Page 5 of The Disgraceful Duchess

She must keep her mind focused on her work. After all, her book would be in direct competition with The Prisoner of San Severino. That in itself was cause for despair. She would never be able to bring Venice to life the way that its author had. His harrowing descriptions of the hero’s imprisonment on an island in the lagoon—chained in a cliffside cave with only the decaying skeletons of past prisoners for company—were so vivid that they’d kept readers awake all across England.

The footmen left the room. Lady Theodosia returned to the attack. “Sir Simon may wish to call.”

“Well, I am far too busy with the book to think of courtship.”

“But you will not be writing the book forever.”

“No, but the moment that I finish it I shall have to begin the next one.”

Lady Theodosia frowned. “Surely not.”

“Mr. Wynde says that in order to become a success, I must keep my name before the public. And since I am a slow writer, I cannot afford to waste time.”

Lady Theodosia was looking more and more dismayed. “But what about your future? What about finding a suitable husband?”

“Well, I…” Pomona had been hoping to avoid this subject. “I have decided that having a husband is out of the question.”

There was a silence. She dared not look up. “Out of the…” Lady Theodosia’s tone was shocked. “What can you mean?”

Pomona took a breath. “I am able to earn my own money now. And… and I should prefer to live with you, and continue writing.”

“My dear, you must form attachments with people of your own age! And besides, there is no reason that you may not continue to write after you are married.”

“Husbands take up far too much time. Besides, it would be impossible to keep him from finding out about my books.”

“Keep him from finding out?” Lady Theodosia set down her fork in shock. “But... why should you? The count made no difficulty about my translations.” Lady Theodosia was celebrated in learned Continental circles for having translated the works of a famous Swedish philosopher into German. Her husband, a Bavarian count, had doted on his beautiful, intellectual wife.

“But that is completely different. English gentlemen call ladies who write "bluestockings." And besides, philosophy is respectable. Whereas people say that novel-reading is making ladies lazy and irresponsible, and putting ideas into their heads.”

Lady Theodosia sniffed. “Well, people say that about anything that ladies enjoy. It goes without saying that you need never pay the slightest attention.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. “Well. You need not make any final decisions now,” said Lady Theodosia, finally. “You are still young. Last season you were forced to live very quietly. But now that the scandal has died down, you will enjoy attending more lively entertainments.”

“The scandal will never die down. Not so long as Mr. Townley is here to keep it alive.”

Lady Theodosia’s eyes narrowed. “How I should like to wring that wretch’s…” She stopped herself. “Well. One day he will get his comeuppance.”

“Men like that never get a comeuppance.”

“Do not be so certain.” Lady Theodosia smiled serenely. “Who knows? Perhaps you will be the one to deliver it to him.”

“Considering that he makes me so nervous that I can scarcely speak, I very much doubt it.” Pomona was losing her appetite. All of it—the sense of failure she carried with her from her struggle with the new book, knowing that she was odd and unlikable, the ever-present threat of more scandal—sat in her stomach like a weight.

“At any rate, you will not be barred from Almack’s again this year. Not that you were barred, precisely,” added Lady Theodosia, quickly. “It was a simple misunderstanding. The Countess de Lieven is an old acquaintance. If you do not receive vouchers by the end of this week, we shall call upon her.”

If anyone could salvage Pomona’s ruined prospects it was Lady Theodosia, whose perfect manners and gracious smile masked a will of steel. For a moment Pomona allowed herself to imagine the glittering future that her great aunt was so confident that she would have: Almack’s. An alliance with a suitable, sensible, intelligent man of fortune… A family of her own…

“No.”

Lady Theodosia froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“No. I shall not grovel to the Countess de Lieven. I want nothing to do with any of these people. They are cruel, and insipid, and they have chosen to believe the worst of me for nothing more than their own entertainment. I have been the butt of their jokes, and I… I…” Her hand was shaking. She put down her wineglass.

“Oh, Pomona!” Lady Theodosia’s voice was soft. “I am sorry.”

“None of my former friends speak to me. Mama blames me for everything. If you had not come back from Germany and invited me to live with you, I do not know what I…” To her horror, tears welled up in her eyes. She gulped and gave her head a quick shake. “Oh, never mind. Do not listen to me. I… I had a wretched day with my writing.”

Lady Theodosia studied her with a concerned frown. “Well, you cannot go on like this. I should like to speak to this publisher of yours. You are working yourself to the bone.”