I remain your ever-affectionate, though slightly aggrieved, sister,
April
April folded the parchment once the ink had dried, tapping her fingertip thoughtfully against the edge. She reached for the molten wax, her mind wandering.All gentlemen are dullexcept Stone. He somehow manages to be infuriating and fascinating at once.
Just as she pressed her seal into the wax, her bedchamber door burst open with enough force to rattle the inkstand.
“April!” May hissed, nearly tripping over her hem as she tumbled inside. “Someone saw you at King’s Theatre with the Duke of Stone last night!”
April spun in her chair, clutching the sealed letter to her chest. “Who?” she demanded.
May, cheeks flushed with excitement and still dressed in her evening dress from the ball, hurried forward. “I heard it at the ball tonight. Lady Chesterfield’s maid told a footman, who told—well, it scarcely matters! People know!”
The door clicked shut as June entered behind her, far more composed. She crossed her arms and raised a brow. “If word has spread already, Mama will not remain ignorant for long.”
April grimaced.Lord help me.“Did she—did Mama seem suspicious?”
May flung herself onto April’s bed, bouncing like a child. “She was very quiet in the carriage. Which, as you know, is a dreadful sign.”
June perched neatly at the foot of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. “It means she knows. Or is plotting.”
April began pacing, the hem of her nightdress getting in the way. “We must devise a plan.”
“We could say you recovered sufficiently to attend,” May suggested brightly, kicking off her slippers.
“No,” June said, her tone dry. “Lady Wilmot’s daughter dragged her along. That would be far more believable.”
April pressed a hand to her forehead. “Whatever we choose, it must sound credible. Mama would have me wed before the week is out.”
May grinned, devilry sparkling in her eyes. “And you object to marrying a devastatingly handsome duke because…”
April shot her a look. “That is hardly the point.”
“Is it not?” May teased, tossing a pillow at her.
April caught it and hurled it back. “He is impossible!”
“You like impossible,” June observed, smoothing her skirts with exaggerated calm.
“I do not,” April insisted though a traitorous voice whispered otherwise.You always have.
May leaned forward eagerly. “Come, tell us everything!”
Sighing, April perched on the edge of the bed and recounted her evening—the magnificence of the theatre, the stirring tragedy, her own helpless tears—and the Duke’s maddening indifference.
“He didn’t even blink?” May gasped, pressing her hands to her cheeks.
“Hardly,” April said, throwing up her hands. “I wept like a watering pot, and he sat there as still as a marble monument.”
“Perhaps he has no heart,” May suggested solemnly.
“Or,” June said thoughtfully, “he keeps it locked away where no one may touch it.”
May scooted closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Speaking of mysteries—I did some investigating!”
April narrowed her eyes. “Investigating?”
May nodded enthusiastically. “I made careful inquiries. Very discreet. And you know what I found?”
