The Wedding Game Read Online Free

and went towards the kitchen regions to consult with the cook, Mrs. Hudson, on the subject of her father's dinner.
    “Oh, don't you worry, Miss Chas,” Mrs. Hudson said comfortably. “I've a fine brace of pheasant for his lordship, with applesauce, just as he likes it. And there's his favorite chestnut soup, and I've baked a cream custard. Tempt his appetite nicely, that will.”
    “I knew you'd have it organized,” Chastity said. “It certainly smells delicious in here.” She smiled, bade the cook a cheerful farewell, and hastened upstairs to get together her clothes for the evening.
    It still felt strange and rather lonely sometimes being the only one left in the house. In the old days the sisters would dress together, moving around between bedrooms, sharing clothes, jewels and trinkets, curling irons, asking one another's opinions of particular items of dress. Both Constance and Prudence were very aware of Chastity's possible loneliness and went out of their way to ensure that she spent almost as much time with them now as she had when they were all together under the same roof. Very rarely did Chastity dress alone if she and one or both of her sisters were attending the same social event; she had a standing invitation to stay at both houses. Natural delicacy kept her from overusing the invitation. Much as she liked her brothers-in-law and knew that the liking was mutual, she didn't want to intrude on her sisters' marriages.
    Now she frowned to herself as she examined the contents of her wardrobe, contemplating the upcoming discussion with her sisters about her encounter with Douglas Farrell. Part of her cherished the secret wish that they would be as repulsed by the doctor's mercenary attitude as she herself was and would agree to decline his request for the Go-Between's service. She might wish it, but she also knew it was a fond hope. They would not turn down a paying client. But where were they going to find a suitably wealthy, suitably compliant, suitably socially positioned candidate for the doctor?
    She chose an emerald-green silk gown with a low-cut neck and a small train that fell in graceful folds at the back from the high waist set just beneath her bosom. It was one of Doucet's creations, bought for Chastity by Constance in Paris on her honeymoon. She draped the gown over the back of a chair and selected the accessories, packing them in a small valise with her nightdress, toothbrush, and hairbrush. When all was assembled she gathered the gown over her arm, picked up her valise, and hastened downstairs just as the clock struck six.
    Jenkins took her burdens and carried them out to the waiting carriage while she went to say good night to her father. Lord Duncan seemed a little more genial now. The lights burned cheerfully and the fire blazed. His whisky decanter was recharged and the good smell of roasting pheasant drifted from the kitchen. “Give your sisters my love, my dear,” he instructed. “Tell them to come and see me once in a while.”
    “Father, really,” Chastity protested. “They were here only yesterday. You know they come almost every day.”
    “Yes, but not to see me so much as to get on with the business of putting out that disgraceful rag you're all so proud of,” Lord Duncan declared. “What your mother can have been thinking of when she started that publication, I can't imagine.”
    “Women's suffrage, as you know very well,” Chastity told him, refusing to be drawn into this conversation. “And we're simply carrying the banner for her.”
    Lord Duncan harrumphed and waved her away. “Off you go, you don't want to be late.”
    “I'll be back in the morning,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “Enjoy your dinner. Mrs. Hudson's cooked all your favorites, so be sure to thank her.”
    Shaking her head, she left him to his whisky. Cobham was waiting beside the carriage when she ran lightly down the steps, drawing her coat closer about her against the cold. The electric