The Unscrupulous Uncle Read Online Free Page B

course,” agreed Damon, recognizing the understatement.
    Now he nodded at whatever Hastings was suggesting. What had happened? And why was she avoiding society? There was only one way to find out – call at Ridgway House and ask her.
    Promise me, Damon. If anything happens to me, you will look after Catherine. But he had not. He had failed to carry out a sacred vow. By ignoring Devlin Court, he had not learned that Catherine’s future remained unsettled. Guilt flogged him, joining the ghosts that already berated him.
    I’m sorry, Peter! Somehow, I will make up for my negligence.
     * * * *
     “Peckland claims that Mrs. Newman has a putrid sore throat,” groused Lady Braxton, biting into a scone. “I don’t know why he has to bother me with tenant problems. Handling such things is his job.”
    Catherine mentally shrugged. Her aunt had never grasped that the lady of the manor was expected to look after the welfare of the tenants. Peckland usually brought problems to Catherine. Why not this time?
    Lady Braxton finished her scone and sighed. “You will have to see the woman, I suppose. Take her a basket.”
    “Gladly.”
    “But don’t give her anything valuable. It only encourages excess sensibility. Peasants should never succumb to so trifling an ailment. They are too lazy already.”
    Biting back a scathing rejoinder, Catherine left to execute this latest commission. It did no good to brangle with relatives who could so easily make her life miserable. But there were times that silence was difficult.
    Lady Braxton’s contempt was nothing new. Nor was it unusual for someone in her position. Her father was a prosperous farmer who had been thrilled when Eugenia caught the eye of a baron’s younger son. But once she was wed, the girl ignored her family. Hortense and Drucilla had never even met their maternal grandparents, despite living barely twenty miles away. And Eugenia’s antagonism had worsened once death had elevated her husband to the peerage. Her background also colored her attitude toward Catherine, for she resented the aristocratic blood flowing through her niece’s veins.
    Lady Braxton’s current ill temper dated to Sir Mortimer’s dinner party. Catherine had not attended, of course, but Dru’s description of the house guests matched Eugenia’s assessment – except that Lord Grey was in his late forties. Yet the evening had ended like so many others. The gentlemen pointedly avoided the Braxton sisters. Nor were they interested in attending a picnic, however well planned, claiming that business necessitated an immediate return to town. Word that they had not departed until three days later further infuriated the baroness. She had stormed about like a stoat with a sore paw ever since.
    Hortense followed her mother’s lead, railing at spiteful gossip, for only a jealous rival could have prompted the cut she received before Lord Grey even made her acquaintance. Catherine made no comment, though she was mortified on behalf of her family. School friends whose older brothers were considered catches had repeated tales of matchmaking mothers and the stratagems they employed. The lower their own social status, the more blatant their lures. She could only conclude that her aunt was worse than the most encroaching mushroom, throwing her daughters at gentlemen with no regard to convention or even good taste. The Braxton ancestors must be turning in their graves at how far their once-proud name had fallen.
    She had tried to convince Hortense that a different approach would work better. “Gentlemen prefer demure innocence and dislike being openly pursued,” she warned. “It creates an impression of impropriety that is difficult to overcome.”
    “What would you know about the world?” scoffed her cousin. “You have never even been out in local society.”
    “True, but Peter was, and I had many friends at school whose brothers and sisters were in London.”
    “Ha! Some friends! Have you heard a word from