Since—
She pressed her palms to her cheeks to steady herself.
Why would he come? To thank Charles? The article had been about Kenbrooks’ visit, after all.
Perhaps he was merely delivering the chair to some fortunate villager.
Only… He had not shown himself in the village in years.
“Right,” Eugenia declared briskly, already smoothing her skirts. “I shall investigate. None of you move.”
She slipped out before anyone could argue.
The moment she left, the chamber erupted.
“He looked tall, didn’t he, even from up here?” Penelope murmured.
“And broad,” Josephine added thoughtfully. “Extraordinarily broad.”
“Aside from the patch,” Imogen said, already crossing toward Rosamund with a determined expression, “he is surprisingly handsome.”
Rosamund found herself steered to her vanity before she could protest. Fingers deft and efficient, Imogen tugged loose the severe knot at the back of her head.
“You can’t meet with him looking like someone’s governess.”
“It won’t matter,” Rosamund whispered as her hair tumbled free. “He is not here to see me.”
A brush slid through the red waves.
“Of course he is,” Penelope said.
“He most certainly is,” Josephine agreed.
Rosamund’s mind raced. If he had read the article?—
If he had misunderstood?—
If he had come to object?—
If he had come to?—
The door burst open.
Eugenia slipped inside and shut it firmly behind her. All four sisters stared at her.
“Well?” Josephine demanded.
Eugenia lifted her chin. “I was just in time to hear Godrey announce him.”
“And?” Imogen demanded.
Eugenia deepened her voice in imitation of the butler. “‘The Dukeof Bexley to see His Grace… in order to discuss his sister, Lady Rosamund.’”
Rosamund stopped breathing.
When another knock sounded at the door, her heart nearly exploded.
This time, it was Felicity who stepped inside—and her gaze went directly to Rosamund.