Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
‘Clara,’ Papa says gently. ‘You look beautiful, my darling.’
I cough over my laugh to disguise it. ‘Striking,’ I add. Her nostrils flare, she picks up her dress, and she stomps down the stairs, muttering something. I cannot be sure what, something unladylike I expect.
Father smiles, bright and happy. ‘She’s a live one, isn’t she?’ He has no idea. Mother flies back across the hallway, and we both step back to avoid being taken off our feet. ‘Your mother is very keen to become a patron of Almack’s, you know.’ Papa collects his cane and hat from the stand near the door.
‘Oh, I know,’ I reply, laughing.
‘So as to have the pick of the crop lined up for Clara to choose from when her time comes to be launched into society.’
‘Oh, yes, because I am certain it is all about Clara’s prospects and not Mother’s desire to be one of the most popular ladies of the ton.’
‘She is already that, my boy. God bless her soul, Florence Melrose has certainly fallen seamlessly into high society.’
And, it must be said, she is the source of the best gossip, ladies hoping to be treated to a sneak peek of the next day’s news. Mama always obliges, throws them scraps, entices their interest, all to ensure they ensure their husbands invest in the next day’s edition of The London Times, which is a ploy we cannot be opposing of, especially in the wake of the recently levied tax on newspapers that has come to light. It’s absurd. At one time, not too many weeks ago, when Lymington was an ally, not an enemy, we were hopeful that he, since he was rather friendly with the Prince Regent, might have a quiet word and deter him from passing the new tax, for it would certainly affect sales, and the family has worked so hard to boost them. Unfortunately, with Lymington gone, although where is yet to be determined, as we have seen neither hide nor hair of him and heard nothing regarding his whereabouts, so has our only opportunity to stop the tax being enforced. Four pence in every seven!
‘But she still bakes,’ Papa goes on, resting his hat atop his head and polishing the gold topper of his cane with his hanky. ‘Did you know that, son?’
‘Yes, I knew that,’ I say, smiling as he opens the door for me. ‘She’s been at it all night, banging her way around the kitchens.’
Papa chuckles. ‘Let us do your mother proud and show Belmore Square how we Melroses throw a party.’
I step out and breathe in, feeling the eyes of many women fall upon me.
‘You get your good looks from me, you know that, don’t you, Frank?’
I turn a smile onto my father, and it drops the moment I find raised eyebrows. I am certain I am not going to appreciate what comes out of his mouth next. ‘Maybe it is time to devote those looks to one woman and one woman alone. Be a bit more responsible.’
One woman? Good God. Who? There is not one lady in London – not one! – who has succeeded in keeping my interest for longer than one encounter. Perhaps two at a push. A lifetime? I laugh to myself.
Never.
Chapter 2
Eliza and the Duke are entwined in quite the passionate kiss, much to the shock of the clergyman, who is standing looking increasingly gormless with The Book of Prayer resting across his palms. I do not claim to know the Duke of Chester particularly well, although, arguably, better than I did a few weeks ago when he came to me with quite the shocking news of betrayal and scandal that cleared his name, but I do know, as do most of Belmore Square and beyond, that when it comes to my sister, he has no boundaries. He will kiss her, touch her, and do as he so pleases with her, whenever he so pleases, and wherever he may be. Frankly, it makes me feel quite uncomfortable, but I’m not about to argue with a rather passionate man.
I look across to Father and see him rolling his eyes, as Mama starts to clap the happy couple and the rest of the congregation, just family, joins her. ‘Disgusting,’ Clara groans from beside me. ‘God, Frank, why does he feel the need to practically eat our sister alive?’
‘It’s their wedding day.’
‘You say it as if it does not happen at every opportunity he has, brother.’ Clara claps slowly, bored to tears. ‘Is it finished? I want to go home.’
‘You will stay put,’ I say firmly, earning myself a snort of disgust. I look down at her with a cautionary eye. I am not stupid. As I have said, the stable boy may be terrified of me, but Clara is not. She is quite the devious little thing. She is also beautiful and intelligent, not to mention stubborn. She is not in love with the stable boy. She is in love with the excitement of breaking rules, and there are certainly many to break since we arrived in London. Mama and Papa would burst a blood vessel if they were to discover her antics. It was quite a shock that the Duke of Chester had somehow won their eldest daughter’s affections. And he’s a duke! Disgraced, granted, but still a duke. The stable boy? Lord above, our parents have worked so hard to earn respect for the Melrose name, and now we are related to the Winters? We cannot risk Clara ruining that with an immature calf love. And we cannot have me ruining it with my old sexual escapades. So perhaps Father is right. I need to be responsible. Responsible sounds utterly boring. ‘You are sixteen.’ I remind her, rolling my shoulders, an odd shudder plunging down my spine.