She did not laugh. Instead, she leaned forward, turning her gaze toward the window that looked out upon the garden. "That is why I am asking for your help."
He frowned, thinking of what might cause such a serious conversation. Perhaps she had hoped to marry someone else. "Are you certain there is no suitor back in Boston?"
She looked at him directly, and he realized with a shock that she intended to prevail in whatever battle she was now waging. "If there had been, I would not be here now. I would have made certain to be married even if I had to create a scandal to bring the wedding about."
Would she heed a warning from him? No, not with the light of determination he saw glinting in her eyes.
He contented himself with saying mildly, "You know your mother much too well."
She rested her cheek against the wing of the chair and sighed. "I do indeed."
"I'm glad you can be sensible." He smiled, wanting to encourage a smile upon her face again. "Is there anything I can do to help — short of bustling you back to Boston?"
She did not smile, but she sat forward once again with a more congenial expression. "Let me go to call upon Miss Fenster."
"I cannot." Especially not with the sentiment she had just expressed. Put those two heads together and no telling what scandal would brew up around them. He shuddered at the thought. "I am sorry. But you must find another young flirt to befriend."
She rose and crossed to the window impatiently.
Again he had the sense that she might take flight. Then she turned, and he was relieved to see his little sister with the light of innocuous mischief in her eye. "If I did not know better, I would suspect that you object because you do not wish to put yourself in her company. Could it be that the practical businessman R.J. Hopkins has had his heart pierced by Cupid's arrow and is trying to fight the effects?"
"Sister, you speak nonsense."
"Do I? Then why are the tips of your ears turning pink?"
"Because you are suggesting something I find most appalling, I assure you."
"Why? She is beautiful. I saw the way she looked at you, R.J."
He bit his tongue to avoid blurting out the truth that he had been nothing more than bait in a trap set to snare Freddie. He stood up, determined to escape this conversation. "I have business to attend to, Susannah."
He sighed. Perhaps his sister would have returned to her senses by the time his business was finished and he was again home. To aid in that event, he leveled a parting shot at her as he left the room. "Don't you have a husband to avoid catching, little sister?"
She laughed but got the last word. "None as persistent as Miss Fenster."
* * * * *
"How long is she going to be under the weather? I saw her myself at the theater yesterday when I accompanied Rosaline and Helena there," Juliet fumed.
Miranda raised her head from the letter she was reading from the dowager duchess, Simon's mother. "The dowager says that little Sylvia has acquired the most appalling accent despite all her efforts to convince her to speak English properly."
Juliet did not care one whit about the dowager's daughter right now. "If she sounds as harsh and unkind as Mr. Hopkins, I pity the child's chance for a good marriage."
"She is only five, after all." Miranda laughed. "And Mr. Hopkins is from Boston, Juliet. Sylvia's accent, so the dowager says, is soft and slow, like those born in South Carolina — not so nasal as the northern Americans, such as Mr. Hopkins."
"Well, I never did understand why she married Mr. Watson and moved to America in the first place. Not to mention she was much too old to be a mother again. What was she thinking?"
"She was thinking she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Mr. Watson no matter where he was, I expect." Miranda turned back to her letter with a faraway expression in her eyes.
Juliet could understand that emotion. Wasn't that what she wanted with Pendrake? And she certainly didn't want to wait until she was an old woman, like the dowager, to make it happen. Which reminded her of her initial complaint — yet another invitation rejected by Miss Hopkins. "Obviously the Hopkins girl is more particular than she seemed upon first acquaintance. We shall have to find some invitation that will intrigue her enough to accept."
Miranda put her letter down with a sigh and gave Juliet a serious look. "Have you considered that perhaps her brother has forbidden her to visit us because he found your behavior too forward?"
"Preposterous. Not accept a visit to the duchess of Kerstone simply because he is a starched shirt of the worst sort?" The thought was quite worrying. Could it be true? If Miranda thought it, even without knowing the true nature of the conversation between them that evening — "Surely he would not."
"I have heard that he is quite protective of her, even though she is the daughter of his father's second wife and quite a bit younger than he." Miranda softened her expression, and Juliet could see the sympathy her softhearted sister held for her as she said, "I don't think it would be wise to continue to invite her when clearly, for whatever reason, she will not accept the invitation."
The truth, even spoken as gently as Miranda had, hurt badly. To have her behavior faulted by an American was the worst indictment short of outright scandal. "It is so unfair."
"Unfair or no, you must be careful. Overstepping propriety too often or too far can bring you disaster. Even Simon's reputation cannot protect you."
Juliet pictured the shame she might bring to her family should she cause a true scandal. "I know. I am a horrible person. How could I — "
"Nonsense." Miranda smiled dismissively, as if Juliet's problem were of no importance. "You are passionate and young. Wisdom always comes hardest to people who are saddled with both qualities in large measure."
"I suppose you are right," she conceded, though the words came with difficulty. She might have argued that she was not, at twenty-three, young. But her eldest sister, who had turned thirty and was still childless after seven years of marriage, would hardly agree with her.
No doubt Miranda, and all the rest of her family, believed Juliet should be sensible and turn her attention to a more available suitor. After all, it was only Juliet's heart that would break.
She forced a smile onto her lips in counterpoint to her thoughts. It would be of no use to have her sentiment dismissed as melodrama.
As if to judge her sincerity, Miranda watched her searchingly for another few moments and then, with another sigh, turned back to her letter.
Which left Juliet with the same dilemma as before.
How was she to find out Pendrake's true feelings? Perhaps she should simply follow her instincts and find a way to allow him to speak his feelings directly to her rather than trying to enlist Miss Hopkins to find out the bent of his heart. Miranda's warning was still too fresh in her ears. If he did not return her feelings, she would not like to look the fool, or worse, be subject to public shame.
Perhaps Miss Hopkins could be approached at a less private function. Juliet discarded that thought. She did not know how difficult it would be to pry the information from the girl. How unfortunate it would be to have her questions overheard, given that the topic of conversation would be Pendrake and his engagement.
An idea popped into her head, one so delicious she could not resist it. The one difficulty was that Miranda would never agree. Perhaps it would be better not to tell her until the matter was accomplished.
Miranda glanced at the clock on the mantel.
"Hadn't you better go up to give the girls their music lesson?"
"I suppose." Juliet wondered how she could instruct the girls in the proper technique to accompany themselves on the piano when her thoughts were consumed by this new plan of hers.
When Miranda looked up at her and tilted her head in surprise that she had not yet moved, Juliet rose. Her plan would work, she could sense it. Only she could not go alone. Hero might have done except she had returned to her estate yesterday — who had ever heard of calling a home Camelot? Of course, it did suit both Hero and Arthur. She sighed and for a moment considered trying to persuade Miranda before accepting the fact that her first assessment had been accurate. Miranda would forbid her.
As she climbed the stairs to the schoolroom, she realized the answer was literally right in front of her. Rosaline and Helena were the perfect companions for her scheme. They were not to be brought out in society until next year, but they were not too young to accompany her upon a call to the Americans.
She smiled to herself. Surely Miss Hopkins would not refuse to offer wise counsel to two girls who would be in her very same situation next year.
Trying not to show her impatience with the tedious details of the day's music lesson, Juliet just barely managed to keep her temper under control as she corrected Helena's fingerings, counseled Kate not to bellow her words, and forbade Rosaline ever again to sing the bawdy ditty she had gleaned from eavesdropping on the servants.
As she suspected, the girls were willing enough to be taken from their lessons, though Katherine, the governess, objected at first. "This time of day is for the improvement of the mind, Juliet."
"I do understand the schedule," Juliet, without a moment to consider, blurted out quickly. "I thought a visit to the museum would qualify as an improving exercise for the mind. Don't you?" She held her breath, awaiting the governess's answer.
Katherine agreed, after a moment's consideration and a glance that suggested she knew a visit to the museum was not Juliet's true objective.
Another moment of uneasiness passed as she noticed Kate and Betsey paying close attention to the conversation. It would be a tricky proposition should the youngest girls wish to go along.
Fortunately, Kate and Betsy both made faces at the suggestion. Apparently they thought the museum a most boring outing and quite willingly agreed to return themselves to their geometry lesson.
Everything worked out well until they came to the steps of the Hopkins's residence. There their card was accepted, but they were told, with only the most cursory delay, that the lady in question was not at home.
Juliet wanted to argue. There was a cold air about the footman's message that made her suspect that Miranda might very well be right in saying Miss Hopkins had been forbidden her company. But then she dismissed the urge. If she was considered an unsuitable influence, she was not likely to change that perception by demanding to be admitted to the residence.
"What shall we do now?" Rosaline asked, her hands on her hips. "I have no intention of going home before I must. I am dreadfully tired of conjugating Latin verbs."
"We can try again tomorrow, Juliet. Perhaps she will be at home then." Helena had always been the kinder twin.
"I must think of something." Juliet began to walk hesitantly toward home. For one foolish moment she considered calling upon Pendrake's mother. Even as she imagined it, she realized that would not serve at all.
In the end, her sisters persuaded her to go to the museum, as they had told the governess they would do. Rosaline always enjoyed the exhibition of swords and weapons of war; Helena, the sculpture and paintings.
There, to her great delight, Juliet spotted Miss Hopkins. The girl stood before a large marble sculpture, examining the work as if she intended to duplicate the lines and form once she returned home. For once Juliet used forethought. She checked her forward movement and stopped to observe the crowd. R.J. Hopkins was nowhere to be seen.
The fates had spoken, Juliet was sure of it. Eagerly, she approached the girl. "How delightful to find you here, Miss Hopkins."
The girl looked startled and a little uneasy. Her gaze surveyed the area nervously as she replied politely, "Miss Fenster, how kind of you to remember me."
"How could I forget you? You were so very kind to introduce me to your brother." A slight blush appeared upon the girl's cheek, but Juliet ignored the sign that her words had been unwelcome. "Let me return the favor and introduce you to my sisters. Rosaline and Helena, this is Miss Hopkins. She is visiting from America."
"Hello." Miss Hopkins's naturally outgoing nature took over at that point as she glanced at the girls briefly and then returned her gaze to them more fully. "My, you are remarkably alike. Are you twins?"
"Yes, we are," they replied in unison.
Her gaze traveling from one to the other of the pair, the American said in a tone of wonder, "I don't believe I have ever met twins who resembled each other so greatly before."
Rosaline answered dryly, "We may have similar looks, but our natures are very different."
Miss Hopkins took a step closer to them, obviously forgetting any warning she might have had from her brother. "How fascinating."
Juliet, rejoicing that the ice was now broken and Miss Hopkins was as open as she had been when they first met, said, "We have two sets of twins in our family."
"Indeed?"
She nodded. "Yes, the duchess and my brother Valentine are twins as well. But they do not look at all alike, to the relief of our family."
Their laughter was cut short by a curtly snarled "Susannah!" The voice, with its harshly unpleasant accent, was familiar.
Juliet turned to face Mr. Hopkins. "How nice to see you again, Mr. Hopkins," she lied with as much gaiety as she could manage. "I was just explaining to your sister that my family boasts two sets of twins. May I introduce my younger sisters, Rosaline and Helena Fenster."
"Miss Fenster." He nodded politely at her sisters, but his glance came back to her and held, focused for a pointed moment on her buttons once again. She had an urge to apologize for the carved ivory elephants. She quelled it. It was no business of his if she chose to use a few pretty buttons to decorate an otherwise plain outfit. Only a man without a heart or soul would concern himself with whether a button actually has a useful purpose.
"I am delighted to see you," he said, although his expression did not match his rather wooden words. There was a fury burning in his eyes that she very much feared she had caused.