‘That, too. But now we’re here, can’t you just look on it as a holiday? It must be at least ten years since we last visited Aunt Sophoria.’
‘Twelve.’
Ianthe found herself relenting slightly. Their aunt hadn’t been well enough to attend either of their parents’ funerals, though her letters of condolence had been tender and thoughtful, even inviting her to move north, though Ianthe had known that her aged, impoverished relative could hardly afford to keep herself, let alone anyone else. Given what had happened afterwards, however, now she rather wished she’d accepted...
In any case, the thought of spending some time with Aunt Sophoria now was the one bright point on her horizon. Her memories of childhood holidays spent with their mother’s sister were vague, but happy. Mostly she remembered a mass of lace and blonde ringlets enveloped in a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume.
‘I’ll be glad to see her again.’
‘And she’s agreed that you can stay as long as you want.’
‘What do you mean?’ The nostalgic feeling evaporated at once. ‘I thought we were only staying a week.’
‘Well...’ Percy squirmed in his seat. ‘The truth is, London’s expensive. I can’t afford lodgings for us both any more. And Charles thinks it’s more appropriate for you to live with Aunt Sophoria anyway.’
‘Charles thinks that?’
‘Yes, but I agree. I should have seen the propriety of it sooner.’
‘So you mean this—all of this—was his idea?’
‘I suppose so, though it really just goes to show how much he cares for you. He’s a capital fellow. You know Father thought so, too.’
‘Father never suggested I marry him! And you know how Mother felt. She didn’t even like being in the same room with him if she could help it. She always took me away, too.’
‘Oh, you women and your prejudices!’ Percy rolled his eyes in exasperation. ‘All I know is that he’s been very good to me this past year. He’s helped me out a lot with expenses.’
‘You owe him money?’
‘Just a little, though you needn’t look so disapproving. It’s not easy supporting both of us. I know Father didn’t mean to leave us in such a sorry financial state, but he did. I had to pay the bills somehow.’
‘You can’t blame Father.’ Ianthe stiffened defensively. ‘You know he was heartbroken after Mother died.’
‘He was irresponsible, letting all his investments go to ruin and leaving me to carry the burden.’
‘Burden?’ She flinched. Was that all she was now?
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Percy at least had the decency to look shame-faced. ‘All I’m saying is that we need to be practical. We don’t have the income to carry on as we are. Marriage is the only solution for a woman in your position and as far as I can see you’re not overwhelmed with suitors. That’s why I brought you here to see Charles.’
Ianthe felt a roiling sensation deep in the pit of her stomach, something between fear and disgust. She’d had her suspicions about the Baronet’s intentions—had made her own feelings on the subject abundantly clear, or so she’d thought—but she still hadn’t expected him to stoop so low.
This was all a trick. No, worse than that, a trap. Sir Charles had manipulated Percy into bringing her here, cutting her off from her home and friends, isolating her in a remote northern town with only an impoverished maiden aunt for company, probably assuming that she’d be forced to marry him.
Well, she wouldn’t be manipulated so easily. There had to be another alternative.
‘I’ll find employment.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. After what happened last time?’
‘That wasn’t my fault!’
‘So you keep saying. It’s just a good job the family were discreet or your reputation would have been ruined. I’m only glad Charles didn’t hear of it.’
Ianthe folded her arms mutinously, heartily wishing the opposite. ‘It’s not likely to happen again.’
‘No.’ Percy’s gaze swept over her critically. ‘I suppose not. But if getting a job doesn’t work out, what then? You’ll have nothing to fall back on. Marrying Charles is your best option, you must see that. You’ll have money and p
rotection and children, too, I suppose.’