“I did not sleep,” Arabella said flatly. “Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lady Calderwick’s face.”
Eleanor smiled faintly. “She was particularly animated.”
“That is not amusing.”
“No,” Eleanor agreed. “It is not.”
Arabella turned toward her, eyes sharp with restrained emotion. “You should not go out today.”
Eleanor stilled. “What?”
“The garden party,” Arabella said. “You should lay low. At least for a few days. Let things settle.”
Eleanor shook her head. “That would defeat the point.”
“The point,” Arabella said, her voice rising despite herself, “is that you lied to half thetonin one evening.”
“I managed,” Eleanor corrected gently.
“You tempted fate.”
“I redirected it.”
Arabella stood abruptly, pacing. “What if someone sends to verify it? What if Father hears something amiss?”
“Father will hear what suits him,” Eleanor said. “A duke’s name smooths many irregularities.”
Arabella stopped. “You speak as though this is a game.”
“It is not,” Eleanor said quietly. “That is why I must not retreat now.”
Arabella looked at her, then away. “You should have told me sooner.”
Eleanor reached for her hand. “I am telling you now. And I promise you this will not touch you. That is all that matters.”
Arabella’s fingers curled around hers. “You always say that.”
“And it has always been true.”
A sharp voice carried down the corridor. Charlotte again.
Eleanor rose. “I must go.”
Arabella hesitated. “So you will attend to the garden party?”
“I am planning to, yes.”
“And I should just –”
“You should just go along with it.”
Arabella exhaled. “You are impossible.”
Eleanor smiled. “You love me.”
“That is my misfortune.”
Eleanor kissed her sister’s cheek and slipped out before the conversation could turn again.
