"And so I will, but you mustn't get pushy. Preach all you like about old rocks and foreigners, but when it comes to gentlemen, you don't know a thing."
Lydia's mouth dropped open on a silent syllable. If only these walls could speak, they would make a rebuttal for her! "Indeed? I know nothing! When Gladstone joined us for supper last week, and you nearly fell asleep in the soup, who rescued the discussion?"
"You droned on about Home Rule for half an hour," Sophie snapped. "I am surprised he did not fall asleep. George was mortified."
"George was grateful for my intercession," Lydia said sharply. He had even given her a weak smile of thanks.
Sophie gave a one-shouldered shrug. "He felt too embarrassed for you to say anything, I suppose."
Embarrassed for her, was he? George was not mortified three years ago, she thought. When he assaulted me in this room, when he grabbed me and groped me and kissed me, he did not find me wanting then. "Mr. Gladstone asked my opinion of the subject," she said between her teeth. "So 1 responded. And what were we meant to talk about, then? Your decolletage? Ana's newly abundant posterior? Really, Sophie, what are you teaching her with this behavior? Pretty eyes aren't the only asset a woman might possess—and little good they serve when a man has nobler interests than flirtation!"
Sophie smiled at her. "There's your mistake," she said sweedy. "You mistake disinterest for nobility. Dear Lydia, just because a man doesn't find you attractive doesn't mean he has no interest in flirting with other, prettier women. So you see, there is no need to set your example for Ana: she will never need the skills that you so much require."
"How clever you are with cruelty," Lydia said flady. "Are you very proud of it?"
"I only speak the truth. Surely a great scholar like yourself should admire that."
Never had the temptation to confess been stronger. The words were so close to emerging that she could feel their weight and shape on her tongue.
But she would not say it. It had been so long ago. And the tale would flatter her as litde as it did George. After all, he'd had liquor to blame for his behavior. But what reason could she give for the way her arms had twined around him? For a few brief seconds before she'd ripped herself away, his treachery had ... gratified her. You made the wrong choice, she'd thought. You know it now.
As always, the memory made her gorge rise. Amid the self-contempt and anger, only one thing was clear to her. She had wanted to know what it was like to be kissed; she had found out, to her own shame. She took a deep breath. "I won't bother to argue with you," she said, and cleared her throat. "It comes down to this: Papa left the task to both of us. We will both find Ana a husband."
Sophie yawned. "Papa is in Egypt. And I doubt he would turn up his nose at a future earl."
"Papa would not give a fig for a tide if it meant marrying Ana to a drunkard."
A smirk curved her sister's mouth. "That is not what he told me."
"What? When?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you? He wrote me a letter."
Lydia knew a moment of shock. "He didn't."
"No?" Sophie smiled. "You're not his only daughter, you know."
Common sense reasserted itself. Papa always routed the family correspondence through her. "True enough," she said with a shrug. "Let me see the letter, then."
"Why should I? It wasn't meant for you."
There was no letter, of course. Sophie was only trying to annoy her. What had started this whole argument? Ah, yes. "Well, none of it matters anyway. Sanburne is already linked with Mrs. Chudderley."
"Mrs. Chudderley?" Ana had left off with the bouquets and come to join them. Her bright tone was deliberate: she did not mind quarreling when she was instrumental to it, but when it cropped up among others, it made her uneasy. "The professional beauty?"
Lydia stepped in before Sophie could. "Yes, Lord Sanburne's fiancee."
"Oh! Is he engaged to her? I'm not surprised. You see her pictures in all the
Carmen Caine, Madison Adler