"And they feel terrible about all of it. Mother says Charles has written three separate apology letters but keeps burning them because he can't find the right words."
"Good. Let him suffer."
Ophelia moved her chair closer to his, taking his hand. "We're different now. We're happy. Don't you think they should see that? Don't you think they deserve to know their sister isn't miserable?"
"Can't you just write and tell them? Perhaps include a sketch of you smiling as proof?"
"Alexander."
"What? It's a reasonable suggestion."
"They're my family. You're my family. I want my two families to at least try to coexist peacefully."
Alexander looked at her earnest face, remembered how she'd helped him with his boots, how she'd kissed him this morning despite his massive embarrassment, how she'd stood beside him in the village facing down Harrington.
"This is emotional blackmail," he said accusingly.
"Is it working?"
"Unfortunately." He sighed deeply, already regretting what he was about to say. "Fine. You may invite them for dinner. One dinner. Not a visit, not a stay, just dinner."
"Really?" Her face lit up with such genuine pleasure that he almost didn't mind the impending disaster.
"But I have conditions."
"Of course you do."
"First, they are not to touch anything in the portrait gallery, the music room, or my study. In fact, let's just say they're not to touch anything that predates this century."
"Alexander..."
"Second, Charles is specifically banned from any room containing spheres of any kind; celestial, terrestrial, or decorative."
"That's ridiculous."
"That's prudent. Third, no discussions of politics, estate management, or the relative merits of inherited versus earned wealth."
"What will you talk about then?"
"The weather. The roads. Absolutely nothing that could lead to anyone insulting anyone else's entire existence."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being protective of my remaining artifacts and my sanity." But he squeezed her hand to soften the words. "They may come to dinner. One dinner. And if they break anything, I'm sending them a bill."
"They won't break anything."
"Your confidence is touching but historically unfounded."
She kissed his cheek, which he supposed made the impending ordeal slightly more bearable. "I'll write to them today. Perhaps Friday?"
"Three days to prepare myself. How generous."
"You could try to enjoy it, you know. They're not bad, just... enthusiastic."
"Enthusiastic is one word for it. Chaotic agents of destruction might be more accurate."
But when she went to write her letter, he followed her to the library, ostensibly to read but really to watch her write, the way she bit her lip when concentrating, the little smile that crossed her face as she crafted her words.
