Stepdaughters, Sophie silently corrected.
“We have every right to use Penwood House for the season. What he plans to do with the house, I’ll never know.”
“Perhaps he wishes to attend the season and look for a wife,” Sophie suggested. “He’ll be wanting an heir, I’m sure.”
Araminta scowled. “If Rosamund doesn’t marry into money, I don’t know what we’ll do. It is so difficult to find a proper house to rent. And so expensive as well.”
Sophie forbore to point out that at least Araminta didn’t have to pay for a lady’s maid. In fact, until Sophie had turned twenty, she’d received four thousand pounds per year, just for having a lady’s maid.
Araminta snapped her fingers. “Don’t forget that Rosamund will need her hair powdered.”
Rosamund was attending dressed as Marie Antoinette. Sophie had asked if she was planning to put a ring of faux blood around her neck. Rosamund had not been amused.
Araminta pulled on her dressing gown, cinching the sash with swift, tight movements. “And Posy—” Her nose wrinkled. “Well, Posy will need your help in some manner or other, I’m sure.”
“I’m always glad to help Posy,” Sophie replied.
Araminta narrowed her eyes as she tried to figure out if Sophie was being insolent. “Just see that you do,” she finally said, her syllables clipped. She stalked off to the washroom.
Sophie saluted as the door closed behind her.
“Ah, there you are, Sophie,” Rosamund said as she bustled into the room. “I need your help immediately.”
“I’m afraid it’ll have to wait until—”
“I said immediately!” Rosamund snapped.
Sophie squared her shoulders and gave Rosamund a steely look. “Your mother wants me to alter her gown.”
“Just pull the pins out and tell her you pulled it in. She’ll never notice the difference.”
Sophie had been considering the very same thing, and she groaned. If she did as Rosamund asked, Rosamund would tattle on her the very next day, and then Araminta would rant and rage for a week. Now she would definitely have to do the alteration.
“What do you need, Rosamund?”
“There is a tear at the hem of my costume. I have no idea how it happened.”
“Perhaps when you tried it on—”
“Don’t be impertinent!”
Sophie clamped her mouth shut. It was far more difficult to take orders from Rosamund than from Araminta, probably because they’d once been equals, sharing the same schoolroom and governess.
“It must be repaired immediately,” Rosamund said with an affected sniff.
Sophie sighed. “Just bring it in. I’ll do it right after I finish with your mother’s. I promise you’ll have it in plenty of time.”
“I won’t be late for this ball,” Rosamund warned. “If I am, I shall have your head on a platter.”
“You won’t be late,” Sophie promised.
Rosamund made a rather huffy sound, then hurried out the door to retrieve her costume.
“Ooof!”
Sophie looked up to see Rosamund crashing into Posy, who was barreling through the door.
“Watch where you’re going, Posy!” Rosamund snapped.
“You could watch where you’re going, too,” Posy pointed out.
“I was watching. It’s impossible to get out of your way, you big oaf.”
Posy’s cheeks stained red, and she stepped aside.
“Did you need something, Posy?” Sophie asked, as soon as Rosamund had disappeared.
Posy nodded. “Could you set aside a little extra time to dress my hair tonight? I found some green ribbons that look a little like seaweed.”
Sophie let out a long breath. The dark green ribbons weren’t likely to show up very well against Posy’s dark hair, but she didn’t have the heart to point that out. “I’ll try, Posy, but I have to mend Rosamund’s dress and alter your mother’s.”
“Oh.” Posy looked crestfallen. It nearly broke Sophie’s heart. Posy was the only person who was even halfway nice to her in Araminta’s household, save for the servants. “Don’t worry,” she assured her. “I’ll make sure your hair is lovely no matter how much time we have.”
“Oh, thank you, Sophie! I—”
“Haven’t you gotten started on my gown yet?” Araminta thundered as she returned from the washroom.
Sophie gulped. “I was talking with Rosamund and Posy. Rosamund tore her gown and—”
“Just get to work!”
“I will. Immediately.” Sophie plopped down on the settee and turned the gown inside out so that she could take in the waist. “Faster than immediately,” she muttered. “Faster than a hummingbird’s wings. Faster than—”
“What are you chattering about?” Araminta demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Well, cease your prattle immediately. I find the sound of your voice particularly grating.”
Sophie ground her teeth together.
“Mama,” Posy said, “Sophie is going to dress my hair tonight like—”
“Of course she’s going to dress your hair. Quit your dillydallying this minute and go put compresses on your eyes so they don’t look so puffy.”
Posy’s face fell. “My eyes are puffy?”
Sophie shook her head on the off chance that Posy decided to look down at her.
“Your eyes are always puffy,” Araminta replied. “Don’t you think so, Rosamund?”
Posy and Sophie both turned toward the door. Rosamund had just entered, carrying her Marie Antoinette gown. “Always,” she agreed. “But a compress will help, I’m sure.”
“You look stunning tonight,” Araminta told Rosamund. “And you haven’t even started getting ready. That gold in your gown is an exquisite match to your hair.”
Sophie shot a sympathetic look at the dark-haired Posy, who never received such compliments from her mother.
“You shall snare one of those Bridgerton brothers,” Araminta continued. “I’m sure of it.”
Rosamund looked down demurely. It was an expression she’d perfected, and Sophie had to admit it looked lovely on her. But then again, most everything looked lovely on Rosamund. Her golden hair and blue eyes were all the rage that year, and thanks to the generous dowry settled upon her by the late earl, it was widely assumed that she would make a brilliant match before the season was through.
Sophie glanced back over at Posy, who was staring at her mother with a sad, wistful expression. “You look lovely, too, Posy,” Sophie said impulsively.
Posy’s eyes lit up. “Do you think so?”
“Absolutely. And your gown is terribly original. I’m sure there won’t be any other mermaids.”
“How would you know, Sophie?” Rosamund asked with a laugh. “It’s not as if you’ve ever been out in society.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time, Posy,” Sophie said pointedly, ignoring Rosamund’s jibe. “I’m terribly jealous. I do wish I could go.”
Sophie’s little sigh and wish was met with absolute silence . . . followed by the raucous laughter of both Araminta and Rosamund. Even Posy giggled a bit.