Katherine broke the silence. “Why would you…?” She steepled her fingers and pressed the tips to her mouth. “This is about that blasted pendant, isn’t it? The—”
“The heart of a duke, yes.” Her lips twisted. Only now, she realized how very grasping, how very shameful her efforts had been. She’d once imagined a match with a distinguished, powerful duke posed as the ultimate triumph over her parents’ miserable existence. In the end, she’d found she wanted nothing more than that honorable, respectable match—except she wanted it with Harry, and no other.
Katherine said nothing for a long while. She sank back in her seat. “Oh, dear.”
Anne thought ‘oh, hell’, would better suit the current situation, but she supposed ‘oh, dear’ would also suffice.
“And Lord Rutland discovered your intentions,” she said to herself.
Anne toyed with her skirt. “Discovered my intentions.” And would ruin her for it.
Katherine’s eyes slid closed. “Oh, dear.”
Their mother chose that opportune moment to make her entrance, sweeping past Jasper, and advancing deep into the room. She glared Anne into silence. “I’ve tolerated your headstrong spiritedness through the years. I’ve forgiven your lack of marriage for three Seasons. This, however, I cannot forgive.”
Katherine sprang to her feet. Ever the protector, she placed herself between Anne and their mother’s vitriolic attack. “Lord Stanhope aside, Mother, we shall find Anne a perfectly suitable husband.” She turned an optimistic smile on her sister. “Why, you’ll have the heart of a handsome, young, affable duke,” she said using Anne’s innocently hopeful words from more than a year ago when they’d traipsed over the ice at the Frost Fair.
“No gentleman will have her.” Mother held Anne’s stare, and she knew before the words left Mother’s lips, what would be required of her. “You know what you must do, Anne. I’d expected it would be Katherine, but it must be you.”
The resignation in Mother’s tone raised the stirring of panic within her belly. Revulsion snaked through her being at the prospect of marriage to Mr. Ekstrom. Anne sank into the edge of a nearby seat. “I know.” Did that garbled whisper belong to her?
Katherine’s head whipped back and forth between them. “I don’t understand.”
Anne considered the stocky, Bertie Ekstrom with his sausage-sized fingers and leering gaze. She managed words past the lump in her throat. The heart-wrenchingly beautiful lessons Harry had given her on seduction, their stolen interludes, all of it would be the complete ruin of her. Always considered the passionate, flighty sister, she prided herself on maintaining her composure in the face of the horrible life in front of her. “I have to wed someone, Katherine. I cannot simply trust Lord Rutland will not someday divulge the scandalous information he discovered.”
“That is the first sensible decision you’ve made since you began carrying on with that outrageous rogue.” Icy scorn coated Mother’s words.
Her sister ignored their irate mother and looked momentarily to her husband who remained at the door as a manner of sentry. A look passed between husband and wife. Again, an almost painful envy coursed through Anne at the shared connection. He gave an imperceptible nod.
Katherine’s brown eyes formed wide circles in her face. “No,” she breathed. “Not—”
“Don’t,” Anne implored, not needing, and certainly not wanting the words uttered into existence.
“You’d have her wed vile Mr. Ekstrom,” Katherine hissed.
“I’d see her married and protected while you’d see her ruined,” her mother spat.
The two women stood, locked in a silent battle of the wills. Mother had once sought to wed Katherine to their cousin. With her quick wit and bold courage, she’d instead put an offer of marriage to the Duke of Bainbridge, thus saving herself from Mother’s maneuverings. However, Anne was long past saving. She knew that. Her guardian would know that. And if Rutland had his way, everyone in polite Society would soon know it, too.
Katherine broke the impasse. “I’ll see you a spinster before I ever see you wed that vile toad,” she said to Anne, never taking her eyes from their mother.
The countess narrowed her eyes. “I shall speak to your uncle first thing in the morning, Anne. After his shameful lack of regard for my marital aspirations for Katherine,” Katherine’s eyebrows dipped. “I’m sure he’ll at least have sense enough to see to the necessity of a union between yourself and Mr. Ekstrom.”