“One hundred,” Cassie announced. “Your turn.”
Eliza handed the hairbrush to Cassandra, and they changed positions on the bed. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the soothing feel of the brush in her hair.
If only she could forget the passion, the laughter, the sense of profound connection.
Eliza stepped outof Lady Asquith’s carriage, the last of the five sisters to emerge. She raised her face, taking in the London residence of Lady Redver and Miss D’Acre. She’d expected something small. But the townhouse was on par with Asquith House.
“D’Acre House,” Lady Asquith explained, “has been the principal residence of the Marquess of Redver for several generations. The current marquess, however, resides on the opposite end of Mayfair.”
Asquith, too, had removed himself from his own home for the comfort of his female relations, but Eliza hadn’t expected Redver to have made a similar choice.
The Black Widow would have known of Redver’s living arrangement, though. Her use of this location for an introduction made better sense now.
“Redver,” Lady Asquith continued, “let another residence after returning from Brussels.”
Brussels. Had he been in the war then?
As Redver had a fortune and a title ensured, she could only assume he’d purchased his commission out of a sense of patriotic duty.
If so, her assessment of him had not been wholly correct.
How had she painted such a convincing caricature of him as a villain when she’d known so little about him? Had she hated him simply because he didn’t dance and because happened to be Harbury’s friend?
She frowned.
But no—the Black Widow had agreed with her assessment of his character.
Hadn’t she?
Or had she merely agreed to tell him what Eliza had thought of him?
Eliza winced, thinking that if she’d read him wrong, her accusations must have stung him badly.
“La,” Nettie breathed, grabbing Millie’s arm. “Imagine having all this to yourself.”
“I’d settle for my own bed,” Lenora replied. “Millie kicks.”
“You’re welcome in mine,” Nettie said.
“No, thank you,” Lenora replied with a smile. “Too many crumbs.”
“Crumbs?” Lady Asquith asked, alarmed.
“Not every night, Godmama,” Nettie soothed. “Lenora is exaggerating. I’m very tidy.”
Cassie flashed Eliza a smile. Tidy, Nettie was decidedly not.
With Lady Asquith leading the way, they climbed the stairs. The double front doors opened to a hall with marble floors of deep green and gold. Wood paneling inlaid with mirrors stretching all the way to the ceiling, making the large space feel massive.
And Eliza had already felt small.
“Lady Asquith!” Emily D’Acre’s mass of blonde curls popped over the side of the upper railing. “And all the Misses Wainwright! Do have a rest in the ladies’ parlor. Mama and I will be down in just a moment.” She bounced. “We’re ever so happy you could come.”
“Mmmm,” Millie said under her breath. “She is…jaunty.”
“I like her,” announced Nettie.
“I daresay we all will,” Lenora added with her usual diplomacy. “She invited us to dance this afternoon, remember?”
