Page 8 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
“I find it hard to imagine they’ll even be able to see me if this corset tightens any further.”
“Nonsense. Saoirse, pull that bottom lace just there. I can see it has some slack left in it.”
“Right you are, milady.”
Julia watched on in amusement as her sister struggled to move in the stiff whalebone. She had to admit, despite Poppy’s discomfort, that she looked beautifully slim, and the flowing yellow dress Lady Bendon had selected for this evening would perfectly highlight the slight curve of her hips. Their aunt, who was a tall woman with a kind face, long dark hair, and lingering perfume that always reminded them of a fresh bouquet, was no slouch when it came to understanding what would draw a man’s eye. That much was for sure.
Julia smiled. “Aunt Violet has been grand, hasn’t she, Poppy? All this is for you, seeing as I’m a spinster now, or so says the gossips.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Bendon scoffed. “A spinster at four-and-twenty! The things thetonbelieves nowadays. You’ve plenty of marriageable years left, Julia, so don’t think a single thing of the whispers.”
Julia shrugged. She honestly didn’t mind. Let them say whatever they liked about her age, as long as it did not impact Poppy’s chances. “I’m perfectly fine with it, Aunt Violet. Really. This Season is all about Poppy.”
“You have to look after yourself as well, dear,” Lady Bendon protested. The crow’s feet at the edge of her eyes crinkled in maternal concern. “You girls haven’t been dealt a very fair hand, growing up without your mother - and with that wicked Lord Norish gallivanting about all the time, hardly paying any attention to his family or his responsibilities. He might be my brother-in-law, but it’s shameful behavior, really it is, and I’m not afraid to say it. You both deserve better than what you’ve had.”
“But we haveyou,Aunt Violet,” Poppy reminded her, spinning slightly to the side and checking her reflection in the full-length mirror. Now that she’d gotten used to breathing in the corset, she was grinning from ear to ear as she saw what she looked like.
“If only I could have done more for you,” Lady Bendon sighed, watching her niece with affection. “But circumstances here haven’t been the easiest for us, either.” A shadow passed over her face for a moment, then it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived. She pressed a smile back into place. “Still. I shan’t hear any more nonsense about spinsterhood from you, Julia. You’ve plenty of chances to meet a gentleman, and I shall be keeping my ears out for anyone suitable, just as I will for Poppy.”
“It’s really very kind of you, Aunt Violet,” Julia conceded. “We can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for us.”
“Please, it’s nothing at all.” She waved a hand dismissively.
A knock at the door startled them. Saoirse stood and scurried over to see who it was. “Milord!” Her eyes went wide.
“I wish to speak with my wife, and you too,” came the gruff voice of their uncle, Lord Michael Bendon. At a nod from Violet, Saoirse opened the door, and he stepped in, his neatly trimmed mustache and severe eyebrows framed by his signature thin, round spectacles. He wore a long overcoat, a cloak, and long boots, which Julia personally thought was rather heavy-duty given the sunny weather. Then again, her uncle had always been a man who favored form over function.
“Violet,” he said, casting his eye around the room, then spoke as if none of the girls were present in any case. “We hadn’t discussed the matter of your nieces coming to stay with us.”
She frowned. “They are family. What’s wrong with them coming to stay? We’ve plenty of room to spare, and it’s Poppy’s first Season, so of course they’d want to be in London.”
Lord Bendon produced a newspaper from his coat pocket and threw it down on the writing desk with a sharp slap, dislodging one of the dresses that had been perched precariously on the edge. “This is the problem. Their father is all over the damn papers!”
Julia exchanged an alarmed glance with Poppy, then approached the desk to see the headline.
DISGRACED VISCOUNT FLEES COUNTRY!
Her father’s face looked back at her from the front page, an old portrait probably similar to that which might hang in the halls of the House of Lords. She covered her face with her palm. Ofcourse, the news was bound to get out sometimes, but she’d hoped they might have a little more time to get Poppy courting before it became the scandal of the Season.
She should have known, after that stranger they’d met earlier had alluded to her father’s debts, that the trouble was probably more widely known than she had anticipated, but she had no idea it was already big enough to make the front page of theExpress.
Julia looked at Poppy meaningfully. Her sister pouted before letting herself out of the room. Lord Bendon watched her go acidly, then waited for Saoirse to follow and close the door before rounding on Julia angrily.
“So what do you have to say for yourselves?” he challenged her. “You bring this kind of scandal tomydoorstep? I have my own daughter to care for! Did you think about the shame this could bring down upon her by association?”
“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, stop it, Michael!” Lady Bendon snapped. “Leave the girl alone, please. It’s not her fault their father is a scoundrel.”
“Nor is itGeorgia’sfault that she is a relation of theirs,” her husband pressed. “But their presence here in this house will do unspeakable damage to her reputation.”
“She isn’t even going to be out for a few years yet,” their aunt tried to soothe him. “By then, you know there’ll be a hundredmore interesting events to fill the gossip rags than this one. Nobody will even remember.”
“I think you’re underestimating the scale of this,” he warned, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. “Lord Norish has gone too far this time. He’s always been a weasel, but the kind of people he’s indebted to - they’ve got long memories. We can’t have anything to do with his daughters, for the sake of our family, and that’s my final word on the matter.”
Julia’s heart was pounding. “Puh…P…Please,” she stuttered, “Lord Bendon. We’ve already received an invitation to a week-long party for the beginning of the Season. We’re expected there tonight. This may be our only chance to find Poppy a match. We, too, are the victims of our father’s misdeeds. We have no house, no fortune, no dowries. If we are to have any opportunity to save ourselves, we cannot afford to miss the Season.”
Lord Bendon scoffed. “What makes you think any man will go within ten miles of her? The two of you carry the stain of your father’s name, and without even a dowry, there’s no reason any respectable gentleman would give her the time of day.”
“She might find a love match,” Lady Bendon reminded him softly. “She is a pretty young girl in her debut Season. Stranger things have happened, Michael.”
