The other women nodded.
Emma stood. “We arenotmarrying.”
Lady Noble sighed. “Sit back down, Lady Emma, and tell us why you’re worried about our book club.”
“Hetoldher,” Andromeda said. “If he told her about the books, he must trust her. He’d never tell a soul.”
“And that is why I think they should marry.” Prudence scowled. “Why aren’t you? Is it because of the books?”
Answering might agitate these women, insult them even. “Oh, what a lovely painting.” Emma nodded at the massive family portrait over the fireplace. “I noted it the first day I met the duke here in his study. All of you were so young and—”
“Distractions,” Lottie said. “Answer please, Lady Emma.”
Why should she? She owed these women nothing. And she owed her sisters everything. And Samuel knew her reasons. Their two days together were done. Now to spend the rest of her life alone. She stood and pushed past them to stand right beneath the portrait. The young Samuel painted there was not yet a duke, and his shoulders had not yet become rigid with the weight of responsibility. That young man still had a father to learn from and a mother to adore and sisters to be friends with. Emma had enjoyed that once, too, had known the grief that came when she could no longer be her sisters’ friend but was forced to be their mother. A loss of girlhood, a loss of self. Samuel understood her reasons for sacrificing her happiness because he did the same, every day. For the women at Emma’s back.
“I would marry your brother if I were free to do so,” she admitted, still looking at the painting. “I cannot put my personal desires over my sisters’ futures and well-being.” She spun around, folding her hands together in front of her. “I admire your courage. And I have decided there is a benefit to the books you enjoy. Certainly, there is. But do not tell me there are no risks involved. How many times have you faced scandal?”
“And we have overcome it.” Lady Noble walked toward her, chin held high. “Each one of us in this room has had to face discovery, but we have also had to face the possibility of losing the affection and loyalty of the men we loved when they found out. If they had turned away, then they would not have deserved our love. But they have not. Will you be the first to retreat?”
“My sisters—”
“I have a brother-in-law, a young man who was only a boy when we met.” Mrs. Kingston twisted in her chair to wrap her hands around the arm. “And marrying me threatened my husband’s guardianship of him. But we survived, and the secret remained secret not merely because we love each other but because we’ve… created something of a wider family through our books, women who will fight for one another when necessary. We will fight for you, too. And your sisters. Why should you have to compromise? Why force yourself to choose? Love should be big enough to hold it all.”
Something inside Emma shattered. She grasped for it because it must be put back together, but the pieces were already disintegrating to ash, slipping through her fingers like sand. How long had it been since someone had fought for her? Not even Miss Dunn had believed her when Lord Parkington had attacked her. No one had. She’d been alone against the world, fighting to keep her reputation not for herself, but for her sisters.
“Do you think we do not care about our sisters?” Prudence asked. “We do, and we have worked hard to make sure they have happy futures. But I am not sure a happy future and spotless reputation are the same thing.”
“We were willing,” one of the twins said, “to let our secret out last year to keep Samuel from being forced into an unhappy marriage. Have you asked your sisters what they are willing to do for you?”
Emma made for the door. “I need fresh air.” She found her sisters across the hall. “It is time we return to Lady Macintosh. Come along.”
They said their goodbyes with long faces and followed her out of the house. She led them around the square garden instead of through it. Its center reminded her too much of moonlit kisses, and with something very much like her resolve having crumbled, she possessed no more defenses, was raw and vulnerable to those things her heart wanted most.
Halfway around the garden, she stopped, and her silent ducklings crashed into her with curious glances.
“I’ve lost my reputation,” she said.
“Not yet.” Glenna clung to her arm. “No one knows yet, and they might never know.”
“Not that. In Scotland. It’s one reason I dragged everyone to the country early after last Season, why I was so eager to get everyone out of Edinburgh.” She told them about Lord Parkington, about the cold backs at the assembly rooms.
“We know.” Diana rubbed a line into the dirt at her feet.
“Pardon?” The falling feeling that had been tumbling through Emma stopped, and she hit the ground hard.
“We all know,” Glenna said. “We have since last Season, but since you did not speak of it, neither did we.”
Emma tipped her face to the sky, blinking back tears. “I am so sorry. But I will not put your reputations at risk again. I swear to you.”
“We wish you would.” Briar sounded indignant.
So, Emma dropped her gaze to her sister, wiping a tear from her eye. “Pardon?”
“I do not wish to marry anyone who would turn his back on you for something you did not do.” Briar twisted her mouth to the side. “And if you are married, then Father cannot marry you off.”
“We thought being compromised with the duke,” Diana said, “whom you actually seem to like, might be better than letting Father choose your fate. Better for us, too.”
“If you’re married to Clearford,” Glenna added, “then we can stay in London with Aunt Georgie. Perhaps I can be her companion when she’s older. Since I will not wed.” She fussed with the edge of her pelisse.
