on the sleeves and neckline. She decided it was best to go without jewelry until George put the heavy ruby-and-diamond ring on her finger. George’s housekeeper arranged the wedding breakfast. The invitations were handwritten on the Allington engraved stationery.
After the wedding breakfast, Frances had gone up to her boudoir to change. Her brand-new maid, hired a week before the wedding, was pinning up her hair as she sat before the mirror.
Harriet came into the room without so much as a knock to announce herself. “I need a moment with Mrs. Allington,” she said to Antoinette, and before Frances could stop her, the maid was out of the room.
“Wait!” Frances exclaimed, though it was already too late. Antoinette was gone.
People did that with Harriet. They obeyed every one of her orders, as if she were Queen Victoria herself. It was infuriating.
Frances’s temper began to rise, her ready anger flaring. She wanted to jump up from her stool and stamp her foot, but her legs had gotten tangled in the lacy drapery of the dressing table. She felt small and weak, which made her even more furious.
She should be feeling triumphant! Even Harriet should respect what she had just accomplished, marrying a wealthy widower, becoming a cherished young bride despite her lack of dowry or family connections. Resentment drove her voice high, making her sound more like a complaining child than the new mistress of a Riverside Drive mansion. “Harriet, what—”
“You forced him, didn’t you, Frances?”
Trapped by the swath of lace, Frances turned abruptly back to her mirror. She fussed with a strand of hair not yet pinned into place, endeavoring to hide her suddenly flaming cheeks.
Harriet had not bothered with a new ensemble for the occasion. Her visiting dress must be at least five years old, with flat sleeves and only a few jet buttons. It didn’t surprise Frances, but it was a further annoyance. Harriet might be a forty-year-old spinster, but she could afford good clothes if she cared to bother. Her dead fiancé had left her enough for that and more. She could have worn an up-to-date gown for the wedding of a cousin, however distant. She was, after all, the bride’s only family.
Frances scowled into her mirror. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Harriet,” she said. She took one quick look upward and saw that the corners of Harriet’s mouth were pinched with anger, drawing unattractive lines in her cheeks. The lines made her cousin look older than she really was, which gave Frances a brief feeling of superiority. She smoothed the strand of hair into place and adjusted a pin to hold it. She turned her head to assess the effect and was reassured by the smoothness of her cheeks, the unblemished line of her neck above the lace of her shirtwaist.
She preened a bit, twisting one of the expensive ruby earrings her groom had given her as a wedding present. “George is in love with me, Harriet. Anyone can see it. Why should you think I had to force him?”
“I don’t know that you had to,” Harriet answered with asperity. “I know that you did.”
Frances dropped her hand to the dressing table, flexing the fingers to appreciate the sparkle of her wedding ring. “You can’t know that, Harriet,” she said. “You’re just jealous.”
“I’m not in the least jealous, but I’m worried about the welfare of my great-niece. She’s lost her grandmother and her mother, and her father has rushed into marriage.”
“Annis will be fine. I’ll see to it.”
“You know nothing of children.”
“Neither do you!” Frances retorted, but her cheeks burned again.
“I do, actually, Frances. I often treat childhood ailments in my herbalism practice.”
“Herbalism!” Frances spit. “You could do so much more.”
“I could, and I do, when it’s needed. I know the best uses for my ability, and I’m careful not to misuse it. You should do the same.”
Frances finally freed her legs from the drapery of her dressing table and stood up. Her head came no higher than Harriet’s shoulder, which she hated, so she moved away to the wardrobe, where her going-away cape waited, blue brocade with a white fur lining.
She lifted it down and held it in front of her as she turned back to Harriet. “I don’t need you to tell me how to use my ability, Harriet.”
“Grandmother Beryl warned you. I warned you. You should have avoided the maleficia. It will always do more harm than good.”
Frances tossed the cape onto the bed and returned to her dressing table. She