Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2)

Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2) Page 48

We've never said that, actually, but it serves us well.

"Oh, yes," Felicity says, wide-eyed."As a matter of fact, Miss Bradshaw has come to sing for us today, so you see, she is not really a guest of Mother's, but rather, she is a guest of the Alexandra."

"Felic--Miss Worthington!" Ann says, panicked.

"She is exceedingly modest," Felicity adds.

There is whispering among the society matrons. We are on the verge of creating a scene. The attendant is ill at ease. If he admits us all, he is breaking the rules in view of everyone; if he turns one of us away, he risks angering a member and perhaps being dismissed for it. Felicity has played her hand masterfully.

The matron steps forward. "As Miss Bradshaw is a guest of the Alexandra, I cannot see that it shall be any trouble at all."

"As you wish, madam," the man says.

"I look forward to hearing you sing this afternoon," the woman calls after.

"Felicity!" Ann whispers as the attendant escorts us into an oak-paneled dining room filled with lovely tables covered in white damask cloths.

"What is it?"

"You shouldn't have said that, about my singing today."

"You can sing, can't you?"

"Yes, but ..."

"Do you want to play this game or don't you, Ann?"

Ann says nothing more. The room is nearly filled with elegant women sipping tea and picking at watercress sandwiches. We are seated at a table in a far corner.

Felicity's face falls."My mother has arrived." Lady Worthington cuts a swath through the room. All eyes are upon her, for she is a handsome woman--fair as a china cup and seemingly as delicate. She exudes an air of fragility, like someone who has been cared for her entire life. Her smile is cordial without being too inviting. I could practice for a thousand years and not give such a smile. And her brown silk dress is sumptuous and cut in the latest fashion. Ropes of pearls hang round her slender neck. An enormous hat with peacock feathers on the band frames her face.

"Bonjour, darling," she says, kissing Felicity's cheeks as I've heard the Parisians do.

"Mother, must you make such a display?" Felicity chides.

"Very well, darling. Hello, Miss Bradshaw," Lady Worthington says. She looks at me, and her smile falters a bit."I don't believe we are acquainted."

"Mother, may I present Miss Gemma Doyle."

"How do you do, Lady Worthington?" I ask.

Mrs. Worthington gives Felicity a tight smile. "Felicity, darling, I do wish you would let me know when you've invited a guest to tea. The Alexandra is quite strict about its guests."

I want to die. I want to sink through the floor and disappear. Why must Felicity do these things?

A maid appears like a shadow at Mrs. Worthington's side and pours tea for her.

Mrs. Worthington places a napkin in her lap."Well, no matter now. I am happy to meet Felicity's friends. It's so nice that Miss Bradshaw could spend Christmas with us as her dear great-uncle, the duke, is detained in Saint Petersburg."

"Yes," I say, trying not to choke at this outrageous lie. "How fortunate we all are."

Lady Worthington asks a few polite questions and I give a dull but somewhat accurate autobiography; in return Lady Worthington seems to hang on every word. She makes me feel as if I'm the only person in the room. It's easy to see why the admiral would fall in love with her. When she speaks, her stories are exceedingly entertaining. But Felicity sits sullenly, playing with her spoon, until her mother puts a hand on hers to stop her.

"Darling," she says."Must you?"

Felicity sighs and looks around the room as if hoping to see someone to rescue her.

Lady Worthington gives one of her dazzling smiles. "Darling, I've some wonderful news. I had wanted to surprise you, but I don't think I can wait a moment longer."

"What is it?" Felicity asks.

"Papa has taken a ward. Little Polly was his cousin Bea's daughter. Bea died of consumption, we are told, though I daresay she

died of a broken heart. The father was always useless and signed her away without so much as a care. His own daughter."

Felicity has gone pale."What do you mean? She's to live with us? With you and Papa?"

"Yes. And Mrs. Smalls, the governess, of course. Your father is so happy to have a little princess in the house again. Felicity, dear, not too much sugar in your tea. It isn't good for the teeth," Lady Worthington chides without losing her smile.

As if she hasn't heard, Felicity drops two more lumps of sugar into her tea and drinks it. Her mother pretends she hasn't noticed.