The First Proposal - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,36
she demanded.
Westerhaven cocked his head in question, “Does that matter?”
“Well, it might,” Daphne hedged. “I’m not certain if you are aware of Lady Sheffield’s past relationship with Mr. Dunne, but Persephone is. If she sees them together, she might throw him off entirely.”
“And yet I was given to understand she only cared about his fortune,” Westerhaven observed, offering her his arm.
Daphne let out a little trill of nervous laughter. “Well, women are capricious and often territorial. One never knows how we’ll respond to things!”
“We don’t have any more time to waste,” he said.
Daphne accepted his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her through the ballroom. They stepped from the crowded room filled with dancing couples and full of laughter into a nearly silent corridor, save for the distant hum from the ballroom.
“The library is just there,” Westerhaven said and pointed toward a door. “Lady Sheffield and Dunne are in there.”
Daphne approached that door and knocked softly. It was Lady Sheffield who called out for her to enter. Stepping inside, the room was very dimly lit. Lady Sheffield and Dunne were standing before the fireplace.
“I’ve tried to warn him,” Lady Sheffield said. “I told him precisely what you told me… that your sister, Miss Blake, is a terrible fortune hunter. That you only warned me of it so that I might help him because Lady Habersham had told you of our friendship.”
“And I told her,” Dunne interjected angrily, “That Miss Blake has never tried to conceal her lack of fortune. I also told her that Lady Habersham is a terrible gossip, a horrid woman, and she only lives to see the ruin of others. Clearly you have something in common with her.”
“But surely you must see that Percy cannot have any real feelings for you?” Daphne cajoled. “Why, you’ve only just met! You don’t know her as I do! Why, for years Persephone has been begging me to bring her to town so that she might find herself a rich husband!”
“Even if such a thing were true, which is questionable, that hardly makes her a fortune hunter,” Dunne replied. “That makes her quite smart. Every young woman in society is looking to make an eligible match. Let’s be honest, Mrs. Fennelworth, you don’t want Persephone to marry because your husband’s business affairs are in a state of decline and you can no longer afford to maintain your lavish wardrobe and your household. You’re using your sister as slave labor to help raise your misbegotten, Satan-spawned brood!”
“How dare you, sir!” Daphne gasped. “You’ve no right to speak to me that way!”
“No, he doesn’t have,” Persephone said, emerging from behind a curtain. “But I do. I’ve never asked to come to town and live with you. I’ve certainly never asked you to help me find a husband, especially given that the last time I confessed to even having any interest in someone, you married him for yourself. And now, nearly a decade and a half later, you came to me after father’s burial and begged me to come live with you, to finally put aside all our differences and be the sisters we should have been all along. Since I’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but belittle me, force me to take care of your children, threaten to turn me out into the streets without a penny at every turn and now, when I have a chance at happiness, you’ve done everything in your power to sabotage it.”
Daphne stared at the group of people before her. Westerhaven, Lady Sheffield, Dunne and Persephone were all in it together, plotting against her. “Fine. You’re not a fortune hunter. You’re just my older, fatter, spinster sister! You don’t deserve happiness! You certainly do not deserve a rich husband who will let you spend as you choose! Why should you get what I’ve never had? Why?”
“Because unlike you,” Persephone replied, “I’m actually capable of loving someone, of caring for them enough to put their needs before my own. I feel very sorry for you, Daphne. You will never be happy in your life because your covetous heart will not permit it.”
Bitterness rose up inside her, Daphne looked from Dunne to her sister and then uttered the last hateful thing that she knew. “Did he tell you about the bet?”
“What bet?” Dunne demanded.
“The one where he bet his brother in law that he could secure your hand! I heard Viscount Holland boasting about it in the street, that he’d put twenty quid on you to turn him