“He is not what I expected,” Eliza said. “He is very?—”
“Dramatic?” suggested May.
“Loud?” offered June.
April snorted. “Controlling?”
Eliza smiled. “Attentive,” she decided, surprising even herself. “He notices everything. And he remembers it, even if he pretends not to.”
There was a moment of pure sisterly approval. The three triplets seemed, by unspoken agreement, to accept her as one of their own.
“He is better since the wedding,” May declared. “Calmer. I think he missed having someone to look after.”
“Don’t tell him that,” urged June. “He’ll take it as a challenge and build an orphanage.”
April leaned in. “Did he tell you about the time he challenged the Viscount of Whitchurch to a duel?”
“He does not mention his heroics,” Eliza said. “I am only told of his debts and his vices.”
“He was not dueling for honor,” June said. “He was dueling because Whitchurch insulted April’s bonnet. Said it looked like a cabbage. So, August called him out at dawn, and then at the last minute, he switched the pistols for epees because he knew Whitchurch had a limp arm. He only wanted to terrify the man.”
“He let the Viscount win,” April confessed, “and then gave him a cabbage as a peace offering. They have been friends ever since.”
“I do not know if this is comforting,” Eliza admitted.
“It should be,” said May. “He has always been a disaster, but he is our disaster.”
“Now, he is your disaster,” June observed.
“And you are ours,” April said. “So, you must come to all the teas, even if you hate them.”
Eliza felt her guard thinning. She was unused to this sort of warmth—unconditional, reckless, and a little embarrassing.
“If you are determined to make me part of your family,” Eliza said, “then I must insist you drop the ‘Marchioness or Lady Barrington’.’It is exhausting.”
“Never again,” April promised and raised her cup. “To Eliza.”
“To Eliza,” echoed the others.
They drank, and Eliza found her cup was empty again.
May refilled it with a grin. “What else shall we discuss? Do you wish to hear all of August’s childhood secrets? Or do you want to know which member of the ton is most likely to expire of scandal this season?”
“Or,” June said, “do you wish to tell us your own secrets in return?”
The prospect should have been horrifying, but with the fire and the lemon scones and the gentle, persistent gaze of the three women, it was not.
“I have few secrets worth telling,” Eliza said.
“Untrue,” argued April. “You have the best secret of all. You married the only man in London whom Lady Wilhampton could not ensnare.”
There it was—the knife under the cake. Eliza kept her expression even, but her pulse sped.
“I was not aware Lady Wilhampton had set her sights on August,” Eliza replied.
All three sisters exchanged a look, part amusement, part caution.
“Everyone in town knew it,” May said, “but August was always too clever for her.”