Nicola Cornick by True Colours Page A

very…’ He paused, and for an insane moment Alicia thought he was going to say‘rich’. ‘Very well indeed. I hope that you will feel able to stay for a little time.’
    Nothing would have pleased Alicia less. She tried to think of a polite rebuff, but once again the effort of framing the appropriate words defeated her. Fortunately the silence, which was already threatening to become strained, was broken by the sound of running steps on the stair and by Annabella’s voice.
    ‘Lud, sister, can it really be you?’
    Alicia could have said much the same thing. The voluptuous beauty who had reached the bottom step and was now pausing for effect bore little resemblance to the skinny little sister of eleven whom Alicia had not seen in seven years. Annabella Broseley justified the term statuesque and her clinging scarlet riding habit made her charms abundantly clear. Unlike Alicia, who had, of course, inherited the glorious but unfashionable copper hair of their maternal grandmother, Annabella was blonde. Her eyes were of a paler green than her sister’s and hers was a bold, flaunting beauty which she used to advantage on all the men she met.
    Annabella’s gooseberry-green eyes were now appraising her sister with a patronising regard. She was deeply jealous of Alicia, though she would never have admitted it. Not only was her sister very wealthy in her own right, but she was also an acknowledged beauty who had earned the sobriquet of the most desirable widow in Society. Society’s opinion mattered a great deal to Annabella and it seemed unfair to her that a widow of twenty-six, who should have been at her last prayers, should have such an enviable existence.
    Both sisters had the same heart-shaped faces, but the dramatic lines of the cheekbones and the determined chin which gave Alicia both beauty and resolution were already blurring into fat on Annabella’s face. Her mouth was accustomed to droop with bitter discontent and her low voice was cultivated to be deliberately sultry.
    Alicia’s taste in clothes was far too subtle to appeal to Annabella, who, unlike her father, dismissed the superbly cut bronze travelling dress as plain in a single glance. Mrs Henley’s maid had taken Alicia’s hair up beneath the elegant bronze wide-brimmed hat and this, with its contrasting ribbon, was again too simple to win her sister’s favour. Patting her own be-ribboned and flower-decked hair with complacency, Annabella walked around Alicia, inspecting her as one might the points of a horse.
    ‘La, Alicia, you are so thin!’ This was not a virtue in Annabella’seyes, for she saw her sister’s slenderness as ugly. ‘And so pale!’ She eyed Alicia’s porcelain skin suspiciously. ‘I see you do not favour cosmetics to improve your looks. Oh!’ She gave an affected little shriek. ‘Never say those are freckles on your nose! Are freckles become the fashion in London, then?’
    The words were naive but the look which accompanied them was anything but simple. Belatedly she offered her own enamelled cheek for her sister’s kiss and stood back to watch the effect of her words.
    Alicia merely smiled at her sister’s malice. Annabella had always been like a kitten sharpening its claws, although now the kitten showed signs of having developed into a fully grown cat. For a brief moment she wondered how the two of them could possibly coexist peacefully during the next London Season, at the end of which she hoped Annabella would be safely married and off her hands. It looked as though it was going to be a difficult prospect.
    ‘You are looking very well, Annabella,’ she observed peaceably. ‘Are you intending to go riding? I had hoped to be away as soon as possible, for it is a few hours’ journey back to Chartley, and—’
    ‘Oh, but you must stay for refreshments at least!’ Annabella had flashed a look at their father who had stood silent throughout this exchange. She slipped her arm through Alicia’s, steering her in the