Page 34 of A Game of Scandal

“I must say,” Mother piped up brightly, “that’s a fetching gown, Felicity. You’ve grown even prettier since I last saw you.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying my best to match her tone. “The Dowager Countess Wynter recently told me I looked like you, so I think that’s a compliment to us both.”

Mother laughed, pleased. “I always liked Lady Wynter. She used to terrify us all. One never knew what she was going to say next. I remember” – a dreamy look flitted across her face – “that when I was at the Simpsons’ ball there was the most tremendous scene when she was particularly withering about Lady Simpson’s gown. My friends and I had to hide our giggles behind our fans.” Her smile widened. “I had so much fun during my season. And now I finally get to share that with my own daughter! I’ve dreamed of this since you were a baby. It’s why I couldn’t wait to arrive,” she said, clapping in delight. “I know we said we’d wait, but there are already some social events beginning to take place, and who knows, darling? You might meet your future husband at any of them!”

I could feel Izzy’s sympathy from across the table.

My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. I was torn. Hearing how much it meant to my mother to share her daughter’s first season, the excitement and obvious pleasure she felt, followed at once by the news of imminent parties and husband hunting… I longed to connect with her, but it seemed it would never be possible in a way that would please us both.

“I’m glad you’re here,” was what I settled on. Not exactly a lie; not exactly the truth.

Mother’s smile widened further. “And we can go shopping! Even buried away in the country, I’ve heard about this Madame Solange who is taking London by storm. I want a whole new wardrobe to take home with me.”

“Madame Solange is wonderful,” Izzy agreed, sipping her tea. “I thought you might like to visit her shop and I took the liberty of making you both an appointment for this afternoon.”

I repressed a groan at the thought. Mother, however, looked delighted. “Oh, Isobel, how thoughtful! But won’t you be joining us?”

“I’m afraid I have several appointments today,” Izzy said apologetically. “And Max has bought me more gowns than I know what to do with. If I went with you, I’m certain I’d end up coming home with more, and soon every cupboard in the house would be bursting.”

“He enjoys spoiling you,” Mother said, satisfied. “As a husband should. Felicity, you have that to look forward to.”

I scowled. “I wouldn’t want to be spoiled, like a child.”

“Oh?” Mother’s eyes glimmered dangerously. “So you have given some thought to the matter? Tell us, Felicity, what do you want in a potential husband?”

It was a neat trap, and I was able to admire it, even as my mind flashed to a certain piratical figure whose kiss had discombobulated me more than an actual bomb. I pushed the image firmly aside.

“Well, for a start, he has to understand Newtonian kinematics,” I said as serenely as possible. “And I would prefer that he have a firm grasp of Poincaré’s qualitative theory of differential equations.”

Izzy laughed, but Mother only nodded wisely. “A man must have a quick brain to keep up with my daughter,” she said, and for a moment I thought there was even a note of pride in her voice.

“There are six or seven possible candidates on my list who should fit the bill,” she continued.

“Your … list?” I asked, the word coming out more sharply than I had intended.

Mother’s nod was solemn. “Well, of course there’s a list,” she said. “We’re not approaching this carelessly. One must have a rigorous system in place when it comes to such important decisions.”

I felt as though I was trapped in some strange nightmare. Lists, systems. For once my mother was speaking the same language as me – only because she wanted to marry me off. My head was aching again.

Before I could say anything, my mother leaned forward, her gaze intent on mine. “I know I’ve left too much of your upbringing to your brother, that I haven’t always been the best mother to you, but here I can be useful. I am going to do this for you, Felicity. I’m going to give you a perfect season and find you a perfect husband.”

“But perhaps…” I began, hating how tentative I sounded. “Perhaps I shan’t find a husband. I mean, perhaps there isn’t a suitable match for me.”

“Nonsense,” Mother said briskly. “I know you’re a tad late in coming out – I let your brother persuade me on that. And you’ve always been an … unusual child. Still,” Mother sailed on, “you’re a bright, beautiful young woman with an extremely healthy inheritance. You’ll have your pick of them. We’ll find you a clever, handsome man who will take care of you.”

She beamed at me, delighted that I would be able to choose my own destiny – as long as that destiny was as a wife and a mother. As long as I left my brother’s house for another man’s and traded one place where I didn’t quite fit for another. As long as there was someone to take care of me.

“And we’ll begin the hunt tonight!” she continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I’ve already secured us invitations to Lady Wellerby’s ball.”

“A ball?” I said, unable to disguise the horror in my voice, so that the word sounded synonymous with a tooth-pulling.

“Only a small get-together,” Mother carried on, her enthusiasm undimmed by my response.

“Your Grace,” Wheeler interrupted then, all apologies. “You asked me to let you know at once if you received any correspondence.” He carried a note on a silver platter round to Izzy’s side of the table.

“Is it from Max?” Mother asked.

“No,” Izzy said, breaking the seal on the note, which I recognized as Mrs Finch’s stationery. “It’s from the friend I’m due to see today.” She scanned the note and stood. “In fact, she needs to meet a touch earlier. I do apologize.”