Page 85 of The Trouble with Tweed

“No, really.” Beatrice reached over and plucked what appeared to be a leaf from Margaret’s hair. “Where were you?”

Margaret flushed a bright pink. “I got lost. Or rather, I was waylaid in the gardens.”

“Which was it?” Beatrice gave a slow smile that spoke of savoring the current amusement. “Lost or waylaid?”

Margaret scowled. “It hardly matters.”

“Were you alone when you got lost?” Claire asked all-too-innocently, her eyes wide. “Or did someone help you into that bush?”

“Oh do shut up,” Margaret muttered.

CHAPTER 27- CLAIRE

The following morning, Claire checked her reflection several times before heading down to breakfast. She was determined that her sisters not be able to see the nerves that continuously fluttered in her stomach, or the radiant happiness that made her feel as if she were swooping through the air.

After all, though she and Michael had an understanding, nothing was official yet. And though William had previously told Claire of his approval of Michael, she could not be certain that he’d give his blessing to the match. Not until permission was asked.

She needn’t have been so concerned that her sisters would observe that she was quite aflutter with all her nerves and excitement. The breakfast table was an oddly silent tableau, though all of the resident siblings were in attendance.

Margaret’s sole focus was on buttering and adding precise amounts of syrup to her pancakes. Lily stared at the low floral arrangement as if it held precious secrets. Even William seemed distracted, only stopping in the room long enough to grab some bacon and a cup of tea before striding out again.

“What on earth is going on?” Beatrice finally asked.

“Too much champagne,” Margaret said, violently shoving back from the table.

“Yes, me too.” Lily said, fairly fleeing after her.

Beatrice stared at Claire with round eyes. “What’s the matter with them, do you think?”

“Perhaps it’s just as they say, that they overindulged last night.” Claire calmly sipped her scalding tea.

“I’d believe it of Margaret, perhaps, but not Lily.”

Claire shrugged and returned her cool attention to her plate.

“Well, in any case, I suppose that’s that,” Beatrice said, unfazed by Claire’s silence.

“What do you mean?”

“The Season. It’s over. And I’m certainly no closer to marriage than when I started.” She shook a hearty sprinkling of pepper over her eggs. “Though I do have a plan not to finish the Season completely empty-handed.”

“How so?”

“Never you mind, Claire. Some things are best left a surprise.”

When Michael arrived late that morning, Claire led him to the parlor closest to William’s study.

“He’s meeting with the Duke of Devonshire for some reason,” Claire murmured, casting another glance down the hallway.

She noted Margaret doing the same from a different door. Claire ducked back into her respective room before her sister could spot her.

“Business, probably,” Michael said.

“Perhaps.” Claire suddenly felt the childish urge to nibble at her fingernails.

“Claire, it’s going to be all right.” Michael caught her hand and gave a comforting press to her fingers. “I’m quite sure he’ll give his blessing.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” she said.