“You can’t marry a man like Father.”
“I don’t want to marry a man like Father.”
“You won’t have to, I swear.”
“What are you going to do? You didn’t disappear into the night to find me a husband, did you?”
“No. I disappeared into the night to find myself one.”
Cassie’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
“You asked me where I was. Well, I went to the address we found in the packet of letters. The packet hidden amongst Mama’s things.”
“You didn’t! You went to the Lyon’s Den? On your own? What were you thinking?”
“I am not sure I was. Not clearly, anyway.”
“I can’t believe you. I told you those letters were better left unread.”
Eliza shook her head. “And I told you ignoring the existence of a secret doesn’t protect you from suffering that secret’s consequences.”
Cassie harrumphed. “Well? What happened, then?”
Eliza hesitated. She’d never lied to Cassandra. Ever. “I can’t tell you everything,” she said carefully. “I made a…mistake when I first got there, but the mistake isn’t the important part—my agreement with the proprietress is what matters. She is going to arrange an introduction to a man I selected.”
“You selected?”
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon assures me Mr. Vane is nothing like Father. He is the kind of man who can be influenced by a wife.”
Cassie was silent for a full minute. Then, she exclaimed, “I can’t like it! My own twin, forced to marry a man she will barely know.”
“Not forced. Choosing to marry a man she can manage rather than allowing her sister to be forced to marry a man she despises.”
“I don’tdespiseHarbury. How could I? I hardly know him. I’m merely angry with the dismissive way he treated me. Angrier than I’ve ever been.” She paused. “But I don’t want you to wed someone you do not love any more than I wish to be forced on Harbury. How can allow you to make such a sacrifice?”
“Listen.” She placed her hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “For me, a practical match isn’t a sacrifice. I have never dreamt of a love match.”
“Tarradiddle and Bilgewater.”
Eliza groaned. “Let’s stop using that expression, shall we?”
“Why?” Cassie rolled back over. “You say twaddle, I say taradiddle. It has always made us laugh.”
“I—ah—do not find it funny anymore.”
She’d disguised her voice as much as she was able, speaking in a lower tone and with her governess’s perfect elocution, but she had let that one, verbal eccentricity slip.
She doubted he’d forget the unusual use of bilgewater.
What other mistakes had she made?
“You’ve lost your mind,” remarked Cassie.
“Possibly,” Eliza concurred.
The sisters again fell into silence. Dawn slowly brightened the room until she could make out every detail of the perfectly celestial, proper angels carved into the tester. Eliza frowned. Even they appeared to be gazing down in judgment.
Had she been foolish? Or had she valiantly seized opportunity?
