Lady Whitby had sent a reply, which Gwendolyn had dutifully carried up to Elise. She had been instructed to shove the letter under the bedroom door. For a while, Dara had lingered on the stairs, listening to Gwendolyn attempt to talk sense into Elise. Gwendolyn was the peacemaker in the family. As a half sister, she’d earned the trust of Dara and Elise when they had their occasional quarrels.
Although this was something different from a disagreement over petty issues. This was about who the sisters were, their roles, and expectations, the loyalties they owed each other.
Then, Elise came down the stairs holding her bag. A distraught Gwendolyn followed right on their sister’s heels. “Where are you going?”
“That is no longer your concern,” Elise informed her haughtily. She dropped her bag inthe hall, right where everyone in the sitting room could see her, to pull on her gloves. She already wore her bonnet and pelisse.
“Of course it is my concern. I’m your sister. You live here,” Gwendolyn answered.
“Then I absolve you of all responsibility for me,” Elise declared. So dramatic, so ridiculous.
Dara closed her book and came to her feet. The open doorway gave her the impression she was watching some sort of terrible play. Elise didn’t even look in her direction, and Gwendolyn was completely focused on their youngest sister. Dara started to move forward. Gwendolyn shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of Elise’s temper alone.
At her movement, Elise confronted her.“Don’t come close. Don’t speak, not even one word.”
Dara stopped, taken aback by the revulsion in her sister’s voice.
Elise threw back her shoulders. “You didn’t evenlikehim.”
“He wants to protectusfrom—” Dara started to say in her defense.
“And you think that makes it better?How selfish are you?”
The accusation crippled Dara. She’d been raised to think of her sisters first. On her deathbed, Gram had charged her to take care of them. And she’d promised...
Gwendolyn eyes were alight with fury as she said, “Elise, you go too far—”
“He was mine, Dara,” Elise said as if Gwendolyn hadn’t spoken. “The one,only one, I wanted. Andyouget him? You, who know very little of his politics or what stances he has taken? Or what an admirable, noble man he is? Why, he doesn’t evenlookat you the way he looks at me—”
“Elise,”Gwendolyn snapped.
Dara held up a hand, conscious that Tweedie now also stood, her expression one of grief. “It’s all right, Gwendolyn. What Elise says is true. Mr. Brogan has been quite taken with Elise, as most men are. She is far more attractive than I am. You both are.”
“That is not true,” Gwendolyn replied. “And beauty is as beauty does.”
She shot that last at their youngest sister, who ignored it... because Elise was caught up in self-righteous anger. It was a dangerous place. Dara knew; she’d spent time there more than once.
Elise made an impatient sound. “Stop criticizing yourself, Dara, or holding yourself up to us in comparison. You are as lovely as Gwendolyn and me. This has nothing to do with looks. I’m angry because you don’t know what a good man he is—”
“You are wrong—”
“—He never fit your ideal. You are clueless about anything beyond your senseless rules—”
“That is not true—”
“—Then again,” Elise spoke over her, “you are obviously willing to break every one of themwhen it savesyoufrom disgrace. After all, what rule is there that says you steal the man your sister loves?”
“Youcan’tlove him,” Dara countered, stung again by Elise’s claims. “You barely know him—”
“And you know him better...?”
She did. She had kissed him. But before Dara could lash back and say something that would truly be unwise, Tweedie interrupted them.
“Stop this.”She pounded her frail hand on the side table, demanding they pay attention to her. “Scratching each other’s eyes out won’t make this better. Elise, she didn’t plan on Mr. Brogan making an offer.”
“What choice did he have?” Elise countered. “Once his name was linked to her disgrace, he had to do what is honorable. He is trying to saveherreputation even though it isherfault all the rumors are going around.”
Gwendolyn choked on her exasperation. “Her fault? That she rescued a child and small minds are ripping her to shreds? What would you have her do? Let the child drown? She couldn’t do that. None of us could do that. Not after—” She paused, glanced at Dara, and then said, “Not after what happened that day in Wicklow.”
