“Utterly bucolic,” June murmured.
April smiled brightly, sipping her tea with exaggerated sweetness, pretending everything was sunshine and roses while inwardly plotting to burn every floral wreath within a mile of Wildmoore House.
After the meal, the butler approached and bowed low.
“A letter for you, Lady April.”
She accepted it with a murmured thanks, her heart leaping as she recognized August’s hand. Without a word, she fled up the stairs to the safety of her bedchamber.
She broke the seal with trembling fingers.
Dearest April,
Forgive me for not consulting you before the arrangement was made. It was a decision born unexpectedly but not lightly. There is no man I would trust more with your future than Theo. I know what the gossips say—ignore them. He is a man of honor though he hides it well. Trust that I would never give you into hands unworthy of you.
I miss you more than I can say. If I can find time away, I shall come to visit soon. Until then, keep your spirits high, and know you are dearly loved.
Your devoted brother,
August
April pressed the letter to her heart for a moment then laid it carefully on her dressing table. She sank onto the edge of her bed, her mind a swirling storm.
Society painted the Duke as dark and dangerous. Her brother—steady, wise August—painted him as trustworthy.
Who should I believe?
A voice inside whispered against the clamor:Do not be so foolish as to believe the tongues of society. Not when you have the truth from someone who loves you.
Still, the doubt remained, sharp and cold beneath her ribs.
Nine
“No, no, the lilies must be centered exactly,” Dorothy fretted, flapping her hands at a bewildered footman. “We cannot have the flowers lopsided, not when the Duke of Stone is coming.”
“I believe they look perfect, Mama,” April offered, stepping closer to inspect the arrangement.
Dorothy waved her off with an absent flick of her hand. “Nonsense. They must be precisely right. Move them a bit to the left.” A footman hurried forward to do that.
May leaned close to April and whispered behind her hand, “Your opinion is so highly prized.”
April bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Treasured,” she whispered back.
Dorothy turned sharply. “Did you say something, April?”
“Only that the lilies are a triumph, Mama,” April replied, managing a bright, dutiful smile.
“Of course, they are,” Dorothy said briskly and turned to the footman. “Now, make sure the seating cards are evenly spaced. Appearances are everything.”
May gave an exaggerated sigh of suffering, and April nearly choked, trying to smother her laughter. Footmen bustled about under Dorothy’s relentless direction, adjusting chairs, polishing silver, and laying out the crystal decanters. Servants hurried in and out with trays of linens and platters ready for inspection.
Smile, nod, be agreeable,April thought.Even as your life spirals spectacularly out of your control.
Seizing a moment when her mother was distracted by the precise folding of the napkins, April slipped away, escaping down the hall to the library.
The quiet of the room wrapped around her. She wandered toward the shelves, trailing her fingers across worn spines, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and old paper.
“Hiding?” June’s voice broke the silence.
