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A knock on the door, followed by Delphia bounding into my room, interrupted my wandering mind.

“Good morning.” Delphia rushed over to perch on the side of my dressing table. Apparently, she’d been up for hours. She was dressed in her riding clothes and a wide-brimmed hat and smelled of morning sunshine. “I thought you’d never wake this morning. Didn’t you hear me pounding on your door earlier? I wanted you to ride with me.”

“I’m sorry. I was tired, I guess.” I smiled over at her to reassure her I was all right, but my sister was no fool. We knew each other too well for that.

“What’s wrong?” Delphia asked, her tone softer than the moment before. “You look like undercooked bread.”

Despite my misery, I laughed and caught Bitty’s gaze in the mirror. “Bitty was kinder in her assessment of my appearance this morning.”

“Never you mind, Miss Addie,” Bitty said, bobbing her head, as if I’d asked her a question. “You’re always very pretty, even on a bad day.”

“Dear Bitty,” Delphia said. “I can take it from here. I’d like to talk to my sister before breakfast.”

“Is it all right?” Bitty asked me, bringing the hairbrush close to her chest.

“Yes, it’s fine. Take a little break,” I said.

“I saw Harry out by the stables.” Delphia grinned and took the brush from Bitty’s outstretched hand. “Take him a little breakfast and give him a kiss.”

“Miss Delphia.” Bitty blushed pink, then red. “Both of those things are against the rules.”

“Phooey. No one cares if you take a roll or two,” Delphia said. “And some jam, of course.”

My sister was incorrigible. Teasing poor Bitty was one of her favorite pastimes.

“Miss Addie, will you be sure to go down for breakfast?” Bitty asked. “Your mother always asks me if you’ve eaten.”

I smiled. Mama, despite the fact that I was a grown and very healthy woman, still worried about my eating habits. No one could blame her, including me. She’d almost lost me to malnutrition when I was a child. Fortunately for us, my brother Theo was clever enough to figure out that I had an allergy to wheat. Since then, as long as I stayed away from bread and other items made from flour, I was fine. “I’ll be sure to have some the moment I get downstairs.” I said this even though the idea of food made my stomach twist. What I really wanted was to hide under the covers for the rest of the day.

Bitty nodded and scurried from the room. Despite her embarrassment, I had a feeling she would go out to see her Harry before returning to her next chore.

The moment she was out the door, Delphia waved the brush at me and perched on the edge of my dressing table. “What’s wrong with you this morning, sister of mine?” We had the shades drawn halfway to keep the intrusive sunlight at bay, but a sliver sliced across my sister’s face. Her blue eyes inspected me like a prison guard. “Don’t try to deny it. I can see you cried yourself to sleep last night.” She patted rouge on my cheeks. “There, that’s a little better.”

We’d moved from our childhood nursery into separate bedrooms after Fiona married. Still, we were attached with an invisible thread. No one could read me like my little sister. I’d not told her of my affection for James West. It’s the only thing I’d ever kept from her. Why? I suppose I couldn’t bear her teasing. Not about him, anyway. Everything else, perhaps, but not this. However, in my miserable state, I was sorely tempted to spill it all here in the morning sunshine.

“If I tell you, can you promise to keep it to yourself?” I asked.

“Of course. That’s our sisterly pact.” She gestured for me to close my eyes so she could swipe a light pink onto my eyelids.

“Yes, it is.” I glanced toward the hallway before doing her bidding by closing my eyes. I waited until she was finished before speaking further.

She returned to her perch, watching me. As much bravado as my sister had, she was loving and kind, especially when it came to me. Perhaps because I’d been so sick as a child, she felt protective of me, even though she was the younger of us. “Addie, what is it?” Her thin eyebrows raised slightly. “You’re scaring me.”

“I have a secret. A terrible one.”

“What did you do?” Her eyes widened in horror. If I knew her, she was probably conjuring up all kinds of sins. Ones she herself would commit. Which gave us a wide breadth.

“I haven’t done anything.” I tapped my chest. “It’s what I’m feeling, not what I’ve done.”

“Yes?” She seemed somewhat relieved. “What are you feeling?”

I spoke just above a whisper. “It’s James.”

She was silent for a moment. When I peeked up at her, she watched me with a mixture of pity and comprehension on her pretty face. “I had a feeling. Last night, I saw it on your face. I’d not suspected before.”

I nodded, too miserable to speak. The truth had stuck in my throat, but I didn’t have to say the words. Delphia knew.

“But he’s ancient,” Delphia said. “Isn’t he the same age as our sisters?” When she spoke about “our sisters” she meant Fiona and Cymbeline.


Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical