Free Miss Fellingham's Rebellion by Lynn Messina - Miss Fellingham's Rebellion Page B

occurs to me that I can’t remember the last time you and I went shopping together. What have you been wearing these last six years?”
    “But I’m not—” she protested, trying to assure her mother that the Marquess of Deverill would not be squiring her around, but she did it with only half a heart, and when her mother interrupted, she didn’t really mind.
    “I think we shall go to Madam Bonnard. She has made some excellent dresses of late for Evelyn. She has a very good sense of style, and simply everyone frequents her,” Lady Fellingham said. “She’s the height of fashion. You can’t wear white like Evelyn, but I think some nice pastels will look very well on you. I’ve always thought you looked best in pastels. But I’m sure I’ve told you that before.”
    As Catherine sat there clutching her fork, she felt as though she were being seduced by some dark demon. It had been years and years since anyone cared if her dresses were the height of fashion—since her first season, in fact. When it had become clear that her eldest daughter wasn’t going to take, Lady Fellingham lost interest in her. The casual indifference with which her mother treated her hurt Catherine, of course, but it also gave her the freedom to do the things she enjoyed, like reading and going to museums and taking long strolls in the park.
    Now it was all starting again, and Catherine could feel herself getting caught up in the excitement. She knew she should tread carefully, but she couldn’t help wondering if this time it could be different. She was older and, as her mother liked to remind her, more mature. Surely she could handle herself better and not be so overwhelmed and bewildered by the social whirl. Lady Courtland believed Deverill’s attentions alone would make her fashionable. What if it was true? How would the beau monde appear when she looked at it from the top, rather than from the bottom? Perhaps the very act of being popular would make her feel popular, which could have the beneficial effect of putting her at ease and letting some of her personality shine through. Under those circumstances, she might very well meet a man she could love.
    Love was not an emotion she allowed herself to think about very often, for she knew it to be elusive and hard to sustain. Her own parents’ marriage was a mystery to her, and she could understand nothing of it except that it was a prime example of how spending a lifetime with the wrong person was worse than spending it alone. For this reason, she’d never really minded her unattached state.
    Having thought the matter through, Catherine decided that a few new dresses would be just the thing. Only they reminded her of another plan she meant to implement. “I would like some new gowns. Thank you,” she said. Then after a moment of silence she plunged ahead. “Mama, it occurs to me that perhaps you would like some help with the books.”
    Lady Fellingham, in the process of bringing a kipper to her lips, looked quite puzzled by this statement. She stared at her daughter blankly.
    “Perhaps you would not be forced to come up with any more…um, excellent plans if you have help with the family finances,” she explained.
    For a moment Catherine feared that she had angered her mother beyond repair, for her face turned such a deep shade of red. But then she said, “Aren’t you a good daughter? I appreciate the offer, of course, but I can manage tolerably well on my own.”
    “I’m only thinking of you, dearest Mama,” she said tactfully. “It is a burden you carry alone and I would be glad in any way to help alleviate it.”
    Lady Fellingham’s cheeks slowly returned to their normal shade, and she seemed to be considering the offer with real interest. “Perhaps you can help,” she admitted, laying down her fork. “It is an awful burden being the only one who knows how expensive candles are and how it tortures me to watch them burn down as if they were wood in the fireplace, which no