Ciara softly. “For all your differences, you are still family.”
Kate felt her jaw tighten. “A fact that no doubt pains him every time he sees me enter one of the rooms of his gilded mansions. A wild weed among all his carefully cultivated blooms.”
“A shared interest in botany gives you some common ground,” pointed out Alessandra. “Perhaps if you tried to dig beneath the old resentments…”
“Yes, we, of all people, understand how difficult family relationships can be,” added Ciara.
“Thank you for the advice,” said Kate softly. “But I am afraid that just because you all have solved your own problems doesn’t mean you can solve mine.” Expelling a long sigh, she stared down at the dregs in her cup, wishing the dark tea leaves might provide some hint of her future. “The truth is, I have been contemplating whether to leave England. For good.”
“That is a very serious decision, my dear,” said Charlotte after a fraction of a pause.
“Yes. And not one that I have rushed into,” replied Kate. “I have been here for over a year.” She pushed her cup away. “And have never felt more like an outsider. None of you are forced to mingle with the other unmarried young ladies of the ton and listen to their silly schoolgirl prattle. They know of naught but the schoolroom and the pristine polished ballrooms of Mayfair, while I have sailed to some of the roughest hellholes in the world and experienced things they can’t even dream about.”
“I don’t blame you for finding the balls and soirees boring.” Ciara smiled in sympathy. “However, look at the rays of sunshine among the dark clouds. You met us, and you are a member of several other Societies that offer intelligent conversation and discuss interesting ideas.”
“I—I would miss all of you very much,” said Kate. “With all my family’s wanderings…” She let her voice trail off, suddenly afraid of revealing too much. Her nomadic life had been painfully lonely at times, and so the wit and warmth and wisdom of her fellow ‘Sinners’ was special beyond words. But she had learned from years of hardscrabble experience to keep her feelings hidden. Only the strong survived. She was tough, and self-reliant. She didn’t need to burden her friends with maudlin reminiscences.
“With all my family’s wanderings,” she resumed, taking care to sound nonchalant, “I’ve seen how very big the world is, and how many possibilities there are for an adventurous spirit.”
“Of course we shall support you in whatever you decide to do,” said Charlotte. “But I hope you will give it some more thought.”
“Yes,” chimed in Ariel. “Why not at least wait until the end of the year before coming to any final decision. Remember, the Amsterdam Tulip Society is presenting a symposium here in London on the history of the flower, which promises to be quite fascinating.”
Alessandra couldn’t help but laugh. “Only our little group would use science as an enticement, rather than men or fashion.”
“Thank God for that,” murmured Kate.
“Really, Ariel has an excellent point,” said Ciara.
“Very well.” Kate surveyed her close-knit circle of friends, realizing with a pang how much she would miss their company. “I’m in no hurry to spread my sails, so to speak. So I’ll weather the present squall at anchor. Perhaps, as you say, brighter days lie beyond the horizon.”
But she wouldn’t count on it.
The papers slid across the polished desktop with a whispery sigh.
Lynsley looked up from reading a set of reports from the English embassy in St. Petersburg. “Are you in or out—metaphorically speaking, of course. If you take the assignment, I expect that the only rigid element of your person will be your sense of decorum.”
“No seducing another man’s wife?” said Marco. He set his mouth in a slight sneer. “You may be impervious to fleshly desires, amico, but to expect me to go without female company for over a fortnight is asking a lot.”
The marquess drew the documents across his blotter. “As I said, I can assign—”
“However, considering the circumstances, I shall put business before pleasure,” drawled Marco. “Though God knows why.”
Lynsley’s well-groomed brows quirked up. “Your better nature usually rises to the occasion, in spite of yourself.”
Answering with a growled obscenity, Marco turned away and went to stand by the mullioned windows. Outside, a gardener was busy pruning a row of rose bushes. Snip, snip, snip. The withered blooms disappeared into a burlap bag.
If only it were so easy to cut off the dried, dead bits of one’s life, mused Marco. Perhaps, then,