A Most Unsuitable Match. Julia Justiss

the infamy of your mother’s reputation right after your brother marries a notorious former courtesan is clearly impossible. If we have to wait much longer, we will be too old for any man to wish to marry us!’

      ‘You should rather pity the girls who did debut and marry,’ Temperance told her flippantly. ‘Stuck home now with a husband to please and a babe on the way.’

      ‘Perhaps you would!’ Prudence flung back, raw disappointment goading her out of her customary restraint. ‘But having a husband who cares for me and a normal household filled with our children is all I’ve ever wished for.’

      Looking contrite, Temperance gave her a hug. ‘No female under Heaven is sweeter, lovelier or more deserving of a happy family. I’m sorry for speaking slightingly of your hopes. Forgive me?’

      Feeling guilty—for she knew if she didn’t keep such a tight control over herself, her reactions might be just as explosive as her sister’s, Prudence said gruffly, ‘I’m no angel. I know you were teasing. Forgive me, for being so tetchy.’

      ‘If squelching the rumours is impossible, what should we do, Aunt Gussie?’ Gregory asked.

      ‘I think it would be best if I took the girls out of London for a while.’

      ‘Not to Entremer!’ Temperance cried. ‘With nothing but empty moors and coal mines for miles, I’d expire of boredom in a month!’

      ‘I should know, I was raised there,’ Aunt Gussie said with a shudder. ‘No, I propose taking you somewhere much more pleasant. Granted, with the Season beginning, it will be thinner of company than I’d like, but my dear friend Helena lauds its excellent shopping and the lending libraries. There will be subscription dances and musicales, as well as the activities around the Pump Room—’

      ‘You mean Bath?’ Temperance interrupted, looking aghast. ‘Activities, yes—like assisting septuagenarians to sip the vile waters! That’s almost as bad as Northumberland!’

      ‘The city may not be as fashionable as it once was, but anything would be better than rusticating in the country,’ Gregory pointed out.

      ‘It’s not as large a stage as London, to be sure. But for a lady more interested in a congenial partner than in snagging wealth and a title, it might do. At the very least, you girls would be able to mingle in society and perhaps meet some amiable gentlemen, without whispers of this affair following you everywhere. You’ll gain some town bronze and if you find no one to your liking, there’s still next year in London.’

      ‘Sounds like an excellent idea,’ Gregory said. ‘And one that seems more likely to get my spinster sisters off my hands than inviting the censure of the ton this Season, as our intemperate Temper proposes.’

      ‘But most of the ton hostesses know we were supposed to be presented this year,’ Temperance argued. ‘I don’t want them to think I’m a coward—or that I’m ashamed of Mama! It’s not her bad behaviour that precipitated this.’

      ‘Do you want to make it worse for your mother?’ Aunt Gussie asked sharply. ‘Then, by all means, confront society and aggravate a scandal not of her making into such infamy that you can never be respectably settled!’

      When Temperance looked away, her defiant words subsiding in a dull flush, she continued more gently, ‘Your mama would be the first to urge you to be prudent.’

      ‘Dear Aunt Gussie, always offering sound counsel to keep me from doing something rash,’ Temperance said with a laugh, her anger disappearing as quickly as it had arisen. ‘Very well, I may not attempt to breach the hostile walls of the ton this Season. But neither do I intend to languish in Bath. I’ll stay in London—discreetly showing my support for Mama. Since I have no intention of ever marrying, what difference does it make to me? In the interim, if I promise to send him any treasures I uncover, perhaps I can persuade Papa to release some of the blunt he’s put away for the dowry I won’t need and let me go adventuring in Europe.’

      ‘But you, darling Sis,’ she said, turning back to Prudence, ‘should go to Bath. And I hope with all my heart you will find there what you are seeking.’

      ‘You are adamant about remaining in London?’ Aunt Gussie asked Temperance.

      ‘Much as I will miss Pru, yes, I am.’

      ‘I’d prefer if you could get Temper out of my hair, too, until this fracas dies down,’ Gregory said to Aunt Gussie, ignoring the face Temperance made at him. ‘But if you can at least take Prudence out of harm’s way, I’ll appreciate it. So the two of you will pack up and leave for Bath as soon as possible?’

      ‘We will. And hope to find her that agreeable gentleman,’ Lady Stoneway said, with a fond look at Pru.

      The very possibility helping her crushed hopes revive, Prudence said, ‘That would be wonderful!’

      ‘Be careful what you wish for, dear Sis,’ Temperance warned.

      With the family conference ended and their aunt returning to her own home, Prudence and Temperance walked arm in arm back up to their chamber. ‘Are you sure I can’t coax you to come with us? We’ve never been apart! I shall feel so lost without you,’ Pru said, the reality of being without her twin beginning to sink in with dismaying clarity.

      She soothed herself with the thought that, painful as their parting would be, at the end of a sojourn in Bath might be new love and support—from a husband. And unlike the twin, who despite her protests to the contrary, must some day marry and leave her, he would love and support her for ever.

      ‘I shall miss your cautious voice warning me against taking some impulsive and usually rash action,’ Temper was saying, smiling at her. ‘I do think it’s a good idea for Aunt Gussie to take you away, though. Leave London, where, after this latest contretemps, we’re bound to be pointed out and stared at wherever we go.’

      Prudence groaned, the truth of that statement bringing a surge of the resentment and prickly discomfort she always felt when going out into public view. ‘Thank you for the reminder. I shall avoid the modiste and finish obtaining any necessary gowns in Bath. It was bad enough last week.’

      Temperance laughed caustically. ‘Ah, yes, last week, at Madame Emilie’s. When that whey-faced little heiress kept staring at us?’

      ‘Very subtle, wasn’t she?’ Pru said, sarcasm lacing her voice. ‘She could hardly wait for us to disappear behind the curtains for our fitting before asking in a horrified “whisper” that could be heard by every shopper in the establishment, “so those are the Scandal Sisters”!’

      ‘If I hadn’t been clad only in my chemise at that moment, I would have popped out, bowed like an opera dancer taking an encore and cried, “Voila, c’est nous!”’

      ‘Whereas I would rather have left by the back door.’

      ‘Only to sneak into the chit’s bedchamber that night and strangle her in her sleep?’ Temper suggested with a grin.

      Pru laughed. ‘The notion does appeal. Oh, Temper, I wish I could face it with humour, like you do. But it just grates on me like nails on a slate and all I want is to be rid of it! The scandal, the notoriety, the whispers behind the hands whenever we walk into a room. Oh, to become Mrs Somebody Else, wife of a well-respected man and resident of some small estate far, far from London! Where I can stroll through a nearby village whose residents have never heard of “the Scandal Sisters”, able to hold my head high and be talked about only for my...my lovely babies and my garden!’

      ‘With a husband who dotes on you, who never tires of hugging you and kissing you and cuddling you on his knee...instead of a father who barely tolerates a handshake.’

      Both girls sighed, wordlessly sharing the same bitter memory of years of trying and failing to win the affection of a man who preferred keeping them—and, to be fair, everyone else, including his wife—at a distance. Though Temper persisted in