Anne frowned. “I am under the shadow of it, I admit, but I am not so far gone that I’m blind. If I allow myself to fall completely—”
“Grandfather and Mary will be livid,” her sister finished for her.
Anne nodded. “Unless I can somehow prove Simon is telling the truth, that is. Or should I simply forget him and not see him again?”
“Certainly not!” Jemma cried out. “He made you shoes! That is the most thoughtful and accepting gift he could give.”
Anne grinned. “Yes, I agree.”
“Try them on,” Jemma encouraged.
Anne hurriedly did so, stood, and twirled around the room. “They feel divine.”
“You cannot refuse to give a man a chance to prove himself who has made you perfectly fitting shoes! However, if he demonstrates that he is truly a rogue, or evidence surfaces that he really seduced Mary, then I will set Philip on him.”
Anne cocked an eyebrow at Jemma. Her brother-in-law was known for his poetry, not his physical prowess. The man was certainly well-made, but she did not think Simon would see him as a threat.
“Very well,” Jemma responded to Anne’s unspoken thoughts, “I will set Philip on him alongside the Duke of Scarsdale and the Duke of Aversley.”
Anne giggled. “Now those two men could frighten Simon.” She paused a moment and then sighed. “I better be off. I want to speak with Grandfather about Mary once more, and I want to speak with Mary directly, too. I feel as if I am missing a very important piece of what happened.”
“Do choose your words wisely. If Grandfather knows you have a tendre for the duke—”
“I do not have a tendre for him,” Anne protested, though she certainly had the start of one.
Jemma smirked again. “Call it whatever you wish. If Grandfather knows, he will likely rise out of bed, attend the ball with you, and confront Kilmartin in public. Can you imagine?”
Anne could, and it would be dreadful. No matter what Simon turned out to be, it was no fault of his sisters’. They deserved the chance to make good matches, which meant untoward gossip about Simon would not do.
When Anne returned home, the first thing she did was knock on Mary’s bedchamber door.
“You may enter,” Mary called from inside.
Anne did so, thinking how to delicately broach the subject of Simon, but before she could say anything, Mary turned from the looking glass she’d been brushing her hair in and scowled at Anne.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “You missed a meeting of the Sisterhood. I, of course, took the lead and made much-needed decisions. You truly have shirked your duty as president, Anne, and I’m afraid it falls to me to tell you that you are no longer our leader.”
“What?” Anne gasped, finally getting a word in. She thought she saw Mary smirk.
“What did you expect? You’ve done nothing to aid poor Fanny.”
“I’m working on it,” Anne objected, not wanting to tell Mary of her deal with Simon.
Mary waved. “There is no need for you to do anything. I have a plan to take care of Lord Rutledge and that scoundrel the Duke of Kilmartin.”
Dread filled Anne. Mary seemed almost gleeful about the prospect of exacting revenge on the men. Would she really feel so strongly about striking Simon if he had not truly used her?
“Mary, tell me again what happened with you and the Duke of Kilmartin?”
Mary gave her a questioning look. “Whatever for?”
“I have had the opportunity to speak with the man,” Anne said, deciding to give Mary a sliver of the truth, “and he actually seems nice.”
“Of course he does, you fool!” Mary almost screeched. “He is an expert rogue. He seemed nice to me, as well, stupid, foolish girl that I was. He told me I was lovely, and he even made me a figurine as I had told him how I loved them. He made me think he loved me!”
Anne thought of the shoes Simon had made for her. Was he still seducing her for revenge but had merely changed tactics? Even if he was, it was not the fault of his sisters.
“Mary, you must not do anything to harm those men that would have the effect of harming their families.” When Mary gave her a defiant look, Anne added, “Please promise me that you will talk with me before you take any action.”
