“Prudence!” Grace put her hands to her cheeks, absolutely certain they’d turned scarlet. She would have put more into scolding her sister if she’d not had the same thought the last time he’d visited.
She’d never admit as much to Pru, though. It would only encourage her.
At nearly seventeen, Prudence was anything but wise and judicious. Oh, she had mellowed a bit over this last year. The loss of their oldest brother and the rumors that had followed certainly had a quailing effect on Prudence’s exuberance, but only in public. In private, she was still as impetuous as ever.
How would she behave at a house party? This would be a first for both of them. It was a good thing Lord Gladsby was used to Prudence’s antics or Grace would have begged her mother to take her to their older sister’s home. Then again, Joyce would not appreciate Prudence whipping her small brood into a frenzy every day. Joyce needed her rest if she was to bring her next little one safely into the world.
The loss of Joyce’s last pregnancy still weighed heavily on all their hearts. When word had come that she’d taken to her bed with this little one, their mother had not hesitated to go. Grace had offered as well, but her mother had refused, reminding her that kindnesses like Lord and Lady Hamdon had offered should never be turned down.
Anthony—she supposed she should call him Lord Hamdon now that they were grown, but the habit had never died—would surely have given his wife fair warning, wouldn’t he? Hopefully his wife would be as forgiving of Prudence’s exuberance as Lord Gladsby.
“Your eyes are getting that far off look again, Grace. You’re not thinking about a certain man’s dashing figure and golden curls, are you?”
Grace picked up the nearest pair of rolled up stockings and threw them at her sister. Prudence rolled over and hopped to her feet, giggling. The stockings landed harmlessly on the bed.
“What about the almost dimple in his cheek?”
Grace snatched up the pair of stockings again.
“And that little cleft in his chin.” Prudence danced out of the way as the stockings sailed past her.
“And—oof!”
Grace grinned when the second pair of stockings she launched made contact with Prudence’s mouth. Her sister held the comically stunned look so long that Grace burst into laughter.
“Good aim,” Prudence said between her own peals of laughter.
There was a light rap on the door before a white-blonde head popped in.
“I thought you were retiring early to pack,” their sister-in-law Diana said.
“That is what I’m doing.” Grace indicated the clothes spread on the bed.
Diana eyed the stockings on the floor and Prudence’s faux look of innocence.
“At least I was,” Grace amended, “until Pru distracted me.”
“Not I.” Prudence placed a hand on her chest with a dramatic flourish. “It was all your talk of Lord Gladsby that was the true culprit.”
“My talk?” Grace picked up another pair of stockings and flung it at her. Prudence caught it and tossed it right back.
“Yes.” Diana giggled. “I see you are making great progress. But perhaps you could aim those stockings in that direction.” She pointed to the open trunks behind Grace.
Prudence danced about the bed until she stood on the other side of the trunks. “Grace just doesn’t want to confess she’s half in love with the baron.”
Heat filled Grace’s cheeks. Out of stockings, she snatched a slipper. “Or you are. You are the one that can’t stop talking about him.”
She let the slipper fly.
With a deft hand, Prudence batted it right into the trunk. “You are right, Di. The packing does go faster this way.”
They all laughed.
Diana’s abigail peeked in the open door, a question in her eyes.
“Yes, Pratt?” Diana asked.
“I’m done with your trunks and I was wonderin’ if I might be needed in here?”
