“That didn’t sound like you were happy,” Somer teased her.
“Of course I am. I love that you have both found the men that were fated for you.”
“Thank you,” Somer said.
“I think Zachariel Deville is the man for me,” Samantha said. “Now you are both taken, I have a chance there.”
“Possibly, but then unless he has Sinclair blood, I doubt it.”
“I don’t need to wed a Sinclair. There are enough of you married to each other already.”
The twins laughed.
“We thought that, but it’s your destiny,” Dorrie said.
“Warwick is the man for you,” Somer said.
CHAPTERTWENTY
“Ibeg your pardon?” Shocked, she stared at her friends.
“You know Warwick. Our brother.” Dorrie had a smug look on her face.
“You cannot be serious?” She looked from one to the other. Neither were smiling. “He… we, don’t be ridiculous. We are like siblings.”
“Are you still like siblings?” Somer asked. “Because I feel like that may have changed since you left us.”
“I did not leave you. I was studying art!”
“No need to raise your voice. We are right here, as we were five minutes ago,” Dorrie said. She leaned closer, studying Samantha’s face. “Are you blushing?”
Somer did the same. “I think she is.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Samantha hissed. She strode away from them. Well, stomped actually. “This conversation is over and silly.” As if her life was not turned on its head already, the twins were now adding to that.
But you’ve been thinking what they have lately.
“If you say so,” Somer said, following. “But he has saved you, and I think something happened between you on the return journey from Wales.”
“Shut up,” Samantha gritted out.
“No need to get testy.” Dorrie looked as smug as her sister did. “Don’t you think she’s testy, Somer?”
“I am not testy, and what you said was foolish.”
“Apologies. Forget we said anything,” Somer said.
“You are right. How silly of us,” Dorrie added.
“We must have gotten things wrong and seen what wasn’t there,” Somer said.
“Exactly. Now we are here and do not have much time. So… so, control yourselves.”
“Yes, Samantha,” they said together with a show of meekness that fooled no one.
The brothel was in an area of London that businessmen frequented, hence they’d said it was their old tutor they were seeing. That story had seemed the most plausible, as they’d used it before, and the area was clean and tidy with no scoundrels lurking in corners. At least Samantha hoped they weren’t.
Warwick was absolutely not her Sinclair.
