of agony drew laughter from the servants, followed by a rush to bow or curtsy before the beautiful Frenchwoman. He introduced each of them by name, and Micheline realized that his visits must always be a cause for celebration. If the duke was as sour as she'd been led to believe, then this retinue was surely starved for the affection and respect shown them by Lord Sandhurst.
At length they were free to enter the castle. As they approached the mammoth arched doorway, a dark-haired young girl burst through the portal and ran forward to throw her arms around Sandhurst.
"Andrew! Oh, Andrew! You've come!" She was actually weeping with joy, her face buried against his shoulder.
He had to let go of Micheline to return the girl's fervent embrace, a fond smile warming his brown eyes.
"Of course I've come, child. Did you doubt it?"
"Don't leave me again, Andrew. I couldn't bear it! Please, you must promise!"
"I'll do nothing of the kind. Loose me, Cicely, and meet your new sister, Micheline."
The girl pressed her lips together and reluctantly withdrew her arms from his neck. Micheline, who had been somewhat taken aback by the emotional scene she'd just witnessed, mustered a warm smile. Although Cicely kept her eyes averted, it was readily apparent that she was a beauty. Lustrous dark curls tumbled over her shoulders and the gently curving bodice of her pink satin gown, and her face was delicately enchanting.
"Greetings, Cicely. I'm so happy to meet you at last, for I know how dear you are to Andrew."
Cicely raised wet sable-brown eyes and replied in a monotone, "Welcome to Aylesbury Castle, mademoiselle."
"I'm sure you two will be great friends," Andrew said with forced cheerfulness. Silently he remembered the words his sister had spoken that night in London: "I hope that Mademoiselle Tevoulere is a toad!" Cicely was by far the most endearing member of his family. If she would not open her heart to Micheline, it appeared that there was little chance for a happy relationship between his wife and her new family.
For Andrew's sake, Micheline decided to try again. "Cicely, I have to confess that I have always wished for a sister. Much like you, I had only a much older brother. Perhaps we will be able to be the sisters that neither of us had before."
The younger girl shrugged and looked away. "Pretending's not the same, is it? Besides, I've been through this sort of thing before, inheriting fully grown family members. Rupert and Patience aren't exactly my idea of—"
Sandhurst gripped her arm tightly and interjected, "Micheline is not Rupert or Patience—I can assure you of that! Let's go inside now. I can hardly wait to see the rest of my charming family!" His voice was acid with sarcasm.
Although Cicely had always lived in dread of making her brother angry, this time her resentment of Micheline was stronger than her need for Andrew's approval. She allowed herself to be dragged along into the castle, and when he gave her a dangerous glare, she returned it defiantly.
The trio climbed a spiraling newel staircase in single file, emerging in a broad stone corridor that passed the family apartments. Micheline looked about as she walked, noting the fine tapestries displayed on the white walls and the woven rush mats that took the place of loose rushes. She'd expected the place to be gloomy, but in fact the castle's interior was remarkably clean and bright.
They came into the solar, which served as a private living room. Its southern exposure and high arched windows filled the airy chamber with April sunlight, while the hall, in the adjoining east wing of the castle, was too large and shadowy for the comfort of a small gathering.
Seated in a velvet-upholstered chair was a bony old man who narrowed his eyes at Micheline. A fur-lined satin coverlet was draped over his shrunken frame, and his feet were propped on an oaken stool. Behind him stood Rupert Topping, while a pale, long-faced young lady occupied a settle near the windows. She put down an elaborate piece of embroidery and watched the proceedings with tiny, alert eyes.
"You're looking well, Father," Andrew said in greeting. Holding Micheline's hand, he drew her across the room until the two of them stood before the craggy-faced Duke of Aylesbury.
"Bah! I'm dying and you know it!" The old man briefly took the hand proffered by his son.
Sandhurst wanted to throw up his hands and stalk out of the solar, but instead he forced a smile. "Happy news,