Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3) by Mary Kingswood Read Free Book Online

as if he were just as good as anyone else.”
    “But who are the two women with him?” Dulcie said.
    The older woman, with a smirk of self-satisfaction on her face, was dressed in an expensive but unfashionable style, with an excessively ugly turban on her head. On Jack Barnett’s other side, her head drooping as if to avoid notice, was a girl who looked to be no more than sixteen, dressed in the plain white of a debutante.
    As they watched, the little group stepped forward, and the master of ceremonies intoned, “Mrs Algernon Barnett, Mr Jack Barnett, Miss Barnett.”
    Belle groaned audibly. “He has a sister! ”

5: Ambition
    A sister! How many more of them might be lurking at home waiting their turn to parade themselves in public, as if they had not the stain of illegitimacy about them.
    Barnett’s eye fell on their group, still standing in shocked silence just inside the room. His smug grin widened.
    “Why, if it isn’t Belle! How are you, sister? And Burford, my friend — how pleasant to meet you again! And this must be Lady Sara. How do you do, madam. I have heard such a great deal about you.”
    Lady Sara looked him up and down with aristocratic hauteur. Without a word, she spun on her heel to turn her back on him. “Come, girls,” she said, walking away without haste. It was magnificent, and in that moment Connie was completely in charity with her mother. Barnett’s expression darkened, but he recovered admirably, and as she followed her mother, Connie’s last view of him before he was swallowed by the throng saw the smirk fully restored.
    As they reached a less crowded  part of the room, Lady Sara turned to her daughters. “You will none of you speak to them, or have anything at all to do with them,” she said. “Amy, you will of course be guided by Ambleside, but I hope that, for my sake, you will cut them.”
    “Of course, Mama,” Amy said. “Oh, I wish they had not come!”
    “So must we all,” her mother said. “However, these assemblies are public affairs, and anyone may pay to attend, even such people as that. Dressed up like their betters, they look almost respectable.”
    “I will go and see what I may find out about them,” Ambleside said. He returned no more than ten minutes later. “It is being put about that the mother is the widow of a man in trade, which may be true for all I can tell. The son has two thousand a year, and the daughter a portion of three thousand. And there is another daughter, still in the schoolroom.”
    “Two thousand a year?” Burford said. “I find that unlikely. Having seen the late Mr Allamont’s will and talked to Mr Plumphett, I have a very fair idea of Jack Barnett’s income. I would put it at fourteen hundred at best, if he invests wisely and conserves his capital, and he does not strike me as the sort to manage either of those.”
    Connie tried to put the Barnetts from her mind and enjoy the evening as best she may. She found herself an object to the two brothers from High Frickham, who arrived at her side squabbling over which of them should have the right to ask her to dance first. Since they were identical twins and she had never been able to tell them apart, she had no particular interest in the outcome. Thus she was rather relieved than disappointed when Alex Drummond materialised at her side and carried her off to the dance floor while they were still arguing. The twins watched her go, open-mouthed.
    From then on, Connie was in continual demand. After Mr Drummond, she danced with Sir Osborne Hardy, who was an excellent dancer, and then his friend Daniel Merton, who was less so, although not so bad as Grace for turning the wrong way. By that time, the Marquess and Lady Harriet had arrived, and Connie was gratified to be the Marquess’s first choice of dancing partner.
    Mindful of her plan to make him fall in love with her, she said, “Do you enjoy poetry, my lord?”
    “Of course,” he said. “Everyone likes poetry, I believe. I find