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“’Tis Allie.”

Gillian’s throat went dry. “What is it?”

Morgan’s already thin lips disappeared as she pursed them together. Whatever she had to say was not something that came easy for her. Gillian held her breath.

“Allie has been promised to Covington.”

Nay, not that. Never that. She’d barely allowed herself to fear it.

“My lady, did you hear me?”

“There must be some mistake. She’s much too young. Covington specifically asked—”

“For your hand in marriage, aye. My lord reminded him so. He said—”

“Wait, Father spoke to Covington?”

“Aye, my lady.”

Morgan’s hands were no longer folded neatly on her lap. Gillian could not stop looking at them.

“He arrived at nearly the same time as your father. He already knew of your wedding.”

Morgan stopped, and Gillian looked her straight in the eyes.

“He was not pleased,” Morgan said.

Gillian didn’t ask how Morgan knew all of this. Her maid was well liked and resourceful. If any member of the household at Lyndwood knew something, Morgan knew it too.

“Oh, Allie.” Her heart hurt to think of her lovely, perfect sister attached to such an old man. Though Gillian had said her sister was much too young to marry, she knew, of course, that was not exactly true. At ten and nine, the only reason she was not already promised to someone was because of her father’s insistence that Gillian marry first, as was the custom.

This could not be happening.

“Your father and Covington argued something fierce,” Morgan continued, warming to her topic. “And the very next day, the same day I left for Highgate, the betrothal was announced.”

“When?” She had to stop it. Somehow she had to stop it. The thought of her sister married to that man . . .

“The first of June, my lady. ’Tis said the earl did not wish to wait so long, but he finally relented.”

“And Allie?”

Morgan shrugged. “Lady Allie was, well, Lady Allie.”

Which meant she had accepted the decree in public, as Gillian had done, and cried foul in private. Neither of them would dishonor their parents, but Allie was more likely to put up a fight. To what end? Her mother would certainly not approve of the betrothal, just as she had not wished for Gillian to wed Covington, which had become fully clear at Kenshire. Unfortunately, however, only one person’s orders mattered in Lyndwood.

The baron’s.

She and Allie and their mother obeyed him in all things, even if they disagreed.

Allie would eventually fall into line and do as she was told. Lyndwood would be saved, but at what cost?

Nay. I will not allow it.

“There is still time,” she said, thinking aloud.

The door opened after a quick knock. Gillian waved the serving girl inside.

“Time for what?” Morgan asked, looking longingly at the wooden tray laden with food.