Once Upon a Marquess (The Worth Saga 1)

“Not the way you speak it,” Theresa muttered.

“So if Evelyn—”

“She’s Lady Evil at the moment.”

A more appropriate name for the cat could not have been given. Judith accepted the interruption without even blinking.

“As I was saying. Since I cannot communicate with Lady Evil, I’ll leave it to you to do so when she graces us with her presence.”

Theresa snorted. “This is why the cats never listen to you.”

This was why doing the simplest thing in the Worth household took nine hours and a committee. Judith sighed. “Please hold your tongue, Theresa.”

“I told you, it’s literally impossible to hold one’s tongue.”

Judith ignored this. “I am going to have to leave town extremely early tomorrow morning on business,” she continued. “I shall be gone until very late in the evening. Theresa, Benedict, you’ll have to look after yourselves.”

Her two siblings exchanged glances. Then Theresa burst into a delighted smile that made the hair on the back of Judith’s neck stand up.

“Lovely,” Theresa said. “Why all the fuss and ceremony? Don’t worry about us. We’ll see you when you return.”

Judith persisted. “If there is an emergency, if you need someone, you will go find Daisy, who has kindly volunteered to help. She’ll be at the flower shop until two in the afternoon, and then in her flat across the way. Understood?”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“A badly made sandwich is not an emergency. A desire to see the circus is not an emergency. It’s not an emergency unless you are in peril of your life.”

“Or a cat’s life,” Theresa put in.

Ducks alive. There was a loophole to end all loopholes.

“Only Squid, Parson, and Caramel,” Judith said. “No other cats.”

Theresa’s eyes rounded in horror. “Not Lady Evil?”

“Definitely not Lady Evil. I’d drown her myself.”

“Oh.” Theresa scrunched up her nose. “You’re teasing me. Lady Evil is your favorite.”

Technically, she was. Judith refused to admit it, not when she could tweak her sister instead.

“You’re mean.” Theresa frowned at her.

“Like a queen,” Judith agreed.

“Eating beans,” Theresa finished.

“Where are you going?” Benedict asked.

No point dissembling there. “I am going to see our uncle William.”

Theresa sat up. “Will you see Camilla?”

Benedict frowned. “For what purpose?”

Judith didn’t look at Daisy. She had never told Daisy of her past before they met. If Daisy knew that her uncle was a viscount, that her father had been an earl, she’d think that Judith had been making fun of her with their game.

“I’m simply seeking out answers to some questions. That’s all.”

“Are you going to bring Camilla back?” Theresa asked.

“She’s always welcome, but—”

“Where will she sleep? In our room? There isn’t room for three in that bed, not if we want Lady Evil and Squid and Parson and Caramel to still be able to stretch out.”

“You are getting ahead of yourself, Tee.”

“But I don’t want to put the cats out of the room.”

“It’s a social call,” Judith said a little more loudly. “Nothing more. Nothing less. And your sister is more important than a bunch of cats.”

Theresa inhaled in horror. “What!?”

“It’s a social call. On a relative.” Who might be embezzling the trusts I so painstakingly earned for you, Judith did not say aloud. “Please stop extrapolating from a single visit to the end of the world.”

“But if the world is coming to an end, I would very much like to make sure that the cats are taken care of. The cats are my responsibility. You always say so. I’m just trying to be responsible. Is that so very wrong?”

There was nothing to do but completely ignore this. Judith gestured. “Daisy will look in on you once she’s finished at the shop. Mind her when she talks to you. Do not use the kitchen stove yourself. Do not try to burn the house down. Do not get into a knife fight—”

“I have never wanted to fight with knives.” Theresa tossed her head scornfully.

Judith, of course, noticed that her sister did not disclaim interest in any of the other items on the list.

“And whatever you do, do not adopt any more cats,” Judith finished. “Four is enough cats. Understand?”

Two had been enough cats. One had been enough cat.

“But what if—”

“There are no buts,” Judith said, “just as there are no more cats. Or fires. Or any of the other things on the list. The only thing I want to hear right now is ‘Yes, Judith.’ If you can’t say that, hold your tongue.”

“Yes, Judith.” Theresa rolled her eyes. “But I still hate that expression. ‘Hold your tongue.’ Have you ever tried to hold your tongue? I have.” She stuck out her tongue. “Look.” She tried to grip it with her fingers. “It’th too thlippewy. Like a fifth.” She frowned. “A fifsth.” She spat out her own fingers. “Like a fish, even. The tongue is an unholdable object. Why does anyone still say that?”

Judith narrowed her eyes. “That was not a simple ‘Yes, Judith.’”

“Wait. You didn’t make Benedict say ‘Yes, Judith.’ So he’s allowed to get in a knife fight? It’s not fair. If he gets to cut people, I want to, too!”

Judith sighed. “Benedict?”

“Yes, Judith,” Benedict said. He had been watching her with a somber expression, without any of his usual liveliness in his eyes. His reply was almost perfunctory. “I’ll do none of those things.”

When it came to Benedict, Judith just hoped he would leave his room.

“Lovely.” Judith stood. “Daisy is going to make sure that you all have something to eat in the evening. I’ll be gone before you wake. Please, for me, try to behave a little. Go for a walk. A sedate walk. Along the river will be nice this time of year, don’t you think?”

Benedict shrugged.

“Lovely,” Judith repeated. “Then… Daisy, thank you for stopping by. I’ll walk you to the door?”

It was an excuse to get her friend alone, and a none-too-transparent one.

“Judith,” Daisy said, turning to her once they were out of eavesdropping distance, “are you in difficulties?”

Judith sighed. “Nothing I can’t manage.”

“Because if you’re going away for a day, I can’t help remember that there was a man who visited. He was too well-dressed, too…too…” She paused. “He really could have been a marquess. Not that I would know anything about them.”

“No,” Judith said. “All your experience is with dukes, as I recall.”

Daisy sighed. “Dukes and scoundrels. All I am trying to say is that if you…that is, if he… If this is not precisely a matter of business, one that will take you to see this supposed long-lost uncle who has not extended a hand to help out in all the years I’ve known you—if it’s something else, if you’ve decided to, um…”

“Um?”

“Sell your virtue,” Daisy said after a mortified pause.

They rarely said a word to each other about their problems, but Judith knew that she worried about Daisy and how many turnips she purchased because she’d had some bad months in the beginning when she’d counted carrots, too. If Daisy was worried about Judith’s virtue, it was probably because she’d had her own tussel with reality on that score. Judith wanted to protect Daisy from the worst that had happened to her; clearly, Daisy felt the same way. She could have hugged her.

There was a reason they so rarely talked of reality. Reality had far too much ugliness in it. In many ways, it would have been easier for Judith if she’d simply lost her virtue. That, one needn’t speak of. Losing one’s father, one’s brother, was another level of impropriety entirely. If Daisy thought that street-walking was beyond words, Judith didn’t wan

t to know what she might think of her father selling his loyalty.

“I am calling on my uncle,” Judith said. “And you’re right, he has done an excellent job of ignoring our branch of the family these last years. I don’t imagine that it will be a particularly pleasant call. Any time money is involved, it rarely is.”