Samuel, do not be mad, but Felicity is safe at home in London. She never left. You will want to send us to the country for the rest of our lives, I’m sure, but we were desperate, you must understand. Glenna has tired of watching you and Lady Emma stare longingly across rooms at one another. And Felicity says she cannot concentrate on her own suitors when Lady Emma is so very sad all the time. And I do not like to see you sad, either, Brother. It has been over a fortnight since either of you has spoken to one another. And (here comes another reason for you to rage—brace yourself, Brother) we read your letters to one another and how you feel.
We thought you might start courting Emma after Lady Huxley rejected you, but you did not. This was the only way we could think to force you together. Briar suggested we send you out to the middle of the Thames in a boat without a paddle. And Gertrude thought locking you in a linen closet would suffice, but I convinced them this was the best route. Less likely to die than in the Thames and no servants to interfere and set you free.
I hope you discover this note in your pocket later rather than sooner, and I hope, when you arrive back home, it is together and never wishing to part.
Happy courting, Brother,
Your nefarious June Beetle
Emma tossed the letter to the window seat with a growl. “Those… those…” What word did one use? “Those schemers!”
“I cannot believe they could do this.” Angry strides took him from one side of the room to the other and back. “Do they have no common sense?”
She joined him, pacing in the opposite direction at the same time. “They lied!”
“Tricksters.”
“Connivers!”
They stopped, facing one another. “Sisters,” they said at the same time.
“Clearly, we failed somewhere along the way.” Samuel shook his head, jaw tight.
“You, perhaps. But I blame my father.”
“Do they ever think of what we sacrifice for them?” He started pacing once more.
“Not a moment, I’m convinced. They do not think how we suffer.” She paced again, too.
“Never. Think they can move us about like little toy soldiers, like characters in those books of theirs.”
“Go there.” She threw her arms out wide.
“Do that.” He stomped.
“Ruin yourself with him.”
“Marry her. They think they can order… us… to…” Samuel slowed his pacing, coming to a gradual stop. He reached out to the wall to steady himself, keep himself upright, and his gaze slammed into Emma’s. “Felicity is safe. Dear God. Felicity isnotdriving through rain and darkness at the side of some scoundrel to marry over an anvil. She’ssafe.”
Emma’s legs gave out, her hands folding over her chest. “Thank heavens.” Relief nearly pulled her to the ground, but she threw herself at Samuel instead, hugging him, using his strength to hold herself up, and mumbling into his chest, “She’s safe,” to convince her vibrating body of the truth.
He held her tightly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “What a nightmare.”
“But over. It’s over. She’s safe.”
He grunted. “Might not be when we return to London.Your Nefarious June Beetle. Nefarious is right. Ishouldlock them up in the country.”
“Allof them. Well, half of them in Edinburgh, but—”
“No.” He loosened his hold on her enough to peer into her face. “Not Edinburgh. Let them remain in London and be my sisters, too. Let you be… mine.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “I know it is a gamble for you, but I will try to make it worth it. Every day I will try.”
“You want… you welcome all of us?” Her father had always considered them too many, too much, too loud, too irritating. She’d not felt wanted in a very long while, but there it was in Samuel’s eyes—welcome, wanting, an offer of a home and loving heart.
He cupped her face and dropped his forehead against hers, the corner of his lips hitching up. “I’m a man with eight sisters, what’s three more?”
“Four more. My sister Elizabeth is already married.”
“That’s a boon. Quite convenient. Four more, then, for a full dozen. You do realize you’d have twelve then, too. Your number would grow much more substantially than mine by an addition of eight.”
