Phoebe’s heart plummeted. Since their mother died, she had vowed to protect Joanna and Ellen, had vowed to put their needs above her own, and the thought of hurting Joanna was more than she could bear.
“I must talk to her at once,” she gasped, clasping a hand to her chest as she hurried on, bursting into the manor like a woman possessed.
Fortunately, with the hour being so late, there was no one around to witness the frantic entrance, nor anyone to stop her and ask her if she was all right. If they had, she feared she might have crumbled there and then, cursing herself for permitting her dreams to become reality.
Daniel was right. He should not have kissed her, nor should she have kissed him back.
I am a grown woman of three-and-twenty. I should have known better!
Wiping the remaining tears from her eyes, terrified that Joanna might see the guilt in every stray droplet, she ascended the stairs at a clip, running toward Joanna’s bedchamber before she could let cowardice change her mind.
At the chamber door, Phoebe did not bother to knock. She slipped into the room beyond, edging carefully across the creaky floorboards until she reached the bed.
At Woodholme, Joanna and Ellen always slept side-by-side in the same bed, but as they had been given separate chambers at Westyork Manor, they had clearly decided it would be rude to refuse. Phoebe was grateful for that, for Ellen was the more perceptive of the twins—she would see her guilt immediately.
“Joanna?” Phoebe whispered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, hoping she did not scare her sister.
Joanna mumbled softly, sleeping on.
“Joanna, my sweet girl?”
Joanna stirred, cracking open one eye in drowsy surprise. “Is it morning already?” she croaked, her voice dry with sleep.
“No, sweet girl. I could not sleep,” Phoebe replied. “I have… been considering many things over the past few days, and I could not rest without speaking to you. Indeed, there is a pressing matter that we must discuss.”
Joanna eked open another eye. “Now? What time is it?”
“Two o’clock or thereabouts.”
“In the morning?” Joanna stared at Phoebe as if she was a madwoman, which Phoebe was not entirely sure she was not.
Phoebe nodded. “Just a quick discussion, then I shall leave you to your rest. Truly, if it was not important, I would not have dared to wake you up.”
“What is wrong?” Joanna pushed herself up into a sitting position, patting the empty space beside her. “Did you have a bad dream? I thought you had ceased having those.”
Phoebe smiled sadly. “Not a bad dream, just a… bad thought.”
“Can I rest my head on your lap while you talk, like we used to?” Joanna asked, surprising her with her sweetness.
It had been many years since Joanna had done that, though Phoebe supposed it was her fault for behaving like more of a mother than a sister.
Phoebe stretched out her legs. “Of course, you can.”
Joanna lay back down, resting her head in Phoebe’s lap, curling up under the coverlets as she had done when she was a child. As Phoebe carefully considered what to say next, she stroked Joanna’s light brown hair, hoping that her sister did not fall back asleep before she could say what needed to be said.
“Are you going to talk?” Joanna asked. “I do not mind if you are not going to. This is nice.”
Phoebe sighed. “Itisnice.” Her voice caught in her throat. “But there is also something I must… ask you.”
“Very well.”
“Do you… love Daniel?”
It still felt strange for Phoebe to use his given name. Too casual, too dangerous, even though he had given her permission to use it.
Joanna peered up at her sister. “Am I supposed to be honest, or am I supposed to say what you want to hear?”
“Be honest,” Phoebe urged, her heart hardly daring to beat. If Joanna said that she loved Daniel, it would make the guilt ten times worse.
