Blythe crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”
Mercy had the grace to blush. “I concede Leopold’s younger brother may have a few more rough edges than I’d imagined, or even believed possible for that matter. However, I’m sure with the right prompting he may be able to speak without sounding so shocking.”
“You’re hoping for a miracle.”
Mercy chuckled softly and shook her head. “I know. Do you forgive me?”
Blythe sighed. What was the use of holding a grudge? She and Mercy had always been closest. “Fetch Dr. Heyburn to attend me again and we cease to be sisters. That man is incompetent not to have realized I was feigning unconsciousness.”
Mercy leaped at Blythe and squeezed her in a tight hug. “You fooled me for certain that time, Blythe. Part of me was hoping you were tricking us, but part of me was afraid that Mr. Randall’s entry through the window had been too much for your nerves. You haven’t done that in years and I don’t care to be scared like that again.”
Blythe untangled herself from Mercy’s grip with as much dignity as she could muster and finished unpacking her things. “I’ll say one thing about Mr. Randall, he does like to make a dramatic entrance.”
A male voice cried out in outrage through the wall from the next room. The little bottles of perfume on her dresser shook.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” Tobias Randall shouted.
“Just shut up and sit down,” Leopold Randall barked in return. “You know this must be done.”
Mercy looked at Blythe, a frown creasing her brow. “Sounds painful.”
A warm glow filled Blythe’s chest as she dragged in a deep breath then let it go. She smiled. “Sounds perfect to me.”
~ * ~