Page 49 of The Trouble with Tweed

Claire shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to avoid anything. What was the question?”

“Where are you going, dressed like that?”

Claire glanced down at herself. By her sister’s tone, she expected to see something out of place—something scandalous. However, her navy day dress was as pristine and modest as when she’d last checked herself in the mirror.

Claire quite liked the ensemble. It had clever darts in the bodice and tucks at the waist that made her thin figure appear more feminine. Though Claire could never hope to compete with Margaret’s lush curves or even Lily’s soft figure, she appreciated the workmanship all the same.

“Dressed like what?” Claire asked.

“You’re doing it again.” Margaret stabbed a loaded fork in her direction. Syrup flecked the white tablecloth; Claire swore she heard a footman sigh from his position flanking the sideboard behind her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m meeting Michael for a drive in the park.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

“Riding in the park?”

“Meeting Michael,” Beatrice said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully.

“He and I are friends.”

“So you’ve forgiven him for his scandalous tryst in Paris?” Beatrice slathered jam on her toast while watching Claire closely.

“What on earth are you talking about? What scandalous tryst?” Claire’s forehead creased in confusion.

“Nevermind. A poor joke,” Beatrice said archly.

“There goes that theory,” Margaret muttered.

“Pardon?” Claire snapped.

“It’s only that we’re all dying to know why you cut him off all those years ago. You were courting, and then you weren’t,” Lily said gently.

“How about you and I make a deal?” Claire arched her eyebrow. “If you’ll be honest about your beaux, I’ll do the same.”

“So you’re admitting he’s a beau?” Margaret asked archly.

“I have nothing to hide,” Beatrice said.

“Ah, but the wager isn’t with you. It’s with our two sisters.” Claire turned to each of them in turn and found both Lily and Margaret suddenly fascinated by the contents of their plate and teacup, respectively.

Beatrice frowned at the lot of them. “Go on then, Claire. State the rules.”

Claire gave a saccharine smile. “If they’ll each answer one question honestly, so will I. It’s as simple as that. But they must go first.”

Beatrice sat up straight and grinned. “That’s it? And you’ll truly tell us why you stopped talking to Michael for four years?”

Beatrice appeared delighted, as if all her dreams had come true at once. But Claire was studying Lily, who looked even paler, which she wouldn’t have thought possible, and Margaret, who now appeared as if she’d entered into a secret waffle-eating contest.

Claire gave a triumphant smile, and Beatrice finally turned to assess the cause.

“Oh come now,” Beatrice chided. “It’s just one question. You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“Fine.” Lily took a deep breath. “You may ask your question. Right, Margaret?”

Margaret shook her head, wide-eyed, her mouth still full of waffles.

“Beatrice is right,” Lily cajoled. “We might as well hear what the question is before we say we won’t answer.”