frequently and taught me much. I have also had the assistance of Lady Arbuthnott, who knows everyone. So you must not hand me all the credit. I am well aware you gave me the task of launching Claudia as a remedy for my melancholy. And it was kind of you. Truly it was."
Sir Thomas grunted in surprise. "As I recall, I merely asked you to accompany Claudia to a soiree one evening. You took charge from there. You made her one of your projects. And whenever you are involved in a project, my dear, things have a way of happening."
"Thank you, Uncle Thomas. But about Graystone. I must insist—"
"Now, don't you worry about Graystone. As I said, he'll make you a sound husband. Man's solid as a rock. Got brains and a fortune. What more could a woman want?"
"Uncle Thomas, you don't understand."
"You're just feeling a bit emotional at the moment, that's all. The Northumberland side of the family always was emotional."
Augusta stared at her uncle in seething frustration and then she rushed from the room before she burst into tears.
Augusta was still simmering with frustration later that evening as she dressed for the night's array of soirees and parties. But at least she was no longer on the point of tears, she told herself with pride. This was a crisis that called for action, not emotion.
Claudia studied Augusta's scowl with gentle concern. Then, with a naturally graceful gesture, she poured two cups of tea and offered one to her cousin with a soothing smile. "Calm yourself, Augusta. All will be well."
"How the devil can all be well when such a dreadful mistake has been made? Dear God, Claudia, don't you understand? Disaster is upon us. Uncle Thomas got so excited he went ahead and sent the notices off to the papers. By tomorrow morning Graystone and I shall be officially engaged. There will be no honorable way for him to get out of the arrangement once the news is in print."
"I understand."
"Then how can you sit there pouring tea as if nothing has happened?" Augusta slammed her cup and saucer down and shot to her feet. She whirled about and began striding back and forth across the width of her bedchamber. Her dark brows were drawn together above her narrowed eyes.
For once Augusta was hardly aware of what she was wearing. Her mind had been in such turmoil that she had been unable to concentrate on the usually pleasant task of choosing her attire. Her maid Betsy had selected the rose-colored evening gown with its daringly cut neckline edged with tiny satin roses. It was Betsy who had chosen the matching satin slippers and elbow-length gloves. And it was Betsy who had decided to dress Augusta's dark chestnut brown hair in the Grecian style. The cascading ringlets bobbed about wildly as Augusta stalked back and forth.
"I fail to see the problem," Claudia murmured. "I had the impression you were growing rather fond of Graystone."
"That is simply not true."
"Come, now, Augusta. Even Papa noticed your interest in the earl and remarked upon it just the other day."
"I asked to read a copy of one of Graystone's recent treatises on some moldering old Roman, that's all. You can hardly call that a sign of deep fondness."
"Well, be that as it may, I am not surprised Papa went ahead and accepted Graystone's offer on your behalf. He assumed you would be delighted, as indeed you should be. It is a wonderful match, Augusta. You cannot deny it."
Augusta stopped pacing long enough to give her cousin an anguished glance. "But don't you see, Claudia? 'Tis all a
mistake
. Graystone would never have asked for my hand in marriage. Never in a million years. He thinks me a terrible hoyden, an unruly scapegrace who is always one step away from falling into a scandal broth. To him I am an ungovernable little baggage. In his eyes I would make a most unsuitable countess. And he is quite right."
"Nonsense. You would make a lovely countess," Claudia said loyally.
"Thank you." Augusta groaned in frustrated annoyance. "But you are quite wrong.
Sir Thomas grunted in surprise. "As I recall, I merely asked you to accompany Claudia to a soiree one evening. You took charge from there. You made her one of your projects. And whenever you are involved in a project, my dear, things have a way of happening."
"Thank you, Uncle Thomas. But about Graystone. I must insist—"
"Now, don't you worry about Graystone. As I said, he'll make you a sound husband. Man's solid as a rock. Got brains and a fortune. What more could a woman want?"
"Uncle Thomas, you don't understand."
"You're just feeling a bit emotional at the moment, that's all. The Northumberland side of the family always was emotional."
Augusta stared at her uncle in seething frustration and then she rushed from the room before she burst into tears.
Augusta was still simmering with frustration later that evening as she dressed for the night's array of soirees and parties. But at least she was no longer on the point of tears, she told herself with pride. This was a crisis that called for action, not emotion.
Claudia studied Augusta's scowl with gentle concern. Then, with a naturally graceful gesture, she poured two cups of tea and offered one to her cousin with a soothing smile. "Calm yourself, Augusta. All will be well."
"How the devil can all be well when such a dreadful mistake has been made? Dear God, Claudia, don't you understand? Disaster is upon us. Uncle Thomas got so excited he went ahead and sent the notices off to the papers. By tomorrow morning Graystone and I shall be officially engaged. There will be no honorable way for him to get out of the arrangement once the news is in print."
"I understand."
"Then how can you sit there pouring tea as if nothing has happened?" Augusta slammed her cup and saucer down and shot to her feet. She whirled about and began striding back and forth across the width of her bedchamber. Her dark brows were drawn together above her narrowed eyes.
For once Augusta was hardly aware of what she was wearing. Her mind had been in such turmoil that she had been unable to concentrate on the usually pleasant task of choosing her attire. Her maid Betsy had selected the rose-colored evening gown with its daringly cut neckline edged with tiny satin roses. It was Betsy who had chosen the matching satin slippers and elbow-length gloves. And it was Betsy who had decided to dress Augusta's dark chestnut brown hair in the Grecian style. The cascading ringlets bobbed about wildly as Augusta stalked back and forth.
"I fail to see the problem," Claudia murmured. "I had the impression you were growing rather fond of Graystone."
"That is simply not true."
"Come, now, Augusta. Even Papa noticed your interest in the earl and remarked upon it just the other day."
"I asked to read a copy of one of Graystone's recent treatises on some moldering old Roman, that's all. You can hardly call that a sign of deep fondness."
"Well, be that as it may, I am not surprised Papa went ahead and accepted Graystone's offer on your behalf. He assumed you would be delighted, as indeed you should be. It is a wonderful match, Augusta. You cannot deny it."
Augusta stopped pacing long enough to give her cousin an anguished glance. "But don't you see, Claudia? 'Tis all a
mistake
. Graystone would never have asked for my hand in marriage. Never in a million years. He thinks me a terrible hoyden, an unruly scapegrace who is always one step away from falling into a scandal broth. To him I am an ungovernable little baggage. In his eyes I would make a most unsuitable countess. And he is quite right."
"Nonsense. You would make a lovely countess," Claudia said loyally.
"Thank you." Augusta groaned in frustrated annoyance. "But you are quite wrong.
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