He paused then added, “We became friends after something happened in our second year. There was a storm—terrible wind, rain like knives—and I’d stayed out too late after fencing practice. I lost track of time. I slipped in the courtyard and hit my head on the stone steps. I might’ve lain there half the night if he hadn’t found me. Theo carried me all the way to the infirmary, and he didn’t say a word about it after. He simply behaved as if it were nothing. But it wasn’t.”
April blinked. “He carried you?”
“Through mud and sleet and a good half-mile stretch. I think he scared the poor headmaster half to death, marching in soaked and bleeding, dragging me behind him. From that day on, I think we both knew. That sort of loyalty doesn’t come twice.”
She looked down at her hands. “That sounds like the man his aunt described to me when I had tea with her.”
“Yes,” August said, his voice gentler now. “That’s Theo.”
April looked up from her milk to her brother. “Did he tell you what happened in his life?”
“Yes, he told me, but some stories don’t need to be told to be felt. You see it in the way he holds back. The way he speaks when he thinks no one is listening.”
“And you still believe he can make a good husband?”
August’s gaze turned serious. “He can. But only if you’re patient. And only if he lets you in.”
April nodded slowly and pushed a crumb across the table. “I don’t know how to reach someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
“Then don’t reach,” August said simply. “Wait. Let him come to you. And in the meantime, live honestly. He’ll see that.”
April was quiet for a long moment then she asked softly, “Do you think he’ll ever speak of it? The tragedy?”
“If anyone can coax it from him, it’s you.”
Is this tragedy about his parents?
Twenty-One
April stepped off the final stair and stopped short. The household was in motion. Maids swept the hallways with frantic precision, footmen bustled past with boxes and fabrics draped over their arms. Voices murmured from every direction. Something had happened.
She made her way to the drawing room, uncertain what she’d find. The moment she entered, she was nearly bowled over by May, who launched toward her with wide eyes and a crumpled sheet of paper.
“You’re in print!” May exclaimed. “Look!”
June and their mother were huddled on the settee, heads bent over another copy. May pressed hers into April’s hands.
The Duke of Stone Engaged!
After weeks of speculation, it has now been confirmed that Lady April Vestiere, one of the luminous Vestiere triplets, has accepted the hand of the famously elusive Duke of Stone. Sources claim the match is one of practicality and mutual benefit—yet London buzzes with speculation. Has the stone-hearted Duke finally found his match? Has Lady April warmed the coldest bachelor in the realm?
Their courtship has captivated the imagination of many, and now, with the engagement confirmed, all eyes are upon them. Is it a love match after all? Or will the Duke’s heart remain as untouchable as ever?
April looked up from the column as her mother spoke. “August told me this morning you had changed your mind. Good thing too. Had the gossip come out and there been no wedding, we’d have been a laughingstock.”
April managed a smile though it wobbled. Her throat felt oddly tight. A laughingstock. That was what they’d feared. Not heartbreak. Not uncertainty. Scandal.
May hugged her from one side, June from the other.
“We’re going to have a wedding in the family!” May squealed. “First among the three of us. You’ve raised the stakes, sister.”
Dorothy stood and began pacing. “We must begin preparations at once. The invitations must be drawn up, the church informed for the reading of the banns. And your trousseau, April—wemust have your measurements taken again. The modiste must be summoned immediately.”
“You’ll need new slippers,” June chimed in. “And gloves. The pale ivory ones.”
“Pearls,” May added. “I think pearls will suit you best.”
They fluttered around her, a chorus of cheer and plans, while April sat silently, the gossip sheet still in hand. Her name. His title. Public speculation laid bare. It was real now, impossibly so.
