Arriving in a brightly lit sunroom with large potted plants in each corner, Gabriella smiled at the sight of the two young women who jumped to their feet with boisterous enthusiasm the moment they saw her. “My lady,” one of them burst out in jubilation, “you’ve come!” She hurried forward and instantly enfolded Gabriella in a tight embrace. “Thank ye.” Stepping back, eyes shimmering slightly with emotion, she said again, “Thank ye ever so much!”
“It’s my pleasure,” Gabriella said, unable to resist a wide smile in response to such forthright elation. She was also pleased to see a bit more color in their cheeks. “You needn’t be so formal though. Gabriella will suffice.”
“Then ye must call us Amelia an’ Juliette,” Amelia said, gesturing first to herself and then toward the petite brunette who stood behind her. The girl responded with a timid smile, immediately underscoring the difference between the two sisters. Both had chestnut-colored hair, though Amelia’s was slightly curly with a hint of copper, while Juliette’s was straight and slightly darker.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to see you both again,” Gabriella said. She glanced around. “I take it your brother will not be joining us?”
“Probably not. Said ‘e’d be takin’ lessons with ‘is valet an’ secretary,” Amelia said.
Gabriella breathed a sigh of relief, reassured by the knowledge that her nerves would not be subjected to the duke’s dashing looks and charming smiles today. “Well then, let’s get started, shall we?” She waited for Amelia and Juliette to sit so she could observe the way in which they moved. Both appeared to lack any semblance of grace as they strode across the floor, plopping down on chairs as though their feet had just been swept out from underneath them.
Gabriella exchanged an uneasy look with Anna, who responded with a teasing grin. “Good luck,” she whispered. “I think I’ll retreat to that corner over there.”
Envying her maid’s lack of inclination to participate, Gabriella turned toward her hostesses and quietly said, “We have a great deal of ground to cover before either one of you will be ready to venture out in public. You will have to speak precisely, without cutting your words in half, and you will have to move about gracefully. Additionally, we shall have to discuss a few subjects of importance, so that your conversational skills can be improved.” Setting her reticule aside on a small table, she offered them the book she’d brought. “I think this will be a useful reference guide.”
“Ye brought us a book?” Amelia asked, accepting the gift and turning it back and forth as she studied the gold-embossed leather cover.
A thought struck Gabriella and she suddenly asked, “You do read?” She hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might not until this moment.
But then the girls smiled, appeasing any concern she might have on that score. “Yes,” Juliette said. “Raphe taught us.”
“Raphe?”
“Our brother,” Amelia explained. “The duke?”
Gabriella felt her heart skitter a little.
Raphe.
What a perfectly suitable . . .
She gave herself a mental kick. “Lesson number one: you must always refer to a peer by his or her title when in polite society. Whenever you speak of your brother in the future, you should say ‘Huntley,’ or ‘the duke.’”
The sisters stared at her in dismay.
Gabriella sighed. “Perhaps I ought to begin by teaching you how to walk properly. She faced them with both hands at her sides. “Watch me carefully as I move toward that sofa over there. My back is straight with my head held high. As I walk, I step slowly, as though I have all the time in the world. A lady never rushes, you see, and now that I am here, I lower myself as though I am gradually sinking into a warm bath. Fluid movements, that is the key.”
Their eyes widened. “You look so weightless,” Amelia said. “Like a butterfly flittin’ about the room on a stream of air.”
Gabriella chuckled. “Thank you, but as easy as it may look, I can assure you that such grace took many hours of practice for me to perfect.” Endless hours, in fact, and with her mother constantly correcting her every move. “So I don’t want either of you to be discouraged by the length of time it might take for you to learn such skill.” She nodded toward Amelia. “Now you try. Go to the bellpull and ring for a maid to bring us refreshments—lemonade will do.”
Pressing her lips together, Amelia rose from her seat with exaggerated slowness, her body occasionally jerking from the strained effort. Once she was upright, she walked stiffly toward the bellpull. Her pace was decent enough, but her chin was too high and rather than give the velvet rope a gentle tug, she pulled on it as though she were ringing a church bell. “How did I do?” she asked Gabriella with inquisitive hopefulness.
“Err—” Unwilling to crush her spirits, Gabriella said, “That was a good start, but there is still a great deal of room for improvement.” She looked toward Juliette. “Let me see you try.”
As it turned out, Juliette was much more capable of elegant movement than her sister. Her diffidence, it seemed, served her well in that regard. But whenever she spoke, it was with a mumble that was virtually impossible to understand, her gaze never quite meeting Gabriella’s. A maid arrived to take their order of lemonade before departing once more with quick efficiency.
“Tell me more about your schooling,” Gabriella said once Juliette had resumed her seat. Knowing exactly what the girls had learned over the years would be useful since it would help form a picture of their level of education.
Amelia stared back at Gabriella for a moment, then eventually said, “We lived quite far from the nearest school, so we learned what we could at ‘ome. Our brother taught us our letters, ye know. He always insisted we educate ourselves as much as possible so we’d ‘ave a better chance at a proper future.”
Realizing she must be gaping at her, Gabriella sank back against the sofa, unsure of what to make of this puzzling bit of information. There was also something curious about the two sisters’ account. At no point did either of them mention the people with whom they’d allegedly lived. They only spoke of their brother and the influence he’d had on their education.
Recalling the duke’s own muddled version of his childhood and the vague mention of some distant relation somewhere close to the Scottish boarder, Gabriella decided that there was a good chance that the Duke of Huntley and his sisters were not at all what they seemed.
The maid returned, setting down a tray containing a glass decanter and three glasses before departing once more.
Deciding not to quiz the two women anymore, since they were beginning to look ill at ease, she got to her feet and asked them to do the same. “Let’s practice your walk again. We can take a turn of the room together and then I will show you how to pour a drink.”
