No Marriage of Convenience by Elizabeth Boyle Page A

for the upcoming Season. All three of you will come out this year.”
    Bea’s mouth opened—to protest, he assumed—but he cocked a brow and waited for her to speak as if he dared her to utter a word of contradiction.
    Obviously he hadn’t lost his touch, for her lips remained gaping like a fish for a few moments and then snapped shut—either having realized her remarks were futile or fear of that convent had made an indelible impression.
    “As I was saying, Madame Fontaine will start your lessons today.”
    “Today!” all of them protested.
    He glanced over at Hashim, whose grin seemed to say, Put your foot down .
    “Yes, today. And from the behavior I have witnessed this morning, it isn’t a minute too soon.”
    His firm stance was greeted with glum expressions but no further verbal protests.
    Mason took a deep breath, feeling for the first time since Freddie’s death in command of his own destiny. He paced, taking a few tentative steps and then stronger strides around the corner of his desk.
    “Uncle, if I may ask a question?” The inquiry came from Louisa, which didn’t surprise him, given her daring, but it was her soft tones and sweet smile that startled him.
    “Yes?”
    “I understand that you have hired Madame Fontaine with the best of intentions,” she said, smiling both at him and the lady in question. “But what if someone discovers her presence here? Discovers that you’ve hired a…”
    “Common strumpet?” Bea offered, an equally sweet smile pasted on her face.
    Louisa shot an annoyed glance at her sister, and then finished her own inquiry with a little more polite phrasing. “A lady, shall we say, of questionable qualifications to instruct us. Think how such a thing might be interpreted.” She shuddered delicately.
    If Mason hadn’t lived with his nieces for all these months he might have been moved by Louisa’s demure protest, but he was past falling for their tricks.
    Besides, the solution to her argument was quite simple.
    “No one will know about Madame Fontaine’s engagement in our house, because we will not breathe a word of it to anyone.”
    “But the servants,” Bea protested.
    “I will instruct Belton to advise them that if they want to stay employed, they will keep this information confidential.”
    Not that they had that many servants as it was. The only ones who’d remained had done so only out of loyalty to the family. “Not one word, or there will be no Season for any of you, no invitations to balls, or vouchers to Almack’s,” he told his nieces again.
    “ Almack’s ,” Maggie whispered in reverent tones. “Do you really think we might get vouchers?”
    Mason smiled at his niece, hopeful that perhaps at least one of them would see they had something to gain from Madame’s tutelage. “You will have to prove to the patronesses that you are worthy of gaining vouchers. From what your Cousin Felicity tells me, it can be quite difficult.”
    “Not for us,” Louisa avowed. Her arms crossed over her chest. “Why, our mother was welcome everywhere. There is no reason to believe…” she paused and glanced at her sisters. “That at least one of us will be given vouchers.”
    “But there are no guarantees,” Mason told her, “that any of you will be given such a rare distinction if one of you disgraces the family.” He let the impact of his words sink in.
    The girls glanced at each other, obviously measuring their siblings’ social faults. From the trio of frowns which followed, they hadn’t liked the way their estimations tallied up.
    “So, do I have your word?” he asked.
    They nodded, albeit reluctantly, and then their glances swung toward Cousin Felicity.
    Mason understood the aim of their concern. “This was your idea, Cousin. What do you have to say? Can you refrain from sharing any mention of Madame Fontaine’s presence in our home with your acquaintances?”
    Cousin Felicity pursed her lips. Her worried brow told everyone in the room they were