. “You are worrying for nothing. If they have formed an attachment, I will sever it. Immediately. In fact, if there is even a hint that Kitty has set her sights on Henry, I will separate all three of them.

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I will send Henry to Blackmoore and Sylvia to live with you until I have convinced the girl that she will rue the day she ever thought of loving Henry.

I have thought of all of this. I will tear them apart without hesitation, and without compunction.”

“Why allow her to associate with them at all? Why not separate them

now?”

“Because it will cause gossip! Conjecture! And that one little girl is not worth the risk. Besides, I do not mind Kitty for Sylvia’s sake. Without her friendship, Sylvia would grow even more slothful than she is naturally, and it would be difficult to arrange a good marriage for her. No, it is fine for her to be friends with them at this point . . . as long as it goes no further.”

“Do you think you can really control such a thing?” Doubt rang in the

older woman’s voice.

“Of course I can.” Derision rang in her voice. “Besides, I have something Henry wants very much—something he can have only if he does what I want

in this matter.”

“What is that?”

“Blackmoore.”

My heart fell. A long pause. “Have you done it legally?”