THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

                            CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

LATER THAT AFTERNOON AT THE HOME OF LORD DUNSTAN

‘Of course, Lady Chardsworth, as I was saying to Lady Susan Birkett only last week,’ Lady Constance Dunstan said, trying to control the envy in her voice. ‘I was only too delighted when I heard the news of the betrothal of your son Viscount James to Cecilie Birkett. A brilliant union.’

    ‘Most assuredly,’ Lady Charsdworth agreed. ‘It will be an early spring wedding, you know.’

    Lady Constance smiled weakly at her visitor. ‘How delightful.’

    Lady Chardsworth glanced towards the other end of the room where the Dunstan girls were engaged in making music; Honoria at the piano, Petunia at the harp and the youngest Clementine playing the violin. As usual, the young girls’ rounded proportions were straining at the seams of their fashionable silk and satin gowns.

    ‘Such talented daughters you have, Lady Constance,’ Lady Chardsworth observed. ‘Such sweet music and such sweet natures, which is a blessing when other attributes are lacking. I wonder that they are not taken up by some musically minded suitor or another.’

    Lady Constance held down to her growing anger with difficulty. The woman was here only to insult and gloat at their lack of success this Season.

    ‘My girls are so choosy,’ she said through stiffened lips. ‘Honoria refused Mr Brimbleton because he did not suit her, even though he is as rich as Croesus.’

    This was not exactly true. Mr Brimbleton had disgraced himself in dangling after Eleanor Wellesley, and then, when she refused him, he had run back to Devon with his tail between his legs.

    Still at times like these a white lie here and there saved one’s face, and saving one’s face was all that mattered. And as Heaven only knew, she was practiced at that!

    ‘Honoria is twenty years, is she not?’ Lady Chardsworth remarked loftily. ‘She must not leave it too much longer.’

    Lady Constance swallowed her anger again.

    ‘One does not like to look desperate,’ she said archly. ‘And taking the first offer that comes along is beneath Honoria or any of my girls. They have grown up with the very best in life and can expect nothing less in their marriage.’

    ‘That’s all very well,’ Lady Chardsworth retorted haughtily. ‘But when a girl’s attributes are less than they should be, she must consider herself lucky to marry at all.’

    Lady Dunstan was saved giving a robust reply when the drawing room door opened and Lord Dunstan came in leaving the door ajar.

    ‘Constance, my dear, I have some wonderful news,’ he said, and he did look extremely please, his wife thought.

    He glanced at their visitor. ‘Ah! Lady Chardsworth you will be first to hear the news that I have just this moment granted Honoria’s hand in marriage.’

    ‘What?’ Both women responded in unison.

    ‘Dunstan! What is this?’ his wife burst out. ‘Why have I not been informed of this sooner?’

    The music at the other end of the room stopped abruptly and Honoria came forward.

    ‘There is no need to be fussed, Mama,’ she said calmly. ‘There is a reason for the secrecy.’

    ‘Oh, mercy me!’ Lady Constance cried. ‘Do not tell me your father has given your hand to some foreign Count with no fortune.’

    ‘Decidedly not!’ Lord Dunstan exclaimed. ‘Honoria’s betrothed is an English gentleman of the first order, with extensive estates and a title.’