While Wolfe tended to agree, he feared Lady Longmorten’s avarice knew no boundaries. “It would be far better if Lady Margaret chose to sever our betrothal, both for her reputation and mine.”
Sissy sadly shook her head. “We can’t help you there. Lady Longmorten plans to be rid of us, so we won’t be a bovver to her and Lady Margaret no more. She considers us deposable.”
“Do you meandisposable?” Wolfe tightened his fists until his knuckles popped. “Did you overhear the woman say that?”
Sissy shook her head. “Didn’t have to—she told us straight out.”
“And she did saydisposable,” Connor said with a nod at his sister. “She made Sissy cry that day.”
Wolfe now found himself fully agreeing with Lady Grace regarding children feeling safe enough to speak their minds. He would not have his brother and sister mistreated. “Whenever anyone says or does anything unkind to either of you, you are to tell me immediately.”
“That was the night of that party you let Lady Longmorten give at our house in London. Mrs. Havarerry said you was too busy, and we should try not to think about it.” Sissy tipped a despondent shrug. “Sometimes it’s hard to get to see you.”
“Not anymore. I shall address that issue with Miss Hannah, Mrs. Havarerry, and Feebson as soon as we get back.”
“Lady Grace might could help us,” Connor said with a thoughtful nod. “She’s wily enough to think of a way for us to be rid of those two. I’m thinking Lady Margaret might not mindleaving. Maybe that would make her happy. It’s old Longface that’s the problem.”
“Connor—remember what I said about choosing your words more carefully?”
“Sorry.” The boy pulled a face. “I thought it would be all right to speak my mind, since it was just us three.”
“It is always all right for you to speak your mind when we are in private. However, if you become too comfortable with inappropriate words, you might forget and use them in public.”
“Inappropriate words?” Connor wrinkled his nose.
“Rude words, Connor, for heaven’s sake.” Sissy shook her head. “Even though Lady Margaret’s mother is a mean old woman, that does not make it all right for us to be rude and make up names about her.” She smiled up at Wolfe. “Right?”
A weary sigh escaped him. “Correct, Sissy. Absolutely correct.”
Chapter Five
“Extortion is avery ugly habit,” Grace whispered to Joy as they pretended to listen to Serendipity’s elaborate plan of attack for the annual picnic.
“Quite a necessary habit in this family,” Joy replied. “And you very well know it.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Serendipity swooped in closer, singling them out. With a petulant stomp of her foot, she pointed at them. “Not only did you shirk every responsibility by traipsing off to the village, you came home empty-handed after promising to find presents for little Rorie and Quill. I mean, really! And now you can’t even show me the common courtesy of listening to all I have in mind.”
“You deserted us,” Felicity whispered to Grace as she offered a tray of petite sandwiches. She angled herself so their irritated eldest sister couldn’t see her face and gave a long-suffering roll of her eyes. “Try these,” she said, loud enough for all to hear. “They are my latest recipe. I thought to help Cook prepare them for the picnic. Seri does not like any of them.”
“I simply told you those were not exactly what I had in mind,” Serendipity said, then turned back to Grace and Joy. “Well? What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“Next time,” Merry whispered from behind them, “take me with you.”
“I heard that,” Serendipity told her.
Merry gave an exasperated snort and sagged back into her seat as if trying to disappear.
“Forgive us, Seri,” Grace said in a placating tone that almost choked her. “We got so caught up in visiting with Mr. Herbert and Mrs. Beatrice, whose hearing is becoming sadly impaired, I fear, but don’t make mention of it, by the way—”
“You are babbling, Grace Elena Daisy Abarough.” Serendipity glared at her. “You only babble when lying. Confess now and disarm Joy. You know she will use whatever you are hiding as a way to get whatever she wants.”
“Seri!” Joy fired off an indignant huff. “You are so insulting.”
“Yes—but am I incorrect?” Serendipity arched a brow to a lofty angle, then turned back to Grace. “Disarm her, Gracie. For your own sake as well as ours. The truth, if you please.”
A knock on the door of the sisters’ shared parlor provided a much-needed interruption. Grace wiggled in the uncomfortable chair that was sorely in need of thicker padding and new upholstery. Unfortunately, the sisters had yet to agree on a style or color for freshening the look of their private sitting room that linked their bedrooms and dressing room. Since each of them stubbornly clung to their favorite colors, the parlor remained decorated in the same faded yellow florals their mother had chosen well before Merry and Felicity were born, and the upholstery was almost threadbare.
“A delivery from Mettlestone’s,” Walters, their ancient butler, announced as soon as Serendipity opened the door.
