Chastity leaned forward, resting her forehead briefly against Hazel’s shoulder. “You make everything seem possible.”
Hazel held her close. “It is because you already have the strength. You simply needed to see it yourself.”
Patience sniffed, wiping her eyes. “Hazel… we want to ask you something.”
Hazel nodded curiously. “Anything.”
Chastity took Patience’s hand, and together they looked at Hazel with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. “Will you help us with our Seasons?” Chastity asked softly. “Not as before, not because you must, and certainly not because Mama expects it.” Her voice steadied. “But because you are our sister, and we would feel steadier if you were there.”
Patience nodded fervently. “We don’t want you to carry us, Hazel. We just… want you with us.”
Hazel didn’t even have to think.
“Yes,” she smiled. “Without the slightest doubt.”
Her sisters hugged her from both sides, laughing and crying all at once, and Hazel felt something quietly settle inside her. This was what she had wanted all along: not to abandon them, not to sever ties, but to love them without being their guardian, their shield, their second mother. She simply wanted to be their sister.
Once the tears were dried and the apologies properly felt, the three sisters settled together on the settee, with their skirts spilling like pastel blossoms across the cushions.
Chastity dabbed her eyes one last time, then straightened with dramatic dignity. “Well, enough crying. It is terribly unflattering for my complexion.”
Patience rolled her eyes. “You cried for half an hour yesterday over a missing ribbon.”
“That ribbon matched my slippers,” Chastity said with utter seriousness.
Hazel laughed. “There she is. I wondered how long the new mature Chastity would remain before the old one resurfaced.”
Chastity gasped in mock offence. Patience giggled. And just like that, the room was alive again with familiar sisterly teasing.
They talked about Belvington Manor, about minor scandals Hazel had missed, about London shops and which ones were absolute thieves disguised as dressmakers. Hazel relaxed, leaning back as her sisters animatedly filled every corner of the room with chatter.
Chastity fluttered her hands as she spoke. “And you simplymustsee the gown Madame Bellerose made for me. It is exquisite, Hazel, she is a miracle worker. Silk the color of spring violets.”
“It cost a fortune,” Patience added helpfully.
“It cost afairprice,” Chastity corrected, with her nose in the air. “Besides, I needed something beautiful for the last garden party. All the other girls looked stunning, and I… I wished to feel a bit stunning myself.”
Hazel smiled warmly. “You have always been stunning. You hardly need French silk to prove it.”
Chastity preened. “Well, a little doesn’t hurt.”
Patience nodded sagely. “It helps especially when one wishes to attract a certain someone.”
Chastity froze in mid-sip of her tea.
Hazel blinked. “A certain someone?”
Patience gasped, realizing what she had just said. “Oh… oh dear. That slipped out.”
Chastity nearly dropped her teacup. “Patience!”
Hazel’s interest brightened. “What slipped out?”
Patience clasped her hands over her mouth, but her eyes sparkled. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
Chastity groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It wasoneconversation.”
Hazel leaned forward, gentle but curious. “A conversation… with whom?”
