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most of their belongings to pay Uncle Andrew’s debts. A kinder, dearer father never lived. The thought brought a lump of tears to her throat.
    Tess arrived and rushed to her side. “Here, now, my lady. Let me help button your gown.” After finishing that task she led Kendra to the seat at her dressing table and started fussing over her hair. As she reached for a pair of pretty combs, Kendra shook her head and handed her plain ones. “Won’t you at least let me run some ribbon in your hair?”
    “No, Tess, I want to look my worst.” She sighed as she contemplated her reflection. The gown was a dull gray, but it only seemed to enhance her violet-blue eyes. It had an unfashionably high neckline with small ruffles around the collar edged in lace. The sleeves were long, tight fitting with matching ruffles at the wrists. The cinched waist made her figure curvier than she liked. Her blonde hair was caught up in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, but a tiny wisp had already escaped to frame her face in a softening way. Kendra stuck out her tongue at her reflection and stood. Oh, well, she would just have to be as unpleasant as she could manage.
    Tess threw up her hands. “Well, I’ve not seen you look worse.”
    “That’s excellent news, Tess. Thank you.”
    Tess only shook her head and rushed out of the room to help prepare the meal.
    A short time later Kendra was summoned to the green salon, one of the few rooms with furniture left in it. The dread in the pit of her stomach caused a strange churning sound. She hoped she wouldn’t need to carry a chamber pot on her arm throughout the evening. She smiled at the thought, what an entrance that would make! Mayhap she should go back to her room and fetch it. With a shake of her head, she inched down the curving stairway and stopped just inside the door to survey the scene.
    Her uncle looked up at her and frowned. Kendra held back the bubble of laughter that threatened to explode from her chest. He probably hadn’t known Kendra owned anything so distasteful. He composed his angry expression, though, and came forward to lend his arm.
    He led her over to a man who must be at least seventy if he was a day. His beady eyes surveyed her from the top of her head to the toes of her shoes peeping from beneath her gown. She stared back, chin up, looking down her nose at him in exaggerated distaste. He finally looked away, mopping his forehead with a lacy handkerchief. A cloying smell clung to him and made her want to gag. She didn’t know if she should burst out laughing or crying. Lord Randall Barrymore was a terribly thin, slavering man with beady, darting eyes set in a red, splotchy face. Dear God, please get me out of this!
    He took Kendra’s hand, leaving it with a sloppy kiss, and stated in a nasal voice, “I am most pleased to meet you, Lady Townsend.”
    Kendra jerked her hand away and wiped it on her skirt. She turned her head away, ignoring his greeting, which caused Andrew to jab her in the ribs with his elbow. “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure.” She didn’t try to cover the sarcastic tone in her voice.
    Andrew gulped down the drink in his hand as a servant announced that dinner was ready to be served. Her uncle hesitated and then offered Kendra his arm once again. He must have known she would ignore Lord Barrymore’s arm, had he extended it.
    “Shall we?” Uncle Andrew glared at her behind Lord Barrymore’s back, despite his tight smile and jolly voice.
    During the dinner, between tiny bites of food, Lord Barrymore boasted of his wealth, describing in detail his penny-pinching methods of keeping his estate intact.
    So, he was a miser along with being too old for her. When he started to expound on his manly abilities and how she was not to worry that age had slowed him down, she knew she had to do something. It was time to act.
    “Not to worry, Lord Barrymore, for I have no desire for children. We need not even consider them, really.” She looked up into his