Free First Season / Bride to Be by Jane Ashford

marked that it is sometimes misinterpreted.” Anabel, her attention focused on Georgina, did not see her mother’s satisfaction at this remark. “On several occasions I have seen people make more of it than he meant.”
    The girl nodded. “I can see how that would happen. One must go beyond trivialities and discover true motives.” She contemplated this a moment. “He danced with all those girls last night because they were pretty and amusing,” she went on. “He thinks I am intelligent, however. And if I were also pretty…” She pushed away her plate and stood up. “I think I will go walking in the park this morning, aunt.”
    Lady Goring, who had been suppressing a smile, blinked. She had repeatedly urged Georgina to take exercise. “Splendid, my dear. Take your maid with you.”
    Nodding, the girl went out.
    â€œWell!” said her aunt, gazing at Anabel expectantly. “What do you think of that.”
    Anabel also rose. Georgina’s reasoning had shaken her. Christopher had called her intelligent, and if the girl’s looks did improve under her new regimen, might he not possibly find the wife he desired in her? “Oh, it is all ridiculous!” she snapped, refusing to think about the implications of her feelings.
    Lady Goring’s eyes danced. “Well, I don’t care why it is happening. I am only glad that Georgina has decided to do as I asked. I had nearly given up in despair.” Savoring Anabel’s mulish expression, she added, “Georgina will be a very pretty girl indeed if she slims, don’t you think?”
    â€œDoubtless.” Anabel’s tone was curt. “I shall be in my room if you want me, Mama.” She swept out, leaving Lady Goring free to allow her pleased smile to spread across her face.
    Striding quickly up the stairs, Anabel was oblivious to everything but her own ill temper. Everyone was being so stupid. Why couldn’t Christopher behave as he always had? It was not that she begrudged him a season in London, she told herself, but he was almost certain to fall into a scrape. She was only thinking of him.
    Immersed in her excuses, Anabel did not notice two small faces peering through the stair rails on the top landing. She moved off below them toward her bedchamber, frowning, and they watched her go.
    â€œMama looks angry,” said Susan in a low voice. “Isn’t she coming up to see us before lessons? She always did at home.”
    â€œI don’t know,” answered Nicholas. “I suppose not.”
    â€œIs Uncle Christopher taking us to the play today? He promised he would.”
    Her brother sighed. This was not the first time, nor the twentieth, that Susan had asked this question. “He did not set a day. I’m sure he will do so when he has the time.”
    Susan stood, gripping the rails with her fists. “I hate it here!”
    Nick nodded heavily. “Come along to the schoolroom. We must find William and have a council.”
    William was already there, sitting at the battered schoolroom table and scowling at an open book. He looked up when they came in. “I can’t do this, Nick,” he said. “Each time I work it out, I get a different answer. You must help me again.”
    â€œIn a moment,” replied his brother absently. “Just now we must decide something.”
    â€œWhat?” The older male Wyndham turned in his chair.
    The others joined him at the ancient table. The schoolroom was a large, wide-windowed chamber near the top of the house, filled with cast-off furniture from downstairs and the discarded toys and books of generations of Gorings. It was a comfortable, unpretentious place, but it was not their schoolroom and their mother was seldom in it, so the Wyndhams disliked it.
    â€œWe must make up our minds what we are going to do,” declared Nicholas, putting his elbows on the tabletop and his chin in his