Sixteen Scandals - Sophie Jordan Page 0,2

was considered excessive. Unless it was Mama doing the shouting, of course.

Papa lowered the paper with a mild grunt, peering at Prim and Mama blandly through his spectacles. “Yes, m’dears?”

“I’m ten and six, Papa. Today,” she said, putting weight on the final word, hoping it would affect him in some way. She knew she could not reach her mother. Papa was her only hope. “Mama says I must wait to come out at least another year.”

Prim held her breath, searching his face, hoping Papa might intervene on her behalf.

Mama took a crunchy bite of toast and spoke with great agitation through a mouthful, bits of crumbs flying from her lips. “Do not try to appeal to your father. It will do no good. He and I are in accord on this. I’ll not have two daughters competing for suitors again. Aster is enough of an ordeal on her own.” She shuddered and took another angry bite.

Primrose shook her head, bewildered. Most assuredly, Mama had made her mind up long ago. She had simply not seen fit to inform Prim. If only she had told Prim this months ago, weeks even, then she would not now face such crushing disappointment . . . and such a keen sense of betrayal at this moment.

Mama went on, “Once Aster is betrothed, you will then have your turn, Primrose.”

Prim’s shoulders slumped.

When her mother said it like that, it sounded so annoyingly reasonable.

Last born, last daughter remembered.

Mama choosing Aster over Prim was nothing out of the ordinary. Mama was always choosing one of her three elder daughters over Prim. It was the condition of her life.

Papa nodded. “A sound plan, Primrose. I am certain you see the sense in that. Once Aster is betrothed, you will have your mother’s most dedicated attentions on you.”

Truth be told, to be out in Society without Mama’s full attention sounded like a blessing, but Prim dared not say that.

As she slumped in her chair, Aster and Violet entered the room and made their way to the sideboard, where breakfast awaited their selection.

Aster and Violet bore the same coloring, with their deep chestnut hair and milk-and-roses complexions, but there the similarity ended.

Violet was curvaceous and moved as gracefully as a floating snowflake. Many a suitor had written odes to her grace and beauty. She received no fewer than four proposals during her first season, and three in her second, but Violet had waited, claiming a bigger and better fish was coming. That fish had arrived in her third season in the form of Redding. She had finally accepted him, to Mama’s great joy.

Contrariwise, Aster was somewhat boxlike. She did not float when she walked like Violet. Rather, she charged ahead with jarring steps as though in a rush to reach her destination. Mama once claimed she was shaped like a tree stump—this was after a frustrating morning spent at the dressmaker’s when nothing poor Aster tried on appeased Mama.

Violet seated herself first.

Aster soon followed, her plate piled high with food, quite ready to enjoy her meal.

Mama frowned. “Aster, what have I said about daintier, ladylike portions?”

Aster shrugged and took a bite of her kipper with an almost defiant air. She didn’t care. She enjoyed food and ate with gusto.

Prim sat in silence as the conversation moved from tonight’s diversion to events beyond that, namely Violet’s upcoming wedding.

“And what are your plans for the day, Primrose?” Mama asked, finally turning her attention back to her youngest daughter.

She looked up warily at the question, feeling as though she were facing a firing squad. The inquiry felt like a trap. Since Prim was not preparing for an evening out, she would be doing nothing extraordinary or particularly diverting. Mama must know that. She rarely inquired after Prim’s day, as her options were obviously limited. Prim was not allowed to leave the house without a chaperone, after all.

Most girls not yet out in Society spent their days working through their lessons with their governess. Occasionally they strolled the park or the halls of a museum. They had tutors, too, in dance or voice or pianoforte.

Not Primrose though.

Mama had deemed her finished over two years ago, around the time that Aster entered Society. Even though Prim could not carry a tune. Even though her skill at the pianoforte was abysmal.

Prim had been on her own for quite some time without a governess or tutor. There had been no dancing instructor, but Prim enjoyed dancing and was passable at it. Aster had no interest and made