Samuel’s jaw dropped, his gaze went hazy, focusing on some unseeable point above their heads.
“Do you remember Annie’s former betrothed?” Prudence asked. “The man from Cornwall she used to write to?” Prudence paused for an answer, but when Samuel only continued to stare into the distance, slack jawed, she pushed onward. “They were never engaged. He supplied our books. He did for Mother, too. He still does. Imogen writes to him now.”
Samuel wobbled, reached for the nearest surface, found none, toppled into a crashing descent. The sisters rushed for him, caught him in twelve arms before he hit the floor, and helped him to the sofa near the fire.
“Tea,” Imogen cried. “We need tea. Or smelling salts.”
“I know it’s a shock,” Lottie said. “But now you know you are not obligated to ruin your life for us. We knew from the beginning the risks we took. But we wanted to take those risks.”
Andromeda knelt next to the sofa near Samuel’s head. “To feel closer to Mother.”
“To prove our worth.” Prudence hung over the back of the sofa and pushed a lock of hair out of Samuel’s eye.
“To learn,” Lottie said, “and banish the ignorance most would have us live in. I will not apologize for doing it. But I will do anything I can to keep it from hurting you. Let the world know. We are not afraid.”
Samuel pushed to sitting, and the sisters lurched back a step, as if his rising were an ocean wave shoving them backward. A wall of electricity seemed to grow around him, keeping them at a distance. “Yet it will impact me if others know. And June and Gertrude. Every damn one of you as yet unmarried.”
For a breath, they hung their heads.
For a breath, they felt the weight of guilt.
For a breath, Isabella did regret. All of it.
Each breath heavier than the last, filling her lungs with muck instead of air.
Imogen stepped through Samuel’s crackling electric wall. “When the secret is out, we will better know who courts us for us and not for you.”
Samuel stood, steadier than before. “I must think. Out, all of you.”
“Not until you promise not to marry Miss Haws,” Lottie said.
He ran a steady hand through his hair. “Iwillmarry her. Nothing has changed. I’ll do anything I must to keep your names in good social standing, to keep you happy. Now, leave.” Such finality there.
“What if we want you to be happy, too?” Prudence said.
He turned his back to them, looking at the large family portrait that had hung over the fireplace since their parents’ death. A mother and father, all eight daughters, and one son—smiling, happy. A moment of the past never to be repeated.
The sisters filed out of the room, setting defeated footsteps toward their mother’s old sitting room. They closed the door and draped themselves across various surfaces, unable to defeat the buzzing silence growing louder around them.
Finally, in a small voice, Prudence said, “We don’t even have all the books anymore. Gave them to Cora.”
“We’ve worked hard to keep Mother’s secret,” Lottie added.
“Oursecret.”
Andromeda leaned against the wardrobe that held their mother’s erotic books. She stroked a hand down one closed door.
“Everyone’s secret,” Isabella added. How many of theton’sladies had borrowed books from them? They’d kept the circle small, but theycould not control everyone’s tongue. Tongues liked to talk, a fact Isabella generally enjoyed.
“What do we do?” Felicity, sitting on the plush rug, dropped onto her back.
No one seemed able to answer that.
Isabella looked out the window. The passersby offered no answer, either. Each had a story eager to tell, and each would be more eager to hear another’s story, especially if it caused a scandal. Soon, the Duke of Clearford’s name would be on their lips. For his upcoming nuptials. Or his sisters’ names. For their disgrace.
Isabella did not care for herself. She wanted to marry, but what a rare thing to find a man who wanted to see a woman’s soul, who held her up as precious and loved her fully, with all the brightness of the sun. She would not settle for less.
She cared for her sisters. Yes, Lottie and Annie and Prudence would survive, buoyed by the love of their husbands. But Felicity had a romantic’s heart. And Imogen… hadn’t she recently implied she had formed a tendre for some unknown man? Gertrude. June. Were they to lose their futures before they left the schoolroom?
