Page 7 of Unbound Duchess

Laurence turned around, using himself to hide the contents on the table as Solomon hurried to swipe the masks back into his satchel. It took him a second, but Laurence schooled his expression into a warm smile as he faced his youngest—and now only—sister, Madalene. His heart ached as he saw her; Blonde hair, green eyes, rosy cheeks. She looked more and more like Annabel every day.

“What are you two scheming about?” Madalene asked, her tone playful as she cocked her head to the side curiously.

“Just the usual,” Laurence said, forcing his tone to sound casual as he shrugged his wide shoulders. He glanced over once and found the masks gone. He relaxed, albeit only a little, and leaned down to plant a kiss on his sister’s forehead.

“And what is it that you are doing interrupting our scheming?” he asked teasingly.

Madalene smirked as she glanced at Solomon, who had taken to leaning against the mantle of the fireplace.

“Are you staying for supper again?” she asked him.

Laurence noted Solomon’s grin was instant. He might have been in love with Annabel, but he adored Madalene as if she were his little sister.

“Are you inviting me, dear lady?” Solomon asked.

“You always have an invitation at our table,” Madalene said affectionately.

Solomon bowed his head in respect to her.

“And it is an invitation I will always accept,” he replied.

“Very good,” Madalene answered.

“Is that all you came in here for?” Laurence asked, his gaze dropping down to the letter she held in her hands.

“Such impatience!” she playfully scolded as she offered the letter to him.

“The new Earl of Highcastle has invited us to dinner to celebrate his inheritance,” she explained, as Laurence unfolded the invitation. “Poor form, in my opinion. His predecessor only died a week ago and he hosts a party? Not only that, but it’s such short notice! It is tomorrow. I believe we should decline. It feels strange, sudden, and improper. In my opinion, if you want to throw a dinner party…”

Laurence’s eyes fell on the name of the dinner host.

“Benedict Page,” he said aloud, interrupting his sister.

“How very rude of you, my dear brother,” she retorted, her disapproval reverberating through the room

Laurence threw her an apologetic glance before he hardened his gaze and turned to Solomon. His friend looked back at him with equal intensity, and their silent conversation began and ended in a matter of seconds. They had reason to suspect that Benedict had some sort of hand in organizing the auction, but he was a hard man to gain an audience with, as he spent most of his time in his home outside London.

“We should go,” Laurence said aloud after he and Solomon shared a subtle nod. “Help the new earl celebrate.”

Madalene made a face as she took the invitation back.

“But it is so inappropriate,” she argued. “The late earl’s daughter buried her father only a few days ago. This is a time for mourning, not celebration.”

“People mourn in all sorts of ways, little sister,” Laurence retorted. “We are going.”

CHAPTER THREE

“This feels wrong, Benedict,” Ellen said, her tone hoarse from all of her crying. She lowered the new, bright blue extravagant dress her cousin had just gifted her and looked at him with pleading, red-rimmed eyes.

“I should be in mourning blacks,” she insisted. “And we should not be hosting this ball! It is too soon after the funeral!”

Benedict’s blue eyes were full of pity as his dark blonde brows pinched and he pouted his lips.

“Your father would want you feeling beautiful and happy, not ugly and sad,” he replied, picking up the gown and placing it back in her hands.

Ellen’s shoulders drooped as she bowed her head.

“Please do not make me go,” she whispered. “Even if Father were still with us, I despise parties. I always have.”