Free Anne Barbour by A Man of Affairs

your wardrobe and providing food for the moths. You can very well make do with those. Now, let us hear no more about it." Lord Beckett took a large gulp of wine.
    "Papa, everyone has seen those gowns." Zoë's voice rose to an indignant squeal. "You cannot wish me to appear in last year's ensembles. I would be a laughing stock." She drew a deep breath. "I cannot believe you are being so ... so parsimonious about this. Do you not wish me to make you proud? How do you expect me to attract the most eligible young men if I'm dressed in rags?" She lifted wide, angry eyes to Eden as though for support.
    "Zoë!" exclaimed Lady Beckett helplessly, as she seemed to do so often.
    "I said," barked Lord Beckett, banging his hand on the table, "we will hear no more about it."
    Zoë jumped up from her chair, furious tears glittering in her eyes. "Yes, we will, too! Much more. For, I... want.... some ... new gowns. And I mean to have them!"
    Flushed with rage, she ran from the room, nearly knocking over her chair as she did so. In the appalled silence that followed her exit, Seth was aware that Eden's gaze had fallen to her lap. Her cheeks flamed as well, but not, he felt, with rage. He was seated across the table from her, and he knew an urge to go to her, to take her hands in his. Looking quickly away, Seth glanced at his host and hostess in some astonishment. Was it Zoë's habit to engage in such tactics to gain her own way? And were Lord and Lady Beckett in the habit of accepting such behavior?
    Evidently so, as became almost immediately obvious.
    "Oh dear," sighed Lady Beckett.
    "Unmanageable chit," muttered Lord Beckett.
    "Perhaps, dearest," said Lady Beckett after a moment, "since it seems to mean so much to her..."
    "Tchah!" was Lord Beckett's response. He added after a moment. "I'll think about it."
    Good God, thought Seth, was this the young woman he thought to present to Father as the future Marchioness of Belhaven?
    Good God, thought Eden. She was ready to sink with mortification. Not only had Zoë treated Mr. Lindow to an outrageous display of temper, but her parents had presented themselves as completely ineffectual in disciplining their youngest daughter. It did not matter, of course, what Mr. Lindow thought of her family, but to so reveal themselves to a stranger was the outside of enough.
    She glanced across the table to find Seth grinning ruefully at her. She could find no contempt in his gaze, only a smiling empathy that somehow warmed her. She supposed that the urbane Mr. Lindow must be taken aback by very little, and for this she was grateful.
    After dinner. Lord Beckett bore Mr. Lindow away for a game of billiards, leaving Lady Beckett to commiserate with her oldest daughter over the behavior of her youngest.
    "I just don't know what will become of her," moaned Lady Beckett. "She thinks to find a lord in London, or even a viscount."
    Or a duke's son, thought Eden acerbically.
    "She treats the young men hereabouts so dreadfully," continued her mother, "that I just know many of them have already turned away. If she keeps on the way she's going, she will end up without a husband, just like—"
    She caught herself, and lifted a hand to her mouth. "Oh, dearest, I did not mean—"
    Eden chuckled. "It's all right. Mama. Spinsterhood suits me, but you're right. It would not do for Zoë."
    "Mr. Lindow seems quite interested in her. Do you think... ?" Lady Beckett raised her colorless brows hopefully.
    "I doubt if Mr. Lindow would meet Zoë's criteria for a mate, even if he were to propose tomorrow." Eden was surprised at the uncomfortable twinge that snaked through her at the thought.
    Lady Beckett's shoulders sagged, but then she brightened. "But, do you not think he would do nicely for you, dearest? He is lowborn, of course, but I think perhaps we should not let that weigh with us ... in view of his, er, connections," she finished delicately.
    "What!" gasped Eden. She felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair. "Really,