“Let’s take a walk in the park.” Lucy took her firmly by the arm and raised her to her feet.
“I should probably get changed…” Birdie murmured.
“Nonsense. Supper is in three hours. The children are busy, and the men are concocting whatever next improvement of Ashmore Hall. Grandmamma will sleep until supper. Gives us ample time to take a walk, the three of us. Alone.”
Arabella nodded and took Birdie’s other arm.
The three stepped out onto the veranda and walked towards the generous lake that graced the park of Ashmore Hall. It really was magnificent, even in autumn.
“I have a plan,” Lucy said, getting straight to the point.
“Oh no. I knew you were up to something.” Birdie groaned. “We always get into trouble every time you have a plan.”
“Pray tell, Lucy. You always come up with the best things.” Arabella had absolute faith in Lucy’s machinations.
“When I received Miss Hilversham’s letter about you, begging me to take you in—which, by the by, is the most ridiculous thing I ever received––you know I need no one’s letter to take any of my friends in? Not even Miss Hilversham’s, and you know how I love the woman to bits.”
Birdie nodded, a knot in her throat.
“So, as I was saying. Miss Hilversham merely confirmed that you were up to something. Arabella and I knew long ago that you were going to get yourself into trouble, didn’t we?”
Arabella nodded. “Oh, yes.”
“But how?”
“You sent that letter from Inverness if you recall.”
Birdie stared at her. Then slapped her forehead. “I did, didn’t I! I had forgotten about it.”
“It sounded ominous, like a goodbye letter, like you didn’t expect to see us again, you goose.” Lucy elbowed her.
“I wrote it in the last inn before going north. I daresay I felt rather uneasy about swapping with Cecily.”
Birdie had, of course, told her friends everything as soon as she’d arrived at Ashmore Hall.
“As I was saying, when I received Miss Hilversham’s letter, I knew you’d fallen in love.”
Birdie protested.
“No arguing. It is plain for everyone to see, isn’t it, Arabella?”
Arabella threw Birdie a sympathetic look and nodded. “You are suffering the pangs of love rather dreadfully, dear friend.”
Birdie felt a flush creep up her neck.
“So this man, this captain—”
“He’s a duke,” Birdie interrupted.
Lucy and Arabella exchanged glances. “Three friends, three dukes, and one wishing well. I say no more. I wonder when the fourth shows up? But I veer off-topic.”
Birdie merely looked at her, bewildered. “What are you saying?”
Lucy waved a hand. “No matter. We will never finish this conversation at this rate. Let me speak and you listen.”
“You certainly have become bossy since becoming a duchess,” Birdie grumbled.
“This duke you love,” Lucy said, and Birdie cringed. “He is in that castle in Scotland. He won’t forgive a girl’s prank and hasn’t written, or shown himself since you’ve left since when?”
