“And who ever heard of being friends with a man?” Millie asked.
“We’re friends with Asquith,” Eliza reasoned.
“He’s a not a man, he’s a relation, though a distant one,” Millie answered.
“Besides, he’s responsible for our well-being,” Cassie added.
“Tut!” Lady Asquith scolded. “What have I told you girls about whispering?”
“We’re sorry,” Cassie answered for them all.
A mischievous twinkle sparkled in Millicent’s eyes. “We’re naught but a trial to you, are we? The Scandalous Wainwrights.”
“Psh,” quipped Lady Asquith. “You’re no trial at all. You’ve brought a good deal of laughter into my home—something I missed dreadfully. As for scandal… Well, I’ve seen several scandals in my day, all far more sordid than dancing an unapproved waltz.”
“Did Harbury, at least, dance well?” Millie asked Cassandra.
“Hardly had the chance to discover,” Cassandra replied. “No sooner had we taken to the floor than—” Her eyes sparked with sudden and clearly unexpected tears. She covered her mouth with her hand.
Eliza rubbed the small of her back. “Forget it, Cassie.”
“If one is going to transgress,” Millie grumbled, “one should at least have had the chance enjoy the benefits.”
As Lady Asquithtskeddisapproval, Eliza sucked in and bit her lip. She had not only enjoyed the benefits of her transgression, she’d also reveled in them!
Having heated at the briefest recollections, she removed her cloak and laid it carefully by her side.
She closed her eyes, turned her face to the sun, and forced herself to be entirely consumed by current sensations. She became present only to the moment—the sun, the solid ground beneath her legs, and sweet smell of damp earth.
“Well, Miss Cassandra,” Lady Asquith intoned, “you might as well tell your sister the truth—this time loud enough for me to hear the whole. Are you well-pleased with the duke?”
Eliza’s eyes flew open, and she turned to look at her twin, who glanced back accusingly—you started this.
“I…” Cassie hesitated. “I’m not sure I have known him long enough to take his measure.”
Lady Asquith harrumphed. “There is nothing wrong with the Duke of Harbury that could not be solved by a decent marriage.”
“Why is marriage seen as a solution to a defective character?” asked Millie.
“Marriage did not improve Father,” Eliza agreed.
Lady Asquith broke into a series of clucks before sputtering, “Do not speak ill of the dead.”
Lady Asquith’s gaze met Eliza’s and held. Though chastised for her comment, Eliza read understanding in the older woman’s eyes.
“And don’t,” Lady Asquith continued, “confuse marriage the institution with a marriage of minds—a mutual commitment predicated on a willingness to hear and be heard, to bear witness to one another’s struggles, to support one another’s strengths. Such a union takes both humility and mutual goodwill.”
“Too bad,” Millie reflected, “there are so few humble young men.”
“Tut,” Lady Asquith scolded again. Then, she snorted. “The Willful Wainwrights, more like.”
Millie turned to Eliza, mouthingWillful Wainwrightswith raised brows and a delighted little bounce.
“Despite what most people believe,” Lady Asquith continued. “I’ve always felt that character develops over decades. One must allow for time for growth and maturity, especially where young men are concerned.”
“Would you marry again?” Cassie asked.
A wealth of unspoken memories played across the older woman’s features. “Doubtful. You see, I was blessed a marriage that embodied the ideal of which I speak. Why roll the dice again?” Her eyes softened. “My husband was, of course, heir presumptive to your grandfather when we married, but, as you know, he could have been displaced should your grandfather have chosen to marry again. In other words, I didn’t marry for ambition.”
