“Your brother named her?” Lydia frowned.
The two sisters exchanged a look, and Lydia had the sense they were debating whether or not to tell her something.
“You do not have to tell me, not if you do not want, but I know Iris is your oldest sister’s daughter and that she is dead now.”
“And it is my mother’s fault,” Cora growled, her eyes flashing with anger.
“Cora!” Juliet put a hand on her sister’s arm.
“Well, it is.” Cora looked at Lydia and then at her sister. “My mother was not a kind woman. Her only love was my father’s money. Well, that is not true—she also loved spending his money.”
“She did get us things sometimes,” Juliet amended, but her older sister was quick to bash that.
“Even when she did, it was to keep the ton from gossiping. Never to make us happy or consider what we wanted. I was dressed in frilly pastel dresses, full of bows and lacy nonsense, till I was eighteen!” She looked at Lydia now. “Can you believe that? With my complexion? It was a disaster.”
“I would be angrier about the frills,” Lydia responded without thinking though judging by how Cora’s posture relaxed, she suspected it was the right response.
“Anyway, you get the picture. My mother was selfish and entitled, and as far as she was concerned, our only purpose was to get married and get out of the house, so she could enjoy my father’s wealth without us for competition.” Cora made a disgusted noise. “When Katherine debuted, a rakish marquess decided that he had to have her.”
“Didn’t your father do anything? No man would want his daughter married to a rake.” Lydia’s lip curled on the word.
Cora shook her head, “Sadly, our father’s opinion was dictated by mother’s influence, and he didn’t look into the Marquess’ behavior toward Katherine and readily agreed to the union. When Katherine died in childbirth, and her snake of a husband abandoned her newborn babe on our doorstep, my father saw the truth of him, but by then, it was too late.”
“We had told father for months that Katherine’s letters did not sound like her. We begged him to let us visit her.” Juliet’s eyes filled with tears.
“My father saw her body, covered in bruises from her husband.” Cora’s whole body shook. “We found out when he told us, deep in delirium one night. The guilt ate away at him. Within a year, he had died.”
“I can’t imagine what losing a sister would feel like. I’m sorry for your loss,” Lydia sympathized.
At that point Iris reappeared behind a servant who was carrying a tray laden with breakfast. The servant smiled at Lydia as she laid the tray down. “Does Your Grace wish to breakfast first, or shall I dress you?”
“Breakfast would be lovely, Miss Sutton.” Lydia smiled.
“Iris, what have we just said about asking?” Juliet’s voice was soft as Iris’s hand crept towards the apple on Lydia’s plate.
Iris blushed and looked at Lydia, smiling a smile that would have melted even the hardest of hearts. “Please Auntie Lydia, may I have your apple?”
“Of course, Iris.” Lydia handed it to the girl.
Lydia looked at her breakfast: a brioche and French bread stacked on her plate with a cup of steaming brown liquid to the side. She took a sip, half expecting tea, but a bitter brew of coffee hit her tongue instead. Tea was the only hot beverage consumed in the Nittinghill household now; coffee was far too expensive.
“Here.” Cora pushed a small canister of cream toward her. “It tastes better if you add a little milk or sugar to it.” Lydia took the cream gratefully.
Lydia thanked her, eating her breakfast as Juliet and Iris started a clapping game, laughing and teasing one another. Cora lounged on the sofa, watching the pair with a soft expression that tugged at her heart. The Duke may not want her, but it felt like his sisters did.
Perhaps that is enough.
Chapter Seven
Afew hours later, as Lydia was passing a massive set of doors, she heard the sound of laughter. She poked her head inside to see the small library. The room looked to be in a state of chaos. Large books had been taken off the shelves, and the couches had lost their cushions. All these items were collected in the center of the room, stacked together to create a fort.
“Make haste, my friends, for we set out on torturous seas for the island of Hy-Basil.” Iris leaped out of her fort with a wooden sword in hand.
The fort was a makeshift ship, the walls made out of books with several stacks set up to create a bow and stern at the front and back. Iris stood up at what Lydia assumed was the bow and raised her sword outward like an explorer on a mission. She looked adorable in her pink, poofy dress and flamboyant pirate’s hat with a feather so large that it fell in her face.
“What great treasures shall we find Captain Iris?” a deep booming voice said, and to her surprise, Archer appeared with his own flamboyant hat, a pirate’s eye patch, and a tiny wooden sword at his belt.
It was a bizarre sight to see, and even more strange was how he bowed to her, every bit the loyal first mate to Iris’ pirate Captain.
