How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1) - Page 25

Not to mention that the London chapter of the Ladies’ Society of Antiquaries was meeting for tea. She received their newsletter, and their presence here was as thrilling to her as the fact that Mr. Bullock of the Egyptian Hall Museum, also of London, would attend the festival.

Persephone had been keen on joining the Society for years now, but she was so seldom in London. She had corresponded with their president, Lady Kenning, but spots opened up so rarely. She’d been assured that she was at the top of the waiting list. She’d take this opportunity to finally meet them in person, to share tea and conversation where she might not be mocked for knowing the exact composition of ancient embalming fluid. She’d pinned the paper flower she’d made from one of their pamphlets to the left of her neckline, as instructed. They’d all know each other as friends that way.

Village activity bubbled around her, soothing and invigorating. The clop of hooves and the rumble of cartwheels was a cheerful cacophony. Blue and white striped streamers and pennants criss-crossed from rooftop to rooftop, jolly against the grey skies above. There was already an obvious increase of visitors. It boded well. The morning crowd was mostly village folk going about their business, fussing over window displays in anticipation of the visitors. Afternoons were for ladies strolling in their finest walking dresses, pausing to admire books, bonnets, and an enormous replica of the Sphinx made out of bread. The baker had also carved a Roman temple out of sugar and it stood on a dais covered in rose petals. Aside from the idiosyncratic elephant carved from a wedge of cheese, it was stunning.

Persephone crossed to the teashop which was positively frothing with flowers. Violets and roses, lilies, snapdragons and foxgloves nodded at the passersby from huge urns painted with silhouettes of Aphrodite. The perfume of hot tea and chocolate overwhelmed the scents of dust and horses and smoke from the blacksmith’s forge down the way. She might have been in some distant temple, gathering flowers for an offering.

Three of the Society’s members came around the corner, wearing their paper flowers. Nerves tickled the back of Persephone’s throat. But here were colleagues of a sort, friends she simply had not met yet.

“Lady Dorcas?” Persephone recognized her ringlets and square jaw from a drawing in the last newsletter. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

With her were two ladies Persephone did not recognize and Lady Louisa.

“Have we been introduced?” Lady Dorcas asked. “Oh, but I see you wear our flower.”

“Lady Dorcas, this is Lady Persephone Blackwell,” Lady Louisa jumped in.

Lady Dorcas’s smile dimmed. “I see.”

Persephone kept her smile in place, but her stomach wobbled, as it did when something large rustled in the bushes late at night. “Lady Louisa, I had no idea you were interested in history.”

“I’ve just joined,” she said, her expression darkly gleeful. “Last week, actually. It was ever so easy.”

“Well, my dear, we always accept the best,” one of the other ladies said.

Persephone blinked. She hadn’t been informed that a spot had opened up. “Is Lady Kenning not with you?”

“Not for days yet,” came the reply. “She enjoys historical exhibitions, of course, but she is less enamored of country pursuits. And country manners.” Lady Dorcas tilted her head. “May I be frank?” She didn’t give Persephone any time to reply. Instead, she plucked the paper flower from Persephone’s collar. “We have standards to keep at the Society. It is difficult enough garnering any respect as it is. We simply can’t welcome ladies who…court scandal.” She tossed the flower into the street.

A hundred retorts crowded to the tip of Persephone’s tongue, but she couldn’t seem to say any of them. She’d expected differently from the Ladies Society of Antiquaries. She’d been a fool.

“Lady Dorcas,” Priya interrupted from behind her. Persephone turned her head and was greeted with that sharp little smile she knew all too well spelled trouble. The last time she had seen it glittering in such a way, Priya had knocked a wasp’s nest down onto the head of a boy poking a cat with a stick. Then she’d taken the cat home. Galahad lived with her to this day and had become the fattest, most spoiled cat this side of Egypt.

“Priya,” Persephone said, quietly. There was no use in this particular awkward conversation. Even having a duke for a godfather couldn’t entirely erase one’s past. She’d been naïve to think otherwise.

“Lady Priya,” Lady Dorcas curtsied briefly.

Priya did not curtsy back, only raised her eyebrow. “Are you still having an affair with your footman? The blond one?”

There was a collective gasp.

“He is rather handsome, I’ll allow. But so young.” Priya’s gaze raked the others while Persephone fought a small smile. Priya spent so much time alone in her greenhouse that people forgot how vicious she could be. That she had fifteen thousand a year helped them forget as well. Persephone’s own inheritance consisted of one old house and one slightly eccentric old lady who dressed as though she were fruit.

It was fortunate that Priya had a disregard for other people’s opinions which bordered on clinical. “I’m so sorry, I thought we were discussing propriety and respectability. And scandal, of course.” She pinned one of the ladies with a pointed stare. “I am sorry to hear you lost your father’s best horse on a wager.”

“I…”

“Quite.” She turned her shoulder. “Persephone, shall we? The duke has asked us to join him for tea. You know how he dotes on you.”

The duke had requested no such thing, but Persephone nodded. “Of course.”

“Good afternoon,” Priya tossed back casually as they strode away.

“Pri, you needn’t make enemies on my behalf.”

“Bah, what can that fusspot do to me? Anyway, I wouldn’t have to defend you, if you’d defend yourself.”

“What’s the use?”

“They can’t be allowed to win, Percy. Not when they flout conventions on a daily basis themselves. They are no better than you. And I won’t have them thinking they are.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I was rather public with my lack of repentance.”

“I remember,” Priya grinned. “It was glorious.”

“And effective.” She sighed. “A little too effective, I suppose. But never mind,” she added in bracing tones. It wasn’t her scandal which had truly ostracized her; it was getting caught and then not wilting into regretful obscurity. There’d been no public weeping, because she wasn’t sorry. “Self-pity is not productive, and I’d make the same decision now as I did then.”

“Never mind that Ladies Society,” Priya said. “You have us. The Cinderella Society.” Her expression changed, like light hitting the blade of a sword. “It has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say?”

Tags: Alyxandra Harvey A Cinderella Society Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024