Their father had not found it necessary to raise them or educate them as other English girls.
They’d never had a nanny or a governess.
In fact, one could claim the Drake girls had run wild.
Now, that wildness, once so enjoyed by all of them, was a serious hindrance. The English didn’t like wild in their women.
“Look Felicity,” said Augusta, Gus to anyone she liked, and the youngest. “This is all nonsense. We needn’t marry. We needn’t give in. Why don’t we all just live here in solidarity and tell the world to sod off?”
Felicity resisted the urge to cover her eyes with her hands. Gus was quite a bluestocking, well they all were in their own ways, but Gus was the most rebellious. The most outrageous. “If you don’t way to marry Gus, you don’t have to. But the rest of us would like husbands and children.”
Gus blinked her shockingly blue eyes. “Why?”
Penelope laughed, her dark curls bouncing. “I for one, don’t plan on sleeping alone for the rest of my life, you know.”
“And I quite liked society, the balls and all that,” admitted Marianne. “Can’t have that, banished up here in Yorkshire. You might like striding about the moors, Gus, but all that wind whipping and wailing by the rocks, isn’t for me.”
Gus scowled. “I don’t wail.”
Felicity rolled her eyes. “My dear sisters, you miss the point entirely. We must find some sort of footing in society or we face growing mold here in this old house, or we might as well all join Papa in Venice.”
All of her sisters gave a visible shudder.
It wasn’t that their father, Victor Drake, Earl of Penworth, was a terrible man. Quite the opposite. He was capable of noble acts. But he was also a drunkard and given to shouting and bringing women home at all hours.
Up until one year ago, he’d been the most celebrated and feted poet in London. Then it had all gone horribly wrong.
Frankly, Felicity couldn’t blame Lady Anne, the countess, for throwing their father to the wolves.
He never should have married such a mouse of a woman. But she’d had the money he needed and he’d been desperate.
Poor Anne.
Poor them!
Felicity cleared her throat. “As much as I’d like to believe we could reenter society entirely on our own, I know this would be impossible. We’re perilously close to being social pariahs. We need backing. We need support.”
“We need a swift kick in the bum and a realization that society is the devil,” intoned Gus.
“Yes, thank you Augusta,” replied Felicity, her fingers itching to strangle her sister. “But as discussed before, we have made a pact that we will all find husbands—“
“Or lovers,” chirped Augusta, clearly loving her role as troublemaker.
“Not lovers!” shouted Penelope, her brow furrowing. “That would make matters worse for all of us!”
Felicity threw up her hands. “We will all make advantageous marriages which will ultimately give us freedom. Being a spinster is not very freeing. You know this Augusta.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not going to beg some proper man to save me,” Augusta protested.
Felicity sighed. Had she ever been that young? At twenty-two, she felt ancient which, of course, she wasn’t but she was a good deal more mature than Augusta’s eighteen years. “None of us are going to beg. But we will use any means necessary.”
“Including entrapment,” piped Georgiana with a dangerous glimmer in her eyes.
Felicity shifted uncomfortably on her chair. She didn’t particularly care for the idea of entrapment but she wasn’t going to tell her sister no. They were in dire straits.
“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” she hedged, “but in the meantime, I have sought out help.”
“Help?” queried Marianne.
“Who would help us?” demanded Georgiana, who had been the closest to their father and the most inclined to follow in his poetic footsteps though, at present, she was quiet about it.
Felicity knew George was the most resentful of their father’s flight.
Felicity stood and strode slowly over to the door which led into a small, adjoining room. Taking her courage in hand, she opened it. “Sisters, Lady Melbourne, The Viscountess of Ashbury.”
The girls grew immediately quiet.
Lady Melbourne strolled into the room.
Her golden turban, adorned with peacock feathers, glinted in the otherwise dreary house. Her gown, rich sea green, shone with expense, and her beautiful ivory skin seemed to glow despite her advanced years.
Quite simply, Lady Melbourne was one of the most powerful women in society and she was a great admirer of their father. . . She was also Lady Anne’s aunt.
She strode in, her cane gripped firmly in one beautifully smooth hand.
Years ago, she’d been wounded in a wild riding accident and had never been able to walk unsupported since.
Imperious as a queen, she strode to the fireplace, pulled on the bell pull and quietly waited.
Ambrose, their butler, entered followed by a footman. Each carried a large silver tray with buckets of champagne and caviar.
The girls all gaped.
Such fare had been unavailable to them since their father’s departure and Lady Anne’s defection to her mother.
The money which was theirs upon marriage was untouchable and so they had been living in genteel poverty these last months.
As Ambrose poured out six glasses, Lady Melbourne arched a silvery-blonde brow.
“Dear girls,” she drawled. “You have all been cast down by a family member of mine, not entirely through her own fault, but by her firm conviction she could change your father. Your father is a bastard. An absolute bastard. But a glorious bastard. He is a god among men and I find I cannot allow you all to suffer because he cannot act as mortals must. So, I will take you in hand and marry you all off, ensuring your position in society.”
Gus folded her arms across her pert bosom while Marianne, Georgiana, and Penelope grinned.
Felicity felt a wave of relief.
She’d written to Lady Melbourne two weeks ago asking for advice.
Within a week, she’d received a message delivered by a liveried footman.
Lady Melbourne was coming and she was coming with a plan.
Ambrose and the footman passed out the glasses.
Lady Melbourne raised hers. “It shall not be easy and you must do exactly as I say. But despite your reputations, I promise that by the end of the Season, you each will have found a husband, and you will all be ensconced as leaders of the ton. What say you?”
“Huzzah!” said Penelope.
“Yes, General,” replied Georgiana with a mock salute which led to a laugh from Lady Melbourne.
Marianne nodded enthusiastically.
Gus narrowed her eyes. “I’m not marrying some boring old toff.”
Lady Melbourne raked her eyes up and down Gus then pronounced, “Dear girl, no boring old toff would have you, impertinent thing that you are.”
Gus blushed.
Felicity bit back a laugh.
She loved her younger sister but it was nice to see someone who wouldn’t put up with her unabashed silliness.
“And you, Felicity?” Lady Melbourne asked. “You’ve organized your little Scandalous Daughters Society. What do you say?”
She lifted her own glass and smiled, “When do we start?”
Chapter 2
Lord William Marksborough, Marquess of Talbot, loathed balls. He hated the posturing. The overheating. The mothers and their sheep-brained daughters. But most of all he hated squiring his sister to such dos.
Surely, one day, some day, any day soon, his sister would find a proper husband. She’d been proposed to five times. Between her and William, they’d rejected the prospects. His sister wasn’t going to marry just any fool. Of that he was sure. She needn’t cast herself away on a bad match and he’d seen too many bad matches to let his sister throw herself away.