Ten Things I Hate About the Duke - Loretta Chase Page 0,1

with Owsley and his defective bill, but felt obliged to raise questions herself, in a public place, to make us the laughingstocks of London.”

Cassandra had expected a severe scolding. What she had not prepared for was her father summoning her sister Hyacinth into the study as well.

But lately, Papa had been behaving oddly regarding Hyacinth. This started when he, Mama, and Hyacinth arrived in London for the sitting of Parliament and the social events connected to it. Shortly after they settled into the town house in St. James’s Square, influenza had begun to rage through Town, and he’d used that excuse to postpone her debut again and again.

Once she was presented at Court, he curtailed her social life, refusing countless invitations. She could attend only the most exclusive affairs, among only the highest of the haut ton. She was not nineteen, and relegated to the stuffiest of stuffy parties.

Hyacinth hadn’t complained. She never did. But Cassandra could read between the lines of her letters, and the last note from Lady Charles Ancaster, their aunt Julia, had only hastened Cassandra’s return from France.

She’d hardly arrived when her brother Augustus’s wife, Mary, fell ill, and Cassandra had gone to Hertfordshire to help look after her and manage the family. She’d no sooner returned to London than she needed to deal with Owsley’s sanctimonious drivel.

“Mr. Owsley invited the public,” she said. “I spoke because somebody needed to point out—in simple terms, in public—his duplicity.” The papers would report the to-do at the lecture hall. Among other things, this would attract the attention of eating houses, transport companies, and others whose businesses would suffer. With them in an uproar, the bill was doomed, she hoped.

“Papa, he lectures about pious behavior and claims to be helping the poor while his bill actively seeks to increase their misery.”

“The Sabbath bill—or any other bill, for that matter—is not the issue,” her father said. “You are not a member of Parliament. You’re a young lady. Episodes like these will make you unmarriageable.”

“For having an opinion? For caring about more than what frock to wear?”

“There are other ways to care, as I have told you time and again. If your little social club isn’t enough for you, you’ve scores of other ladies’ charities to choose from.”

As though she’d never lifted a finger to help those in need. How many fêtes and fairs and other fund-raising events had she been part of since she left the nursery? Hadn’t she joined the Andromeda Society—her “little social club”—precisely because the others weren’t enough?

“That is the way a lady offers service,” Papa said. “Not standing up at a public event and quoting from the radical journals.”

“But you have quoted from Figaro—”

“How many different ways must I say this?” he said. “It is not the belief. It is not the caring. It is not the journal. It is the standing up in public and making a spectacle of yourself.”

It was her refusal to be silent, in other words.

He went on, “I had hoped this time you’d returned from your travels with greater maturity and patience. I had hoped your efforts with Mary signified a change. But you seem determined to make a harridan of yourself, and place yourself beyond any possibility of marriage.”

Uh-oh. Cassandra saw a chasm yawning before her. Her father was a wily politician. She said cautiously, calmly, “I am unable to see the wisdom of changing my character in order to please a man.”

“Not your character. Your behavior. Can you not see the difference?”

“I know I cannot pretend to be somebody I am not.”

He stopped pacing and looked from her to Hyacinth and back again. He drew a deep breath and let it out. “Very well,” he said in milder tones. “Do as you like. You always do. But.”

He paused and bent his head and appeared to study the floor.

Cassandra and Hyacinth exchanged glances. The word but uttered in that particular tone, followed by the pause and the bowed head, was famous. On several occasions it had preceded the death and burial of a piece of legislation. It had led to the untimely demise of four political careers. It had made the previous King cry more times than anybody could count.

“But,” Papa said, “be aware that I am unable to see the wisdom of continuing Hyacinth’s Season if you are going to undermine it.”

“Undermine—”

“Your behavior reflects on her, on all of us. You came out years ago, and you’re still unwed. You do as you please, with no checks on your