“Before Perth and Lenora were even born,” the dowager interrupted, “your mother and I made an agreement of sorts. Oh, we never took quill to parchment. But an oath between friends is more binding than any written contract.”
“What kind of oath?” Eloise asked, intrigued despite herself.
“If one of us had a boy, and the other a girl, then we were convinced our children should marry.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you the reason–?”
“No, no.” The dowager clucked her tongue. “Catherine and Ididtry to push those two together, but we might as well have mixed oil and water. While I’d like to take credit, it wasn’t until this past summer that they saw each other in a new light, and that was all of their own doing. But while your mother is gone, and I’ve no other sons, I should like to keep my oath.”
Eloise didn’t like the sound of that.
She didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“Wouldn’t you look at the time,” she burst out. “I really should be going.” But when she tried to dart past, the dowager whipped her arm out with astonishing speed and grabbed her by the elbow, thin fingers squeezing down to bone.
“I am going to find you a husband, Eloise. It’s what Catherine would have wanted.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she wanted me to eat only the blue macarons, or invent a modern contraption that washes dishes, or join the circus, or–”
“An oath is an oath,” the dowager said firmly. “Now, tell me what you’re wearing to the Edgemont Ball…”
5
Damsels & Knights
The morning of theEdgemont Ball dawned crisp and cool; a subtle reminder that while summer was on the horizon, autumn was waiting right behind it. Eloise woke with her usual explosion of energy and was already onto her second plate of sausage, poached eggs, and roasted potatoes by the time Annabel and Bridget, both yawning and rubbing their eyes, wandered into the drawing room for breakfast.
“How long have you been awake?” Annabel asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the side table, splashed in a pitiful amount of cream, and selected a small pastry from the small mountain of heavenly smelling croissants, scones, and crumpets.
Eyeing her sister’s plate before glancing at her own, Eloise just shook her head and took a big bite of sausage.
“Hawf-past-sweven,” she said, her mouth full.
“Chew your food,” Annabel scolded, her nose wrinkling. “That’s disgusting.”
“Eatmore food.”
“Don’t tell me–”
“Can we please save the fighting for afternoon tea?” Bridget pleaded as she purposefully took the open seat in-between her squabbling sisters. “I cannot listen to it on an empty stomach. It’s not good for my digestion.”
“Annabel started it,” Eloise muttered, poking at her egg.
At this point, sparring with Annabel was as natural as breathing. Of all the siblings, they were the furthest apart in demeanor and that difference inevitably led to disagreements large and small. An annoyance for most, but on some level, at least for Eloise, it was a comfort. She may not have been able to discuss the latest fashion trends and Annabel would never climb a tree for fear of breaking a nail, but in a way, fighting had become their chosen means of communication.
“Maybe,” said Bridget, scooting her chair inward, “but since Lenora isn’t here, I’m finishing it.”
“WhereisLenora?” asked Eloise, as she hadn’t seen her sister since last night.
After another family dinner, everyone had retired early to their rooms in preparation for the Edgemont Ball. Bridget and Graham were staying over in a guest suite (they’d sent the children ahead to Crofton Manor in the care of their nanny), Ezra was across the hall from Annabel (as if anyone believed he intended to stay there), and even the Dowager Duchess had taken up temporary residence.
Tomorrow it would be a race out of the city; people in one carriage and all of their trunks stuffed inside another. But until that sweet day of escape from the city’s crowded streets and bustling parks, there was one final awful, terrible, no-good night to get through.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Eloise would rather jump into a pit of hissing vipers than walk into the Edgemont Museum. Yes, the architecture was a marvel, with towering columns and walls filled with paintings and twisting, hidden corridors. But the guests…the guests dressed up like dolls in whatever ridiculous theme the dowagers had selected…were evenworsethan vipers.
At least when a poisonous snake bit you, you didn’t have long to live.
A few minutes, an hour at most, a little convulsing, and then you croaked.
