It was, and yet she couldn’t recall the last time she’d shared anything with Charlotte. It had been weeks. Perhaps she shouldn’t have lied to her sister about Julian West. If she’d been honest from the start . . .
No. There was no sense in regret, especially not now. She turned her attention back to Amelia. “What kinds of things would you show her?”
Amelia considered it. “All sorts of things, like the garden here at Lindenhurst, and how to ride a horse, and I’d take her for a lemon ice at Gunter’s.”
“Those are just the kinds of things a little sister would enjoy, I think. A friend would enjoy them, too, so perhaps we should go to Gunter’s together for lemon ices when we return to London.”
Foolish of her, to promise such a thing to the child, when not half an hour ago she’d threatened to expose Amelia’s secrets to theton. Cam may never let her see Amelia again after they left Lindenhurst.
But it was difficult to care how foolish it was when the promise made such a smile bloom on Amelia’s face. “Truly? Just you and me?”
No matter what else might happen, Eleanor vowed to herself she would have lemon ices with Amelia at Gunter’s. “Just you and me.”
Amelia bounced up and down on the bed. “I wish we could go back to London now!”
“When you wake up tomorrow morning, it’s only one more day until we do.”
To Eleanor’s surprise, Amelia frowned. “I suppose you’ll send me to bed now.”
“Do you? I’m not sure why.”
“Because grownups always talk about going to sleep right before they send you to bed.”
Eleanor chuckled. “I daresay they do, but I won’t send you to bed if you don’t wish to go. Aren’t you tired, though?”
“Just a little.” Amelia ran her hand back and forth across the coverlet. “I’ll go soon, but before I do, won’t you tell me a bit about what you and Lady Charlotte used to do when you were little girls? Then I’ll know what to do if I ever have a younger sister.”
Eleanor hesitated. “Goodness, we did so much, I hardly know where to start.”
Amelia knew, however. “Start with how you used to brush each other’s hair.”
That startled a laugh from Eleanor. “Brush each other’s hair? Where did you get the notion that sisters brush each other’s hair?”
“From the Mowbray sisters,” Amelia said, as if everyone in their right mind should know perfectly well who the Mowbray sisters were.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “And who would they be?”
Amelia giggled. “Oh, they’re Lord and Lady Mowbray’s grandchildren. The Mowbray’s estate borders Lindenhurst, you see. Their grandchildren come twice a year to visit, and Lady Mowbray brings them here to play with me. Aunt Mary says she does it to get them off her hands, for they’re quite naughty, you know.”
“Are they, indeed?”
“Oh, yes. There are three of them, and they’re forever squabbling over one thing or another. But Adele Mowbray told me they brush each other’s hair every night. They used to kick up such a fuss over having their tangles brushed out, one evening their maid threw the brush across the room and refused to do it ever again.”
Eleanor choked back a laugh. “I can’t say I blame her.”
“Me, either. So now they do each other’s. I asked Adele if it was wretched, but she said no. She said it was quite nice, and the only time all three of them can be together without fighting.”
“They sound awful.”
“Oh, they are. But you see, sisters do brush each other’s hair.” Amelia eyed Eleanor’s coiled hair with interest. “I had it from Adele Mowbray herself, and she’d know.”
Eleanor, who had by now deduced the purpose of this conversation, reached over to tweak one of Amelia’s plaits. “But your hair is already brushed and bound.”
“Yours isn’t.”
Eleanor hid a grin. “Hmmm. So it isn’t. Amelia?”
“Yes?”
