Chapter Three #3
Tony tried not to frown. For if he did, it would give himself away to everyone at the table.
He usually loved the noisy family dinners, but he was concerned for Miss Sterling, who looked as out of place as a chimneysweep would be sitting at their table.
He could not fault her manners, nor her attempt to look calm in such an alien situation and yet, she was a gentleman’s daughter who had spent time in a school for merchants’ daughters when most girls of her station would have been educated by a governess.
The true extent of her education, he realized sadly, was unknown.
He could see she was struggling, not with the mechanics of the meal.
She had picked up the right fork, at least, but the social aspect.
She had not said a word. It was in her mannerisms, the way her eyes darted around, the blush on her cheeks, and the way she was fidgeting with her napkin. She was not enjoying herself.
He could admit to himself that he found her fascinating.
It was not often he was presented with such a puzzle.
He wanted to know more about her, to understand her.
It was what he needed in order to help her.
Although they had talked for some while in the garden today, he knew she was holding back.
She had not lied outright, but omitted information that most would be happy to divulge.
He was well versed in the art of detecting deception; it was what he did, but with her it was more about the things she left unsaid that interested him.
Her situation felt unbelievable. How could one be totally forgotten? Left to live a life dependent on the kindness of the headmistress of a school for the working class. Allowed to stay because money kept coming and she simply had nowhere else to go.
He felt for her, and that was an unfamiliar experience for him.
He was her guardian; it was part of the position to protect her from danger, but he had this overwhelming need to protect her in other ways.
Protect her from hurt, embarrassment, and the loneliness she had experienced in her life.
He could see the history of her life in her eyes, and it was not a happy one.
She tried to hide it, but it was there in those sad green depths, and it made his chest squeeze.
*
“Miss Sterling, whatever are we to do with you?” Lucinda’s head came up abruptly to find the dowager studying her.
“You are as thin as a rail, you poor dear. Warrington says you are Tony’s ward, but I see you are old enough to have been presented.
Why did that not happen? We shall have to remedy that posthaste. Yes. We will be very busy indeed.”
Whatever did the woman have planned for her?
“Mother,” Lord Ashton warned.
“One cannot be presented to the queen on a whim, my dear. Your curtsey was passable. Can you walk backwards? Are you clumsy like Marianne or do you think you can walk down an aisle without falling over?”
“I did not fall over,” Marianne whispered.
Her mother simply waved her hands about while waiting for Lucinda to answer.
“The queen? I am not sure…” Lucinda began.
“Excellent. The sooner the better if we are to launch you in time for the season.”
“Mother, Miss Sterling only arrived yesterday,” Lord Ashton said, obviously trying to divert her from the subject of the queen.
Could he see her panic? “She still needs many things before she is ready to be seen by the ton. She only has two dresses. Perhaps a visit to your modiste first; the queen will wait a few days surely.”
Oh, why would he humiliate her like that? Only two dresses to her name. Not a penny to spare for a beggar, he may as well have said. He was supposed to be on her side.
“No dresses? What? Did you lose them in a fire, dear? Do not tell me you were held up by a highwayman. Goodness, I would have swooned.”
Lucinda did not know how to respond to that other than, “No, not in a fire or a highwayman. I am afraid my summons here was rather… urgent and there was no time to pack what I required. In any case, they would not have been suitable.” She may as well admit her dresses were nothing but well-maintained castoffs.
The duke spoke next. “Miss Sterling requires your most generous care, Mother. This hastiness is not at all palatable, I know, but the poor girl needs kindness, from all of us.”
The poor girl needs kindness. This was her nightmare. That they would see her as nothing more than a charity case. She had been pitied for being an orphan most of her life and was sick of it. No more! She did not need fixing. She needed guidance—that was all.
Ashamed of her circumstances, and her need to be here, she could not raise her eyes to meet all those around the table who were no doubt waiting for her to do… something. How they must pity her now. She could not bear it.
“This is my fault. I apologize,” Lord Ashton said. “I should have informed them of your circumstances so Mother would not jump to these ludicrous conclusions of fires and highwaymen.”
She could not take another moment. “No. It is I who should apologize. May I be excused, Your Grace?” She could not look up, knowing all their eyes were upon her.
“Of course,” the duke replied, but she dared not look at him either.
There was silence as she rose, her chair making a sharp scraping sound in the now silent room. She managed a curtsey before fleeing the room.
“Well done, Mother, and you too, Your Grace,” she heard Tony say as she left the room. The sound of raised voices followed her up the stairs.