We walked silently, side by side, back to the car.
Bartholomew had made an effort to follow us but either got distracted or too tired halfway, so he joined us at that point and accompanied us the rest of the journey.
Chastity was in the back seat of the car.
Prudence was in the front.
Temperance was staring at me like, if I gave a single hint I didn’t have this, she’d tackle me.
I opened the driver’s side door and turned to her. “Burns the Bread. We have our instructions. But if those cookies are that good, and we eat them all on the way home, you only have yourself to blame for not coming.”
Temperance’s eyes rolled, but, even if it was a miniscule movement, I still saw her shoulders slump with relief.
Oh yes.
Chastity endured something awful.
Temperance then pushed beyond me to stick her head into the car and declare, “If no biscuits arrive with you on your return, there will be consequences.”
“We’ll buy loads so we can’t physically eat them all,” Prudence offered.
“This is acceptable,” Temperance said.
She pulled out of the car, but it was only me who saw, and obviously felt, when she grabbed my hand, gave it a firm squeeze and let it go.
If she was so worried, I didn’t understand why she wasn’t going with.
But then, when I climbed in, shut the door, and looked out the side window at Battle and Temperance standing there together, I did.
Battle and Temperance, the two strong ones, the two eldest, the two the others could lean on, needed the two who leaned on them to fly the coop.
On their own.
(Or, with me.)
And by damn, that was what they were going to do.
I started the car and opened my window.
“Any biscuit orders from you, Your Grace?” I asked.
At that, the muscle leapt across his whole cheek.
I smiled smugly.
“Battie likes their jam donuts,” Prudence said from beside me.
“Donuts it is,” I said. Then, “Ready, girls?”
“Ready!” Prudence cried.
Chastity said nothing.
“Tallyho!” I shouted and hit the gas.
Prudence giggled.
Chastity was silent.
