response was a garbled sound of outrage—one that might be classified as a grunt mixed with a muffled scream. Diana winced, looping her arm through hers and bodily urging her to slow her swift steps.
“Slowly now, and smile. People are watching.”
Calliope remembered that this time of day the park was at its most crowded, though it was not as clogged as it would be during the Season. Still, there were dozens of fashionable people of the ton about, and many of them stared openly as they walked past. Calliope stifled her emotions and forced a genial smile—a skill she’d had to develop since her first Season, and one that continued to serve her well. It would never do for any woman to act in an unseemly manner in public, but she would earn twice as much scrutiny for it. She could never give them a reason to look down their noses at her more than they already did.
“Deep breath, my dear,” Diana said through her teeth, simpering and nodding a greeting to a passing matron and two young ladies. “Now … tell me what happened.”
Her shoulders slumped as the weight of yet another defeat pressed down on her. “The same thing that always happens. I spend weeks or months letting a gentleman court me, thinking that perhaps this one will be different—this man will be the one. Meanwhile, they never want anything more than to get under my skirts, though they are never shy about letting me know how lucrative such an arrangement could be for me.”
It was difficult to keep her face passive as she hissed out her diatribe, voice lowered as much as her ire would allow. Her grip on Diana’s arm tightened, and she shook with the unrelenting anger thrumming through her. She wanted to march back to that tree and throttle Mr. Gordon.
“How preposterous they are,” Diana remarked with a shake of her head. “Don’t they know you’re an heiress with a fortune of your own? You have no need to become any man’s mistress.”
“It doesn’t matter to them. They don’t look at me and see a potential wife. They see a plaything … an exotic oddity they would flaunt on their arms and take to their beds, but they wouldn’t marry or sire sons with.”
Diana’s sweet face turned mournful, her blonde brows drawing together. “Oh, Callie … I wish your experience had been a better one. But you must believe the right man is out there. You cannot allow a few rotten apples to keep you from searching for him.”
Diana was so dear, always looking for the silver lining and attempting to bring joy to the people she cared about. And she was so good at it that everyone absolutely adored her. She’d had no problem nabbing a husband during her first Season, while Calliope had finished her third with nothing to show for her efforts. Diana continued to pretend she was shocked that her elder sister had not received an offer of marriage yet. Why wouldn’t someone want to marry the daughter of a viscount who came with a massive dowry and a father as influential and well-connected as theirs?
Diana meant well, but she could never understand. She looked upon Calliope and saw only the sister she loved. The rest of society saw a half-breed, a woman who was only considered one of them because of a twist of fate.
No one being introduced to the Barrington sisters would guess that they shared a father. Calliope was dark where Diana was light—her hair raven-black, her skin slightly bronzed, and her eyes a dusky brown. Diana had the round face, plump lips, and soft features of a perfect English rose, while Calliope carried the clear stamp of her Bengali mother’s heritage.
These differences had meant nothing when they were children. Calliope had been delighted to learn that her father’s second wife was with child, and was elated to be presented with a little sister to play with and love. It wasn’t until Calliope’s first Season that she was made fully aware of her perceived place in this world. It had stung, yet she had never let anyone but Diana know it.
“I’ve decided to give up. I will resign myself to being a wealthy spinster … perhaps I will develop a few interesting eccentricities. Do you think Hastings will mind if I live with the two of you until I’ve died?”
Diana issued a dry laugh. “My husband is quite fond of you, as you know, and of course