Sixteen Scandals - Sophie Jordan Page 0,4

his garments. You cannot be certain he won’t reduce your gowns to shreds on your wedding night.”

Violet slammed a hand on the table, rattling the dishes. “What rubbish! Redding can undo buttons! You’re trying to nettle me with these fabrications.”

Aster shrugged as though she could possibly be lying. She was expert at aggravating Violet, after all. Prim did not put it past her to fabricate something merely to irritate Violet.

“Aster, enough,” Mama chided and then reached for her smelling salts. “I vow, you girls will put me in an early grave.” She took a deep sniff, and then settled back in her chair, seemingly revived.

Papa harrumphed, rustling his paper. “You do understand we are expected to provide dowries for these gels?” Clearly, he was still stuck on the subject of their impending trip to Bond Street. “Dowries for the three we have left? Violet’s might have already been negotiated, but I haven’t had to pay it yet.” He swept a hand encompassing Aster, Violet, and Primrose. “Consider that as you are loading packages upon Gertie during your shopping expedition today.” With a rattle of his paper, he returned his attention to the day’s news.

As much as Papa disapproved of their shopping jaunt, Prim knew Gertie, a woman hired years ago to be the family governess, would not look forward to it more. Gertie’s governess days were over. At least in the Ainsworth household.

Gertie had ushered all four of them through lessons in Latin, French, literature, mathematics, science, history, geography, and basic comportment. Oh, and rudimentary dance, as Papa refused to pay for a dancing instructor.

That was, until two years ago. A few days prior to Prim’s fourteenth birthday, Gertie announced that she had reached the limits of her knowledge and could no longer properly instruct Primrose.

When she explained this to Prim’s parents, instead of acquiring a new governess to meet Prim’s needs, Mama declared her formal education at an end. After all, Prim had been successfully tutored in all matters of significance as far as Mama and Papa were concerned.

No one wants a wife too clever. Mama had been quick to offer that opinion then and several times since. Besides . . . she had such significant plans for Prim’s older sisters marrying well, she did not see the need to squander money on Prim.

“Mama?” Violet frowned as though suddenly struck with a thought. “Are you certain Gertie will be enough help?”

Mama had kept Gertie on to serve as a lady’s maid and companion among them. The former governess now helped with their hair and dress, served as a chaperone, and generally ran whatever errands Mama required.

“Perhaps we should drag Cook from the kitchens to carry packages, too?” Aster grumbled.

Violet glared at Aster across the table.

Aster smiled sweetly. “Is something amiss, Violent?”

Primrose lowered her head to hide her smile. Aster loved to warp Violet’s name, and Prim found it vastly entertaining.

“Aster,” Mama reprimanded, “Stop that. You know your sister’s name.” She held a finger aloft. “But you do pose a valid question. Is Gertie enough?” Her gaze narrowed in contemplation. “Perhaps we should bring a groom too.”

Primrose set her napkin on the table and pushed up to her feet. She wasn’t needed here. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Mama gave a distracted nod, her attention on Aster and Violet as she continued to strategize their shopping venture.

Prim had almost reached the doors when her mother’s voice stopped her. “Oh, and you can plan to dine with Gertie this evening. We will all be at Mrs. Simeon’s soirée and her affairs always run long. She hosts the most brilliant occasions though. No need to wait up for us.”

They would be out and Primrose left home alone. No surprise there.

“That old windbag?” Aster muttered.

“Aster!” Mama chided. “Mrs. Simeon has great influence. All the most eligible gentlemen attend her functions, and you should take heed of her. One word of endorsement from her can go very far for a young lady.”

Prim lingered. She could not help herself. Ton gossip did intrigue her. Anything that had to do with the world outside this house interested her. Naturally. She wasn’t immune to High Society’s gossip.

Papa peered around his paper. “Is my presence really required? Might I not dine with Gertie, too?”

“Mr. Ainsworth! Mrs. Simeon is cousin to the Dowager Duchess of Hampstead.” Mama practically quivered with indignation.

“And what does that have to do with my attendance at tonight’s soirée, m’dear?”

“You never know when the dowager duchess might appear at one of Mrs. Simeon’s fêtes.”

“The old dame has

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