Popular novels, were, however, exempt from censure. The ton had deemed them acceptable entertainment for the fairer sex.
Their mother’s expression relaxed ever so slightly. “I grant you, such silly adventures are mildly amusing, but I’ve got some exciting news that will quickly put all thoughts of novels out of your head.”
Anna felt a prickling of unease run down her spine.
“I just received a letter in the morning post from my dearest school friend, the Countess of Dunbar…”
A “dearest” school friend who had pointedly ignored the baroness when the Sloane family had been dancing on the razor’s edge of poverty, thought Anna with an inward sigh.
“Just look!” went on Lady Trumbull, a triumphant flourish producing the missive in question. The paper was indeed festooned with the remains of an ornate red wax seal. “Of course, it is only a Scottish title, and not nearly as impressive as Wrexham’s earldom, but still…”
A title is a title, mouthed Caro, careful to mask the impertinence by brushing a lock of hair from her cheek.
The paper fluttered again, emitting the discreet crackle that only expensive stationery could achieve. “I am sure you girls are all agog to learn what exciting news it contains.”
“I am holding my breath,” murmured Anna. Whatever it was, she was certain that she wasn’t going to like it.
Lady Trumbull inhaled deeply and held her breath for a moment, savoring the coming words like a fine wine. “We are invited to a shooting party for the month of August at dear Miriam’s castle in Scotland.”
Scotland. Anna cocked an ear. A country house party in the remote wilds of the north was not something that would normally send her mother into a fit of raptures. Not unless…
“And she informs me that the other guests will include several Prussian nobles—and a prince!”
Of course. The party included eligible men. Now that Olivia had captured an earl, their mother had apparently raised her sights to royalty.
“Which prince?” asked Caro curiously.
Lady Trumbull waved off the question. “Oh, Schlezzie-Whatsie or some such thing. All those little German fiefdoms are so dreadfully confusing.” Turning a beatific smile on Anna, she continued, “What matters is that Miriam says he is rich, handsome, charming—and unmarried.”
Anna looked down at her lap. In the past, she had accepted the fact that her beauty must be bartered in order to provide for her family’s security. However, things had changed.
“And since Lord Andover has not come up to scratch, Anna…”
The truth was, after fueling his courage with one too many glasses of claret, Andover had broached the subject of marriage to her several weeks ago, though he had been wise enough to do it in private. Wisdom, along with a kind nature and self-deprecating sense of humor—that was more than most ladies were offered. And yet it wasn’t enough. She had gently but firmly informed him that while she valued his friendship, she did not think they would suit as husband and wife.
He had actually seemed rather relieved, mumbling something about perfection and pedestals.
“You have every right to look elsewhere,” finished their mother.
Elsewhere being Dunbar, Scotland.
As if she didn’t have enough worries here in London. Now that Andover had gracefully withdrawn his attentions, two other gentlemen had become more ardent in their attempts to win her regard. Both were very pleasant, and yet…
A quip from Caro interrupted her musings. “So, grouse and pheasants will not be the only hunted creatures on the windswept moors. The royal party of foreign blue bloods is going to find itself fair game.”
“Bite your tongue, Caro!” admonished their mother. “A lady must never, ever give voice to such vulgar speculations.”
“Especially when they are true,” retorted the youngest Sloane in a low whisper.
Anna shook her head ever so slightly in warning.
“Don’t be impertinent. Men dislike ladies who express opinions as if they possessed…”
A brain? thought Anna.
“…any understanding of the world,” said Lady Trumbull with a huff of exasperation, “As I’ve told you repeatedly, you must try to follow your sister’s example. She understands exactly what is expected of a paragon of propriety, and does not disappoint.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Caro after a tiny hesitation. For the moment, she seemed to have taken the talk on controlling impulsive urges to heart.