How perfect they were together. Tall in stature. Strikingly dark. The lady was lithe and willowy, unlikeFleur, whose dresses had recently needed letting out.
Their bodies moved with graceful fluidity as Henry led the duke’s sister through the seductive steps. So lost was Henry in his partner that even if the rest of the room had been on fire, he wouldn’t have noticed.
Fleur’s legs dipped under her.
Mother and Cassia had her, but barely. More McQuoids rushed to the scene, well-meaning and concerned.
This time, her blissfully in love cousin, Meghan, swept in with Lord Culross and her cousin, Andromena, close behind.
“Fleur?” Meghan asked, her voice agitated. “What is wrong—?”
Henry’s first betrothed.
Her heart trembled.
“Not here.” Their mother cut Andromena off without moving her lips. “Your concern is appreciated, but you’ve drawn even more attention than Fleur needs.”
Mother and eldest, protective sister shared a look.
“Come.” With the maturity and discretion Cassia had developed into since motherhood, she took charge; Cassia expertly squired Fleur from the ballroom and through double doors until they arrived on the veranda, which overlooked Lord Winfield’s parklike grounds.
Once outside, she escorted Fleur to a nearby wrought-iron bench. They sat down hard, together. Sisters. Side by side. Shoulder to shoulder.
Crisp, clean air flooded her nose and lungs, purifying and healing. The cool spring breeze was akin to a balm upon her clammy body. Until at last, Fleur could breathe freely, and her head cleared.
Cassia rested her cheek atop Fleur’s shoulder. “Were you really peaked or did you want a quick escape?”
She mustered a playful lie for her sister’s behalf.
“Both.”
Their laughter blended into the sibling song composed of that most special bond, and it possessed the healing properties of a great elixir that vanquished pain and hurt. For a short moment, Fleur was able to forget remembering Lady Angela being guided down the marble floor with Henry’s arms and fingers twined about her and with hers.
But only for a moment.
She went motionless.
No. No. No. No. No.
The sick feeling returned, and this time it was accompanied by a frenzied heartbeat, and Fleur thought she might be dying, and thought that might be preferable to discovering…
She…she…cared for Henry. Sweat moistened her forehead.
No. No. No. No. Worse.She—
Fleur jumped to her feet and had to catch the arm of the chair to keep from falling.
Cassia tensed. “Fleur—?”
“As I suspected, Fleur and Cassia found a way to beg off.”
They let out matching shrieks and turned towards an affronted Quillon. His hands dropped on his narrow hips and, wearing a dark scowl, he looked better suited to one of the family ships and not Cassia’s terrace.
Except, as he came strolling over, the grin he reserved for Fleur used the muteness of twin-speak to say:I’m jesting. I’m just glad you’re all right.
The kiss he dropped on her cheek said it even louder.
Fortunately, Quillon’s twin-speak didn’t detect Fleur’s internal horror of,Lord help me, against all reason and judgment, I’ve fallen in love with the Duke of Hartwell.