Any meal with Lady Clarice Ashdown could be compared to attending church service with a vicar who did not know the core of his teachings. The woman would say one thing in front of many people and say another the moment she turned her back.

The latter began the moment Tori sat down and lifted her fork.

"I hope you are keeping your distance from the Everards, Victoria."

Margaret and the rest of the Everards had to face yet another scandal mere days after the ball. And this time, it was more serious than the last. The road to the first Everard wedding was proving to be a challenge because this time it involved the Men of Courts.

The family was not just facing a scandal anymore. This time they had to deal with a crime accused on Benedict's fiancée.

Victoria was quite familiar with Agatha Blair. As the governess of the two youngest Everards, the woman had by far been amongst the best. She had joined Margaret and Tori in many quiet afternoons reading books, discussing subjects that ladies of their age and intellect were interested in. In fact, Tori considered Agatha a friend. And to see the accusations thrown at the woman, and to witness people believe the said accusations, nearly pushed Tori to march down to Everard House and protect the woman. But she had her own struggles at home.

She frowned at Clarice. The woman was dressed for another night out.

Tori could not entirely blame the woman's capricious nature, for her father should have known the woman he was marrying when he met her. After Tori's mother died when she was but five, August Ashdown thought Tori needed a mother.

He could have picked a better and older woman. Clarice had never physically maltreated her, but the woman had never seen her as anyone but a competition either—a competition to her husband's attention and most definitely his wealth. Tori knew they were nearly at the last of their townsends, but Clarice would still act as though she owned every cobblestone she walked on.

"You have said merely days ago, Clarice, that the Everards are dear friends," she wryly commented on the woman's statement.

"I know, dear, but you also know that there are quite a number of people who are wary of them at the moment. With this big scandal about the governess being a witch, I do not want you to suffer the same fate."

"You should have worried about my attachment to the Everards before you practically dropped me in their doorsteps every chance you could after Papa's accident."

A flicker of annoyance crossed Clarice's eyes. "But that was before, Victoria. You are a grown woman now. By God, you are nearly a spinster! You ought to think more for yourself than hang around the Everards. It would have been neat if one of those brothers offered for you, but I do not see that happening."

She had long given up understanding what Clarice really wanted for her. Not many years ago, she had a line of suitors willing to give her their names, but it was Clarice who had so frequently told her not to accept, having seen too many flaws on the gentlemen, until the day came that all of them ceased to come.

At some point, she truly believed Clarice wanted the best for her. Oh, how wrong she had been.

"Now, you ought to spend more time with Lucas. He has been meaning to talk to you, but you are not always home when he comes around."

"I do not see why I would need to be present whenever he is," Tori said, feigning ignorance. Clarice may appear calm and graceful most days, but years of living under the same roof as the woman had opened Tori to the many facets of Clarice Ashdown.

At her words, Clarice set her fork down and eyed her evenly with a smile. "He wishes to marry you."

"And you are going to say no, yes?" she asked, matching her stepmother's sly smile before she chewed on a piece of roasted beef.

"You will be a fool not to accept. He is from the good side of the family, he is handsome, and he will take care of you."

Tori stiffened, stunned. She watched her stepmother nonchalantly chew her food, looking utterly innocent.

Something caused the woman to change her mind.

Buying time, Tori carefully forked her food and fed herself. As she chewed, her mind reeled. She tried to think like Margaret. What would her friend do? What would Margaret say?

They want your dowry. She clearly heard her friend's voice in her head.

"You must mean take care of my dowry. He will be a tad richer than he is now," she nonchalantly said, studying Clarice's reaction. She saw nothing, which meant something where her stepmother was concerned.

"Lucas will manage your accounts far better than you possibly could. You know naught but stitch and make calls for tea with your friends. A man like Lucas is more than capable of assuring that you do not burn every townsend your father had set aside for you."

Tori knew that this moment was important. She was in a game where Clarice was at an advantage and she had to play this right. Something had made Clarice change her mind, and now the woman was willing to marry Tori off to Lucas. Had she reached an agreement with the man Tori was not aware of?

"I wish to marry someone of my choosing."

Clarice frowned at her with amusement, one that bordered on condescending. "There is no one to choose from, Victoria. Have you gone blind?" Then she looked from left to right. "I do not see suitors waiting in the parlor!"

"And if I find one?"

Clarice regarded her with narrowed and suspicious eyes, but the smile remained. "You are almost on the shelf, darling. You will marry Lucas before he changes his mind."

"Forgive me, Clarice, but I refuse the match."

Clarice's chuckle was airy and nasal. Her shoulder shook as the sound of her amusement rescinded into a sigh of equal pity and mirth. "Darling, I cannot have you under my care forever."

"Why? Because I am becoming a burden? An extra mouth to feed?"

The woman's eyes dramatically widened in horror. "Victoria! You cannot speak of such a horrible thing!"

"Forgive me," she apologized, wiping her lips with the napkin.

Her stepmother let out a dramatic sigh. "You always do this, you know. You come up with the most insane accusations to appear the victim when things do not go your way."

"And are you trying to avoid my questions because they are true?" she retorted, her smile hurting her face. "Or because you are hiding something from me?" She ignored the growing lump in her throat and focused on the matter at hand.

"Hiding something? Whatever do you mean, Victoria?"

Tori counted in her head, heart pounding in her ears as she did so. Once she said the words, there would be no turning back. "My mother's settlement money, of course. The one I should get once I turn thirty."

The effect was rewarding. Clarice's face froze along with the knife in her hand. Then it was gone in a blink. "There is no settlement money left from your mother. Wherever did you get that insane idea?"

Again, she counted to ten. "Father's diary, of course." Clarice grew paler. With a satisfied smile, Tori added, "I am quite certain my father's good solicitor can provide me with more accurate information as to the amount I am entitled to get and where I can get them. Or be kind enough to tell me that there is indeed no such amount." Clarice suddenly looked ashen. Tori shrugged. "I tried sending Mr Frasier a letter of inquiry. I'm quite certain he can answer my questions, but he seems too busy." Clarice scoffed, but one could not miss the look of panic in her eyes.

Tori reached for her wine and slowly sipped. Then she swallowed, eyes on her stepmother's. "But sometimes I wonder how busy a solicitor truly is. Certainly, Mr Frasier can spare me his time. After all, he welcomes you in his office every Wednesday, does he not?"

The victory she felt at that point would have been enough, really, because Clarice was as livid as she had ever allowed herself to be in front of Tori. "You have been spying on me, Victoria?"

Victoria feigned horror. "I would never do such a thing, Clarice. I know your visits to Mr Frasier are purely business." The woman's eyes flickered to the servants standing at one side of the dining room. Tori could tell that the woman was piecing everything together. But before she could, Tori added, "I will not pursue my inquiries with Mr Frasier if you will grant me the freedom to choose—of find—a husband."

Her stepmother snapped her head back at her from across the table, face flushed with contained fury and panic.

"You can have my mother's settlement money all to yourself once I get a match of my own choosing. I will leave with naught but my dowry." She let the silence linger just long enough to ask, "And the dowry is still untouched, yes?"

"Of course it is!" Clarice shrilled.

"Of course. I am certain Mr Frasier is taking care of everything," said Tori, breaking into a bigger smile. "I see no reason I would need more. After you squandered everything else, I believe you will need my mother's money the most."

Clarice's jaw tightened. "Your mother's dowry was not even enough for herself, darling. Do not delude yourself that she had any left for you."

"And I do not see any reason you cannot give me the freedom to choose my match."

The woman's laughter sounded forced, but it still sent a chill down Tori's spine. "Darling, you are under my care. What makes you think I cannot choose the husband for you?"

Tori sighed. "Perhaps I should visit Mr Frasier after all. You and he may be friends, but law binds him to accommodate me. If my mother's settlement money is indeed in existence, of course."

"If it is, you will get it when you reach your thirtieth birthday."

Clarice was correct, of course, but two years was too long. The estate would be out of their hands by then. She needed to get her hands on her dowry soon.

"Then it shall be yours. If you allow me to choose my own husband."

Clarice's face twitched.

"I do not need to visit Mr Frasier. I will not claim my mother's settlement money. You can have it all to yourself."

She could almost feel her stepmother's ire echo around the room, crawling across the floor to slither up her legs and into her skin. Tori held on. Her hand fisted under the table, nails digging into her palm because she had no one—or anything—to hold on to for strength.

"You have a month," Clarice's crisp voice came to her like a dream—or a nightmare. She could not tell for certain, for it felt like both.

"No, I want the entire Wickhurst Season."

Clarice laughed, but the mirth did not reach her eyes. "Very well. I am not saying your mother's settlement money is real, dear, but I would love to see you try and fail." Recovering with a shrug, Clarice's hand moved, and she sliced the meat on her plate. "And once you do, I do not want to hear anything about missing settlements."

"Of course."

"And no more threats of visiting Mr Frasier. That poor man is too busy to entertain your embarrassing inquiries."

"Yes, of course."

"And you will marry Lucas."

Tori's jaw tightened.

"Victoria?" Clarice asked, brows arched. "Are we clear? If you cannot find yourself a husband by the end of the Wickhurst Season, you will marry Lucas. The villa I bought is only large enough for myself."

"Yes," she bit out.

The confidence was back on her stepmother's face. "I'm willing to give you a chance to make a choice since you seem to enjoy deluding yourself that you can actually make one. Perhaps you can find a fine gentleman at the Everard wedding. I heard they invited most of the polite society. That is, if your friends ever survive this horrid scandal."

Tori could not swallow her food, the reality of her bold agreement with Clarice settling in.

Later, she sat at the same chair by the window in her father's old bedchamber, lost in her own thoughts.

Did she make the right move? Was Clarice right?

Could she, Victoria Ashdown, truly find a match this season?

Good Lord, it was the Wickhurst Season! Where everyone would be in their best gowns and jewelries; where all gentlemen would expect substantial dowries.

She barely had any of those.