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countess gave Beatrice a fond smile that vanished when she turned her attention to her eldest granddaughter. “Eloise, you’re quick with a needle. You may have some of my old gowns to make over.”
    Ellie eyed the countess’s doughy form encased in a vast swath of burnt-orange satin. Nothing could be less welcome than a donation from a wardrobe that contained the most nauseating hues Ellie had ever had the misfortune to see. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I’m sure that I can manage to purchase a bolt or two of cloth.”
    “Nonsense. You can’t possibly afford the finest materials. I will not have you looking ragtag, especially in light of your taking charity from Lady Milford.”
    Then why do you or my uncle not offer to purchase a few new gowns for me?
    Ellie knew better than to voice that question. It had been established long ago that since her father’s debts had been so excessive, she should expect no further outlay of funds from the family. She reminded herself that her escape from this household would come soon enough. Until then, she’d wear sackcloth and ashes if necessary. “Thank you, then. It is most generous of you, Grandmamma.”
    Her grandmother arched an eyebrow, shifting a myriad of facial wrinkles. “I trust you are sincere in your gratitude, Eloise. I do not care to think you a bad seed like your father.”
    Ellie’s anger flared. She could tolerate being treated like a poor relation for the remainder of her time here. She could not, however, endure the countess’s biting scorn for her second son. “Papa may have had his faults, but he loved me very much. He was an excellent father.”
    “Do not confer sainthood on such a wicked man,” the countess retorted. “Theo left you alone while he went off to gamble, sometimes for days on end. That is hardly the mark of a devoted father.”
    “I was never alone,” Ellie said defensively. “There was always a servant with me. I didn’t mind Papa’s absence so very much.”
    Her mother having died when Ellie was six, she had learned at a young age to keep herself occupied with solitary pursuits. There were always books to read and stories to imagine, fictional worlds in which to lose herself for hours on end …
    “I say,” Walt drawled, “perhaps we should leave Ellie her illusions. Surely there can be no harm in them.”
    Ellie turned to see her cousin swirling the dregs of wine in his goblet. He was staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl. At times, Walt made her uneasy, especially when he’d been drinking. On several occasions he’d caught her on the upper stairs or in a dark corridor, cornering her on some pretext while patting her hand or touching her waist in a too familiar fashion.
    Was he taking her side now merely as a means of currying favor? So that she would allow his advances? She quailed at the thought.
    “No harm?” Lord Pennington echoed on a note of disdain. “My brother squandered his inheritance, and Eloise mustn’t pretend otherwise. I would never behave so irresponsibly, nor would you, Walter. It is unforgivable for a Stratham to gamble.”
    During his father’s speech, Walt’s smile went stiff. He cast a quick sidelong look at his father, then stared moodily into his wine goblet. The curious reaction caught Ellie’s attention. She wondered if, unbeknownst to the earl, Walt had dabbled in the vice of wagering.
    It wouldn’t surprise her. Like many idle young gentlemen, Walt spent an inordinate amount of time at various clubs and entertainments. He surely would have been tempted into playing cards or dice.
    No one else appeared to notice. Beatrice piped up with a question to the earl about which gentlemen engaged in wicked behaviors so that she might take care to avoid them. That sparked a lively conversation about the girl’s marital prospects, and Ellie was relieved to have the attention turned away from herself while the family ate their dessert.
    She barely tasted her raspberry