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Their father had split his time between his legitimate family and them. It had meant that her brothers were often called upon for the care and their younger sisters.
And whatever the Smiths’ flaws, they took their jobs seriously—
a fact that Mirabelle had always appreciated. But looking at them now, she knew none of them could escort her about London this fall. They would hurt rather than help her cause. No woman of the peerage would believe that Mirabelle belonged with her pack of barely tamed brothers in tow.
And because she spent all of her time with them, she was secretly afraid that she was as uncouth as them. In fact, she knew it was true.
And worse still, she’d attend several events to prepare for her debut this winter. Ace and Emily would help, of course. But she needed more…
She needed to know how to blend in with those women. Emily could help her, but Emily was undergoing a transition of her own. She had become a wife. Which meant she’d only be able to help Mirabelle so much and then winter would soon be upon them.
She wished she could hire a tutor, though then she’d have to admit to her brothers that there was a problem. Besides, money was still an issue for siblings, one her brothers were trying to correct, but Mirabelle would not burden the family.
In fact, she was attempting to help them, whether they knew they needed that aid or not.
Her gaze fluttered down the line of carriages where another group of guests stood.
First, there was the Duke of Upton. The man’s stern features and broad chest managed to be even more intimidating than her brothers’.
And then there was the Earl of Somersworth. His blond hair and charming features made him appear as though he were out of a fairy tale.
Could she ever convince a man like that to help her?
Finally, her gaze landed on the third man in the bunch, Baron Boxby.
Emily’s brother. His brown hair glinted in the sun, picking up the few blond streaks that colored the strands.
She knew his eyes were a warm brown, and though he was just as masculine as the others, there was something kinder that colored his eyes. Just like Emily’s.
He was the one that could aid her cause. She was sure of it.
But she also knew that she couldn’t come right out and ask. It wasn’t proper and besides, why would he even want to?
But she was not a proper lady, after all, and she’d grown up on the east side. She knew all sorts of tricks that a woman born and bred of money would never think to employ and she had the perfect plan, to gain his aid…
He’d never even know what hit him.
* * *
Kenneth Boxby,baron of the same name, stood with his two best friends and drew in a breath of crisp morning air.
Today, his sister would wed. With their parents deceased for the past decade, he’d taken on her guardianship with all the vigor an eighteen-year-old might apply to the task. And now, at the age of eight and twenty, he was free.
Somewhat free.
He was attempting to be free. He gave his head a sad shake, thinking of the meltdown that Emily had had the night before, on the eve of her wedding, when he’d informed her that he’d be taking a tour of Europe in a fortnight.
She’d burst into tears and begged him not to go. What if her marriage wasn’t suiting her? What if her new husband didn’t love her? What if his family didn’t accept her?
It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sister. He did. More than anything in this world. Which was why he’d found himself assuring her that if she wasn’t properly settled, he wouldn’t leave. She’d slumped into his arms with obvious relief but his chest had hollowed with disappointment.
He’d been waiting ten years for the chance to live as other young men did. Why must he wait longer still?
And if he had to cancel, his friends would be merciless in their reproach. He looked at his longtime friends and travel companions, the Duke of Upton on his right, large and craggy, and the Earl of Somersworth on his left, the definition of handsome. Both had experienced years of debaucherous fun that included many grand adventures. None of which Ken had been able to join.
Sure, he joined them to box, to attend dinners at their gentlemen’s club, he even went out for the occasional night gaming.
But where his friends might stumble home in the wee hours of the morning, he always returned home long before that.
