on the list. He was such a mix of sensibilities. He loved them, Beatrice knew that without a doubt, but he was so attuned to business that he hated to see an opportunity pass him by.
“And there is a new addition to the list, Lord Jessup Pennistan,” Papa said as he shook his head, a confused frown replacing his usual certainty. It was so rare an expression that Beatrice leaned closer so as not to miss a word.
“Lord Jessup has nothing to recommend him except that he is the son and brother of a duke. He has been involved in several tawdry incidents which I will not even discuss with gently bred girls, and his main occupation is gaming.”
Never mind the gambling, Beatrice thought, it was the “tawdry incidents” that intrigued her.
“Why, Papa,” Beatrice said, recalling where she had heard Lord Jessup’s name before, “he is the one who came with Ellis when you called him home from London, is he not? I never met him but I recall that Ell could talk of nothing but what a fine fellow he was.”
“Being called ‘fine’ by a man not yet twenty-two carries no weight with me. Have nothing to do with him,” her father said with his sternest expression, “but I want you both to consider all the other gentlemen carefully. Even Lord Belmont. It would be most excellent if one or, praise God, both of you made a match here. Men who would be willing to invest in the mills and the canals and even consider the new train engines under discussion would be even better.”
“No, Papa,” Beatrice said firmly, even as Cecilia nodded. “We are not here to be bought and sold like two bolts of cloth. We are here to see how the ton suits us and if we would like a full Season in London.”
“That’s what the countess said, but I am also sure she agrees with me.”
“No, she does not,” Beatrice insisted. Cecilia gasped at her boldness.
“Beatrice!” her father snapped. “Now is not the time for one of your battles for independence. You will go into this house party with an open mind and make a good match.”
It was such an absurd statement that Beatrice laughed. She could not help it, even though she knew it would infuriate her father.
“Papa,” Cecilia interrupted, ever the peacemaker. “Please do not upset Beatrice. You know how splotchy her complexion becomes when she loses her temper. And we both want to look our best.”
“Yes, very well,” her father said, grabbing at the peace offering. His daughters made to curtsy but he gave each one a crushing hug instead, whispering to Beatrice, “Find someone and be engaged before this is over.”
Beatrice stared at the closing door, gritting her teeth and doing her best to control her temper. She would make sure that Cecilia was distracted and then she was going to see Roger. If he agreed, she would be able to silence her father once and for all. She seethed all the way back to their suite, a plan forming in her head.
When they were in their sitting room with the footman on the other side of the door, Beatrice gathered up the dresses and went through the bedchamber into the dressing room, Cecilia following, just as she’d hoped. “What are you doing, Bitsy? I have not finished deciding what to wear.”
Inside the narrow space, their new maid was putting away the rest of their things, but she stopped the moment they came to the door.
“Darwell,” Beatrice began, “we want to know what dresses to wear and how to wear them to our best advantage. We need your advice.”
“Advice, Miss Brent?” the maid asked, with a hauteur that was somehow reassuring.
“Yes, exactly. Cecilia had hoped to devise a list before we left Birmingham, but the gowns arrived too late. I think it is a blessing in disguise, as your advice is just what she needs.”
The woman had such a superior demeanor that Beatrice was half afraid she might refuse.
“If you want to prepare a dressing plan, Miss Cecilia, I would be delighted to help you both.”
“Yes, if you please.” Cecilia was so meek that even Darwell shook her head.
“You never need to say please to me, miss. I work for you.”
Cecilia gave an uncertain nod and followed Darwell into the dressing room.
Perfect, Beatrice thought. She forced herself to walk away slowly despite wanting to run, patted her pocket to be sure she had her spectacles, and was at the door to