more to offer than a lovely face. You know that. You are thoughtful and kind. Your knowledge of flowers and plants is superior. You can speak French even better than our governess, and Mama wanted you to read to her because your voice is so sweet. That is only the beginning of what makes you a treasure to everyone who knows you.”
“Bitsy, how could I so misjudge the marquis?” Cecilia exclaimed as though she had not heard a word her sister had said. “I mean, how could I take Lord Destry’s measure the way I did, without seeing the man of worth beneath his outlandish behavior?”
“For the love of God, Ceci.” Beatrice was confused and just a trifle exasperated. “What brought this on?”
Cecilia moved away from the window and walked into the dressing room, moving as though her gown weighed a hundred pounds. She stopped in front of the great cheval glass and then turned to face her sister, who had followed her.
“Did you hear what the marquis said when Mr. Garrett asked what we should teach our children?”
Beatrice thought back and shook her head, with apology.
“Lord Destry said that we should teach children to love one another.” Ceci took her sister’s hands. “He is one of the wealthiest men in England, related to the highest ranking nobility, and he thinks nothing is more important than loving one another. Is that not remarkable?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “And he said that he did not like intellectual discussions. Silly man.”
Silly man? And suddenly Beatrice understood. Her sister’s opinion of Lord Destry had changed dramatically.
“Are you developing a tendre for him?” Beatrice asked, and then regretted speaking so directly.
“Oh, no! I could never be a duchess.”
Now who was being silly? Cecilia would make a wonderful duchess and not because she was beautiful, but how many times could she argue that point in one night? She would pray that Cecilia was able to determine it for herself.
“Are you tired?”
“I wish I was. I am as wide awake as I am in the morning.”
“Then let’s find out where the gentlemen are gaming, on the pretext of seeing if anyone is riding in the morning. Then perhaps we can join them for a while. We did say we would let them teach us how to game.”
“Oh, Beatrice, I don’t think we should do that. It does not sound at all proper.”
“Of course it is.”
“I do not want to see—” Cecilia stopped mid-sentence and then went on. “That is, I do not want to go downstairs again. I want to go to bed.”
“But you said you are not at all tired.”
“Then we can talk or read to each other. I may not be fatigued but I have had enough of the others for now.”
“The others” being the marquis. “All right. We shall be each other’s maid like when we were younger. Turn around and let me undo your dress and stays.”
Once in bed with a branch of candles lit, Beatrice read a few passages aloud from their favorite poem.
“The Lady of the Lake must surely be Scott’s most successful poem,” Beatrice declared.
They were propped up against their pillows, not looking at each other. In fact when Beatrice glanced at her, Cecilia’s eyes were closed.
“I think it’s the sort of story that appeals to both men and women,” Cecilia mused. “Even more than Frankenstein.”
“Scott has battles and a love story that everyone can admire.” Beatrice set the book on the table next to her bed and blew out all but one candle.
“All right, Ceci. If we were casting it for an amateur theatrical you would be Ellen.” She went on before her sister could object. “Who would you choose to play James Fitz-James?”
“I think Lord Jess,” Cecilia said, playing along. “Even though Fitz-James was, in fact, King James the Fifth. He liked to visit his subjects in disguise so he must have had a sense of fun. Though I am not sure that Lord Jess has the right gravitas for such a role.”
“But the marquis is a more noble rank.”
“Oh no, he must be Malcolm Graeme.”
“Ellen’s beloved?”
“Yes, of course. He and Lord Destry share so many of the same qualities. They both are loyal, and ride like the wind.”
Cecilia ended her words with a jaw-cracking yawn and a murmured apology as she relaxed and closed her eyes. Beatrice felt a moment of annoyance. She was still not tired. What were they doing in bed before midnight? With a sigh she blew out the candle. “Good