“She’s head over heels for you.” Caroline grinned. “At least she was last summer.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why am I not surprised you didn’t notice?”
Reed pursed his lips. What the devil was his sister talking about? “Be serious.”
“At the house party? She practically followed you everywhere,” Caroline prompted.
Reed had attended his cousin’s engagement celebration reluctantly and kept himself busy with correspondence most of the time. He vaguely remembered that the younger sister had been allowed to attend formal dinners.
She’d hardly spoken a word, dressed in an abundance of pastels and pink and an obnoxious amount of lace. She had seemed very, very young.
But she’d changed over the course of the past ten months.
“She rarely let you out of her sight.” Caroline shook her head. “I almost felt sorry for her and would have, if she didn’t exhibit such good taste.”
“Ha,” Reed responded, shaking his head at his sister’s compliment. Because of course she would say that. “But I don’t see how this has anything to do with me marrying her sister.”
“Did she flirt with you while you were there today?”
“What? Not at all.” But she had been sweet. She’d treated him with almost lavish politeness. “She was rather kind, actually.” She’d asked him to stay for tea, but he’d ignored the invitation.
In fact, she’d been more than willing to listen to his troubles.
And he’d been…
Distracted by the devastating blow she’d served up.
Caroline sat very still but Reed could practically hear her brain as it began devising some scheme.
“That newspaper man…” she began.
“Lord Helton.” Reed narrowed his eyes.
“He said you must marry Crossings’ daughter, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Did he specifically say that you needed to wed Lady Gardenia?”
Reed recalled the meeting he’d had at the Domus Emporium the day before. “Her name was the one mentioned in the article.”
“But when saying you must marry Crossings’ daughter, did he say Lady Gardenia specifically?”
Reed scowled. They had not. But still—
“Do you have the special license with you?”
Reed had, in fact, optimistically brought it with him to the duke’s townhouse. Oh, how misguided he’d been to even entertain the thought that his quest would be fulfilled so easily. He pulled it out of his jacket and handed it to his sister.
Reading it, she bit her lip and then met his gaze.
“The name of the bride is blank.” Caroline sounded far too cunning. The same as whenever she plotted some ill-fated scheme.
“Surely you aren’t suggesting…?”
“Lady Marigold is the duke’s daughter. And marrying her, although not as scandalous as if you were to marry her sister, would be almost as interesting to the Gazette’s readers…”
