A Practical Mistress
"How dare you even think to treat your sisters so abominably!"
"Now, steady on, Helen, I don't like your tone. You know I am not legally obliged to house you and Charlotte, or give either of you a penny piece."
"Not legally obliged, perhaps! Morally obliged indeed you are, and not simply to house us, but to keep us in comfort, and you cannot pretend you don't know it."
George Kingston seemed unaffected by the mixture of disgust and entreaty firing his sister's tawny eyes. In fact, he lounged back in his chair and continued to probe his teeth with a little silver toothpick.
Helen Marlowe, née Kingston, felt her stomach churn with impotent rage as she observed her brother's apathy. Tendrils of raven hair were angrily twitched back from a complexion that, customarily pale as porcelain, was flushed with righteous indignation. 'I know you do not truly want to be mean to us, George, for I am certain you recall as well as I the undertaking you gave Papa. We are not asking for your money, all we want is the allowance to which we are entitled. And I need not remind you that Papa stipulated Westlea House was to be a home for Charlotte and m ... read full excerpt from: A Practical Mistress ebook
