Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Ishould never have agreed to you and Leonora coming to London for the Season,” Seraphina declared, her fingers turning a bolt of sapphire silk with unnecessary force. “Not a single good thing has come of it.”
“You have recited that exact sentiment roughly half a million times for over a month, Seraphina,” Leonora retorted, not looking up from a tray of lace trimmings.
“Do you have another verse to share? Or must we endure the paraphrase for the remainder of the afternoon? Because if you are simply looking for a phrase to repeat over and over again until your tongue falls out, I can suggest a few with far more rhythmic charm.”
Euphemia watched her sisters from the center of the modiste’s showroom, a sigh escaping her. She had been out shopping with them for over an hour to find dresses for her first ball as a married woman, but truly, she had simply needed to see them.
She was here, ostensibly, because she needed dresses.
This was true. Nathaniel had announced, two days after the picnic, that Alistair and Yvette were hosting the first significant ball of the season and that they would be attending.
Alistair Locke, the Duke of Pembourne, was one of Theodore’s friends, and his wife Yvette was someone Euphemia had known for the last season.
It was, by any measure, a friendly crowd.
But this would be her formal entrance into the world as the Duchess of Greymoor, and the thought of facing the critical, razor-sharp judgment of the ton made her stomach twist.
Seraphina’s mounting paranoia was doing very little to ease her anxieties. Ever since the hurried wedding, her eldest sister had settled into a state of permanent dread, viewing London as a predatory beast that had swallowed Euphemia whole.
“I am serious, Leo,” Seraphina hissed, lowering her voice as a shop assistant drifted toward the back room.
She turned her sharp gaze to Euphemia. “Look at where we are. Euphemia is married to a man who treats his own estate like a fortress, and for what? A scandal that should never have happened. And you—” She pointed a finger at Leonora.
“You have no intention of seeking a husband this Season either.”
Leonora’s expression tightened imperceptibly, her fingers stilled against the lace. “It doesn’t matter what my reasons are.”
“Oh, we all know about your grand reasons, Leo,” Seraphina retorted. “No matter how much you try to talk your way out of it or dress it up as something else, it is a foolish endeavor. I simply choose not to listen to your rationalizations anymore.”
“We all have reasons,” Euphemia said mildly, from her position in front of the glass. “That is rather Leonora’s point.”
Seraphina turned to her. “Don’t defend her.”
Leonora flared up, her cheeks flushing with a sudden, rare heat as she dropped the lace back onto the tray.
“We all have our reasons, Seraphina! Every single one of us had a reason for agreeing to come to London, so why am I the only one enduring your cross-examination? Effie had her reasons, and look at her, she is fine, she is well, and she is standing right here with us. I have my own purpose for being in this city, and I admit it freely. Even if I do not care to speak of it because it is nobody’s business but my own, it is still my truth. ”
Leonora turned her gaze directly to Seraphina.
“But what of your reason, Seraphina? What could possibly be your own excuse for agreeing to come to London? Do not dare sit there and claim you only came along to be a good sister or to watch over us. We all know you are not entirely innocent in this. None of us are. You are hiding your own secrets beneath that scowl, so you have absolutely no right to judge me for wanting to keep my own counsel.”
The tension in the showroom grew thick enough to choke.
“Enough!” Euphemia stepped between them. “Stop this arguing. It is entirely unseemly, and we are in public.”
Euphemia rubbed her temples, looking between her two sisters with a weary, heavy heart.
“It is fine if we all have our reasons for being here. Leonora is right about that. But, Leo... you need to let this go. You are dwelling far too much on something that should have been left behind. Sure, our fathers died tragic deaths, and there were so many terrifying things we did not understand growing up, but we need to move forward. We need to be happy, moving forward.”
Euphemia lowered her voice, desperate to keep the hovering shop assistants from catching their words. “Our fathers suffered a terrible stroke of misfortune, yes, but we turned out fine, didn’t we? We survived. We are well. I want you to be happy, Leonora.”
Leonora looked at Euphemia, a deep, painful fracture appearing in her usually sarcastic facade.
“It is easy for the two of you to stand here and tell me to let it go. You both have your answers, I don’t!
You know the sequence of events that led to you both to living under Lady Byron’s roof.
You can account for everything, and everyone.
But I do not. I am completely in the dark, and I refuse to live my life pretending that I don’t want to know. ”
Before Seraphina or Euphemia could offer an answer, the heavy velvet curtain of the fitting room rustled. The head modiste glided back into the center of the room, her arms laden with a fresh cascade of silk linings, effectively shattering the fragile, heavy bubble of their argument.
Instantly, the three sisters smoothed their faces.
Beneath her calm front, though, Euphemia understood Leonora perfectly.
She knew that if she were in Leonora’s shoes, she would also want to know the truth.
She didn’t really want to argue or tell Leonora to stop, because her sister had every right to look for answers.
The real issue was that she and Seraphina were just terrified.
They were scared that if Leonora kept chasing these buried secrets in her birth family, she would end up getting badly hurt by whatever she found.
Nobody knew exactly what had actually happened back then, and they just wanted Leonora to live a safe, happy life.
But Leonora was like an onion with too many stubborn layers, and stopping her from ruining her own peace was going to be nearly impossible.
Hoping to steer the conversation away from familiar arguments, Euphemia stepped between them, adjusting the fall of a pale green muslin sleeve on the dressmaker’s dummy.
“Have you heard anything from Lady Byron lately?” Euphemia asked. “I have written several letters to her since the wedding, but her responses are always incredibly brief. I can tell she is still quite upset with me over how everything happened.”
Seraphina sighed, smoothing down her skirts. “She hasn’t said much to us either, though her silence speaks volumes.”
“Perhaps we should go and visit her soon,” Euphemia suggested, looking between them. “Just to smooth things over. Don’t you agree? I mean, she did not want us to come to London, but I have to admit she has tried to support us in her own... stubborn ways.”
“All right,” Seraphina said. “We should. She’d be glad.”
“She might not let us leave again, if we go back,” Leonora pointed out. “You both know that, right? She’ll lock us in the library and bury us with books. Are you sure visiting is the best idea?”
Euphemia inhaled sharply, noting that Leonora made a valid point. “Perhaps, we continue to write her letters until she warms up to us.”
“Good,” Leonora said, but Seraphina said nothing in return.
“Right, before I completely forget. I wanted to let you know that your uncle is doing much better, Effie. Seraphina and I did visit him a couple of days ago. I heard the Duke has graciously stepped in and is paying for a proper nurse and a physician to take care of him.”
A wave of warmth washed over Euphemia, though it was instantly chased by a flurry of curious concern. “Yes. His Grace mentioned he would do that once we wed,” she murmured. She looked at Leonora, tilting her head. “This new person... the nurse. Do you know if they read to him?”
Leonora blinked, slightly caught off guard by the question. “I... I believe so. I understand she is quite attentive. Why do you ask?”
A small smile broke across Euphemia’s face. “Because he will be utterly insufferable if they do not. He is terribly stubborn about it.” She chuckled softly. “We used to read together in the evenings when he was well enough. I quite miss it.”
She smoothed the front of her gown. “Perhaps, one of these days very soon, I shall go and pay a visit to him. If for nothing else, so we can read together again. I can handle his stubbornness better than a stranger can.”
Leonora nodded. “That would be good.”
“What about the two of you?” Euphemia asked, changing the subject. “What have you actually been up to while I was away on my honeymoon?”
“Nothing,” Leonora said flatly, leaning against a display table. “Absolutely nothing.”
“We have just been staying at home, doing nothing at all,” Seraphina agreed. “We haven’t attended a single social event.”
Euphemia gave Leonora a knowing look. “I assume that means you have just been buried in your books, doing your own research and investigations again?”
Leonora simply offered a tight, mysterious smile, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.
Euphemia looked at both of them, exasperated.
“Even if you are both upset about being forced to come to London, you cannot just hole up in the house like hermits. The entire reason I was so enthusiastic about rushing into this marriage was to ensure the rumors didn’t ruin your social standing, and here you are, ruining it yourselves by refusing to step outside! ”
Seraphina waved a dismissive hand, cutting her off. “Effie, that is not even the conversation we should be having right now. Why are we talking about us?”