Beneath the Black Moon (Root Sisters) Read Online Free PDF Page B

barbecue.
    “Not
really,” Cam said honestly.
    Surprisingly
enough, that didn’t seem to be what Diana wanted to hear. Her eyes narrowed,
and she stared at Cam hostilely. “Society is wasted on you,” she said finally.
“You and Helen both,” and before Cam could answer Diana had slipped back into
her room and closed the door behind her.
    Cam
briefly debated knocking on her sister’s door, but so far her day had been one
difficult conversation after another, and she didn’t have the energy to talk to
Diana too.
    Diana
hadn’t always been this way. It had taken her some time to recover after their
mother’s death, but eventually Diana had put on a brave face and soldiered on.
She was one of those people who could act happy even when she was most
miserable. For most of Cam’s childhood, Diana had been bright, vivacious, the
life of every party and their father’s favorite. But after Edgar Marlkress had
told a few of his friends about his relationship with Diana, and they had told
a few of their friends, who had told a few of their friends, and so on, Diana’s
life had changed. It had become apparent that she would never be able to find a
decent husband, and girls who couldn’t find decent husbands lived at home, a
burden to their families. It had been difficult for Diana to make the
transition from Papa’s Little Darling to Papa’s Big Burden, and while at first
Diana had done her best to rise to the occasion, lately she seemed increasingly
angry and resentful. Not that Cam could blame her.
    Fortunately,
Cam didn’t have long to dwell on her sister’s plight. Aunt Beth would expect
her back downstairs soon, so Cam had just a few minutes to savor the peace and
quiet of her room before she would be thrust back downstairs and forced to
continue the charade.

Chapter Three
    “Cam,
you can wear the taffeta. You have had it for three months and haven't worn it.
Don't you like it?” Aunt Beth asked from where she stood in the hall, and Cam
was grateful for the lock on her bedroom door. Aunt Beth was normally the
picture of propriety, but she had occasionally been known to enter her nieces’
bedrooms without knocking, if she considered her errand important enough. If
Aunt Beth barged in tonight, she would see that Cam was sitting on her bed in a
simple visiting dress, not dressing for the ball. Cam was waiting for everyone
else in the house to go downstairs so that she could retire to the kitchen with
her grandmother and Caro.
    “I'm
very tired. I think it's the heat,” Cam told her aunt, taking the small
portrait of her mother that sat by her bedside and turning it over, as was her
habit when she was lying. She hated the idea of her mother witnessing her
dishonesty.
    “Are
you sure that's all?” Cam heard her aunt's hand on the doorknob and smiled to
herself when the door refused to open.
    “Quite
sure. Some rest and I will be as good as new. Please don't worry on my account.
I want you to enjoy the ball. You took such time and care planning it.”
    “Very
well,” her aunt said reluctantly, and as she turned to go, Cam just barely
caught her aunt's words, “the ball wasn't for me, it’s for you girls.”
    Cam
experienced a sharp pang of guilt at that. Her aunt was trying so hard. Beth
always had, from the day that she had first come to live with them. Elizabeth
had been widowed young and made up her mind never to marry again. When her baby
brother had been left with three small girls to raise, she had moved in to help
care for them without a second thought.
    Cam
knew that her aunt tried to connect with them, tried to share her interests
with them. When Elizabeth was their age, dances had excited her, so she tried
to organize balls and social events for them. She had loved dresses when she
was young (and still did, though as an aging widow she usually chose only the
most sedate clothing for herself) and so the three of them always had the
finest gowns. Diana loved pretty dresses, but couldn't wear them