themselves with…with these matters.”
Caroline sighed. “What do ladies do all day?”
Taking her charge’s interest as a good sign, her governess smiled. “They manage their husband’s household, bear his children and uphold the family name with all the graces and decorum befitting a lady of their station.”
Caroline could not deny that that sounded dreadfully meaningless. Indeed, her mother did spend her days shopping, visiting and socializing, always concerned about their family’s standing within society. As Caroline’s father had not been born into the peerage, her parents fought every day to get closer to that illustrious circle, to be accepted by it, to elevate themselves.
Often did her mother dream of the wonderful future awaiting them. She spoke with delight about Caroline’s chances to win the attentions of a peer, certain her daughter would be a lady one day.
Caroline’s lips thinned. Well, if that was the case, if married women were restricted to home and family, then she would simply not marry.
It was as simple as that, wasn’t it?
Of course, her mother wouldn’t be happy. In fact, she’d be furious with her above all. Perhaps, one could find a way around it though.
All Caroline needed was a plan.
Chapter One
A Clever Woman
London, summer 1812
Seven Years Later
Seated in Lady Brockton’s lavish drawing room, Caroline pushed the thick spectacles higher up her nose as she bent over the fine embroidery in her hands.
“I must commend you on your diligence, my dear Miss Hawkins,” Lady Brockton remarked, a kind smile upon her wrinkled face. “Please, take a short reprieve if your eyes are plaguing you.” She glanced at her own work. “It is, indeed, a strenuous activity at times.”
“You’re too kind, Lady Brockton,” Caroline trilled, blinking her eyes behind the thick glasses that hindered rather than improved her eyesight. “Some days, it is most taxing. However, I do so enjoy your company.”
A delighted murmur went through the small circle of women seated in Lady Brockton’s drawing room, and Caroline found more than one smile cast her way. Their little needlepoint circle met thrice a week at Lady Brockton’s townhouse as her drawing room housed them easily. All of the women here were either married or widowed, with children grown, and time on their hands. Caroline was the only unmarried, young woman among them. She’d gained their favor and entrance into their exclusive little circle through an elaborate plan that had been years in the making.
Dressed in yet another colorless, grey-blue frock, Caroline sat next to Lady Prambling and Lady Woodward. Her golden-brown tresses had been pulled back into a severe-looking chignon and treated with a special powder that robbed them of their natural glow. On her nose rested a pair of spectacles that dulled her blue eyes and made her seem bookish and unappealing.
A perfect getup as far as Caroline was concerned.
“I spoke to my husband about making a donation,” Lady Prambling told Caroline as her hands guided the needle through the fabric, her eyes as sharp as ever. “You were very right, my dear Miss Hawkins. Considering our good fortune, it is only right we give something back to those less fortunate.”
“Oh, I’m grateful my words encouraged you, Lady Prambling,” Caroline praised loudly. “However, it was no doubt the kind and generous heart in your chest that made this decision. You’re truly an inspiration to us all.”
Listening intently, the other ladies chimed in, offering their approval and admiration. In turn, Lady Prambling beamed with pride.
Caroline congratulated herself.
Considered one of them, she was in the perfect position to influence these women; women who possessed large fortunes and great influence among the ton. What they deemed right and honorable, others strove to emulate.
“I’m afraid there is no point in continuing,” Caroline lamented with feigned sadness, pinching the bridge of her nose as she blinked her eyes fervently. “I can barely see the stitches.”
Lady Brockton sighed with regret. “I do hope you’ll be fit to join us again next week, my dear.”
“I hope so as well.” Caroline smiled kindly as she packed up her small embroidery frame. Then she took her leave, relieved to pull the spectacles off her nose once she’d stepped out into the large hall.
Instantly, her eyes cleared and the throbbing pain in her temple lessened. She allowed her gaze to linger here and there, reveling in the unblurred images.
“Are you ready to leave, Miss?”
Turning to Sarah, Caroline nodded, then handed her embroidery bag to her lady’s maid. “I’m afraid my eyesight is particularly poor today,” she said with a deep sigh for all potentially nearby