The Courtship Caper (Scandalous Miss Brightwells 6)

“I didn’t notice you come in.” Fanny smiled, while she tried to think back over whether she and her sister had spoken on matters unsuitable for Miss Stone’s ears: like their relief that Lady Indigo would be gone in the morning.

“I came back a few minutes ago because Lady Indigo wanted her stocking darned before tomorrow’s journey, and I needed the light.”

“I wasn’t calling you to account,” Fanny said, amused. And relieved. She peered more closely at the young woman, suddenly concerned by the sheen she saw in her eyes. “You look upset, my dear.” She hadn’t taken much account of Lady Indigo’s companion. The girl had hardly spoken two words in all the time she’d been under their roof, other than to answer Lady Indigo when required.

“I’m perfectly—”

“It’s the disappointment, isn’t it?” Antoinette interjected after taking a sip and leveling a compassionate look at Venetia. “No need to blush so fiercely. I could tell.” Sighing, she looked at Fanny. “I said that we wouldn’t let the lack of a ball gown prevent Venetia from attending tomorrow’s Christmas Ball, but Lady Indigo was having none of it.”

“Very disappointing,” Fanny agreed. “And now I see you’ve finished your brandy in quick time which, I suppose, is not to be wondered at since you have such an early start.”

The two sisters watched Venetia put down her glass then rise after gathering up her sewing receptacle.

“Promise me you’ll not lose too much sleep over all this,” Fanny said kindly, feeling a greater surge of sympathy when she saw the devastation in Venetia’s eyes. “I know this seems like a lost opportunity never to be repeated, but I’m sure that in a few days’ time it will have paled into insignificance.”

***

It was hardly to be wondered at that Venetia barely slept.

Feeling ill with fatigue the next morning after breakfast, she sat with her book of poetry, tucked away behind a couple of large plinths topped with Roman busts.

Here, she’d sought cover from Lady Indigo’s ill temper after her employer had overslept. Of course, she’d blamed it on Venetia.

Though, really, it was the maid who was supposed to have rapped on their door who hadn’t done her job.

What was strange was that Lady Indigo was generally such an early riser. Yet, she’d woken up an hour later than she generally did, saying she’d felt woolly-headed. She’d even suggested Venetia had laced her evening milk with some sleeping draft or herb to minimize her snoring.

It would have been nice if such a potion existed to mitigate the nocturnal noises that so often kept Venetia awake when they shared close accommodation. She would have to make it a point of extending her investigations in this area, she thought.

Especially considering she had many years of Lady Indigo’s snoring from the next room to disturb her rest.

She covered her mouth to muffle the sound of yet another uncontrollable sob for she’d just heard several guests enter.

Drawing her knees up to her chin, she tried to focus on the words of the book through her teary vision.

Sebastian thought he had discharged his obligations regarding full disclosure by admitting to the fact that he’d formed a relationship with Miss Reeves four months earlier. What he hadn’t told her was that Miss Reeves now claimed he was the father of her child.

A claim he disputed.

A claim which could only be disputed if he and Miss Reeves had never…

Dropping the book in despair, she pushed the heel of both her palms into her eyes.

But if he and Miss Reeves had taken their relationship to the same level of intimacy that he and Venetia had, and if Miss Reeves was with child...then how could Sebastian and Venetia, in good conscience, be married?

Venetia was not with child. But Miss Reeves was?

Which therefore meant Sebastian was honor-bound to wed Miss Reeves.

It didn’t matter how much he truly did love Venetia—and she knew he did—he would have no choice but to marry Miss Reeves.

Her eyes felt puffy from crying as she stared out of the window and onto the lawn, now lightly dusted with snow.

Tonight, the entertaining rooms would be perfumed by beeswax candles and bodies of various scents pressed together as nearly one hundred guests enjoyed the Christmas festivities primarily on Lord and Lady Quamby’s ballroom floor.

She heard Lady Fenton cry, “It looks marvelous!” as a couple of maids struggled through the doors bearing an enormous vase of hothouse blooms, adding, “You have heard Lady Indigo slept in! First time ever, she says! And now it’s too late to make the journey in a day so she’s decided to remain another night.”

“But she’ll keep to her room since she hates large gatherings,” she heard Lady Quamby reply.