Chapter 3
Lydia had recovered some of her good spirits by the following morning when she sat down to breakfast. Her father was reading his paper, and her great-aunt was poring over a set of fashion plates. Portia made a late entrance, casting only a brief glance at Great-Aunt Cornelia, who arched a brow in return. It amused Lydia to know the two spent all their time antagonizing each other, while she was left quite alone.
“Ah, Portia, good morning,” Jackson greeted his younger daughter.
“Morning, Papa.” She kissed his cheek before she sashayed to her seat. She wore a gown of cerulean blue, and her hair was styled in the latest fashion, pulled back with artful curls framing her face. Lydia tried to ignore the sudden awareness of her own boring gown, a soft blue satin with fewer frills th
