Chapter One
Weston, England, August, 1814
The windows of the small sitting room of the Weston Hotel provided a sweeping view of the beach below. Persephone Barclay and her sister, along with their four friends, spent most of their afternoons there, having commandeered it for the month of August for three years running now. They sipped tea, read from books and newspapers, and shared everything.
This afternoon, they were missing one of their number, Persephone’s younger sister, Pandora, as she had consented to walk with the Earl of Banemore. Bane, as he was known, possessed a rakish reputation, but he’d proclaimed himself enamored of Pandora, and she was wholly in love with him—or so she’d confided to Persephone.
Persephone knew from experience that infatuation was not love, and only time would tell which of those Pandora was truly experiencing. She’d counseled Pandora to be cautious with the earl, but her sister was so wonderfully giddy that Persephone had also supported her desire to spend time with him.
Their walk would be chaperoned by Persephone’s and Pandora’s mother, the Baroness Radstock. A stiff and demanding woman, the baroness was positively ecstatic that the heir to a dukedom was courting her daughter.
The door burst open, and Pandora hurried inside. Her pretty, heart-shaped face was red, as were her eyes. She looked like she’d been crying.
Persephone leapt up from the settee she was sharing with Min—Lady Minerva Halifax, daughter of the Duke of Henlow. “Pandora, what’s happened?”
“Utter disaster.” Pandora buried her face in her hands and cried.
As Persephone put her arm around her sister and guided her toward the settee, Min jumped up and closed the door. Helping Pandora to sit, Persephone kept her arm about her, hating the way her sister’s shoulders were shaking. Whatever had happened must be truly awful for her to be reacting so poorly.
Min sat down on Pandora’s other side, putting her hand on Pandora’s back and murmuring words of comfort. With sable hair, delicately arched brows, patrician features, and pale gray eyes, Min was the embodiment of a proper Society miss, though she hadn’t yet had a London Season. Her gaze met Persephone’s with sympathy and concern.
The entire room had fallen into a worried silence except for Pandora’s sobbing. After a few moments, Pandora drew a ragged breath and wiped her hands over her eyes. “Forgive me, I’m completely overwrought.”
“Please tell me this isn’t Bane’s fault,” Persephone whispered, though she feared it was. The man, for all his declarations of admiration for Pandora, possessed the reputation of a cad. He flirted with anything in a gown and supposedly frequented a specific brothel in London called the Rogue’s Den. It was, apparently, where Society’s most elite gentlemen went for their bedsport.
Pandora sucked in a breath and nodded. “I don’t understand. He said he loved me.”
“What happened?” Min demanded. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to make sure he’s out of the Grove by nightfall.” The Grove was her father’s house situated just outside of town. Min, along with her companion, Ellis Dangerfield, spent every August there. Min’s older brother, the heir and Earl of Shefford, came and went during the month with various friends, including Bane. This year, they were joined by the Viscount Somerton, cousin to another of their friends, Tamsin Penrose, and Lord Droxford, a surly gentleman who seemed oddly aligned with the more jovial trio.
“He may be packing to leave even now. Or his valet is, probably.” Pandora sniffed. “Everything was going so well. Then Mrs. Lawler saw us…together.”
Persephone’s gut clenched. “Together how?” she asked in a low tone.
Pandora flicked her an apologetic glance. “Embracing. I suppose it was a…compromising position. That’s what Mrs. Lawler said anyway.”
“What did Mother do?” Persephone was afraid of the answer and surprised she’d allowed Pandora to come here.
“She wasn’t there,” Pandora murmured, her eyes full of regret. “I didn’t tell her about my excursion with Bane.”
Persephone stared at her sister. She’d lied when she’d said the baroness knew and would chaperone. It had never occurred to Persephone to confirm anything. She trusted Pandora to do the sensible thing. She had not, however, done that. But Persephone couldn’t blame her because she knew what it was like to be swept away by emotion and arousal. However, when it had happened to Persephone, she hadn’t been caught.
Min met Persephone’s gaze over Pandora’s head, silently conveying that this was not good. Persephone knew that, but she would hope it wouldn’t be a disaster, as Pandora had said.
“I wish my mother was at the Grove,” Min said. “I would ask her to speak with Mrs. Lawler.”
“Would she?” Pandora said hopefully. But then her face fell. “It doesn’t matter since your mother isn’t there.”
“A compromise isn’t the end of the world,” Tamsin said from the other side of the room. At one and twenty, she was just a year younger than Persephone. However, her youthful appearance—wide blue-green eyes and soft, round cheeks—and her relative isolation in Cornwall made her seem even younger. She spent August in Weston with her grandmother, who lived in a charming cottage near the beach. “My great-aunt was compromised. They simply got married, which had been their intent anyway.”
Persephone feared what Pandora would say next.
Pandora’s mouth tightened, and anger stole into her expression, lighting her eyes. “Bane will not marry me. After Mrs. Lawler saw us and gasped, she admonished him for compromising me, then congratulated me for ensnaring a future duke.” Pandora twitched and wiped away a tear before continuing. “Bane responded that he was, regrettably, already betrothed to someone else. He apologized to me—profusely, not that it mattered—and I ran away.”
Rage ripped through Persephone. She’d never wanted to do harm to another person, but in that moment, she would have gleefully watched Bane suffer any number of tortures. “If I were a man, I would call him out. If I could shoot, I would call him out.”
Min slapped her hand on the arm of the settee. “The scoundrel! He must be forced to marry you. I’m going to speak with my brother at once.” She stood, as did Ellis, who was seated in a chair angled near the settee.
Ellis, who at four and twenty was the oldest of their unofficial club, looked to Pandora with sympathy. “I’m so sorry for what’s happened. Men can be absolutely awful.”
“And yet we are all destined to marry one, whether we want to or not,” Tamsin said, also rising. “Why should a reprobate like Bane be allowed to ruin a sweet person like Pandora?”
“Because he’s an earl and heir to a dukedom. He can do whatever he wishes and likely suffer no consequences.” Gwendolyn Price, the newest member of their club, got to her feet as she shook her head. Her brown eyes glittered with outrage as her dark curls brushed her cheeks. “It isn’t remotely fair.”
“But what can we do?” Pandora asked forlornly.
Persephone clasped her sister’s hand and looked into her eyes. “We can vow to not let them get away with their behavior. We can band together and say enough. We won’t tolerate being treated this way, and we won’t play by their rules.”
“We’ll make our own rules,” Min said.
“Starting with, ‘never walk alone with a rogue,’” Pandora said bitterly. “And never flirt with one either.”
Gwen held up her hand. “Forgive me, but what is a rogue exactly? Are all men rogues?”
“Yes,” Pandora said emphatically.
Min sent Pandora a sympathetic look. “Not all men, but a great many who swan about with their privilege, their poor reputations for whatever transgressions they’ve committed, and their arrogance.”
“I would say rogues pay little attention to Society’s rules—or any rules, really,” Ellis said.
“That would be their privilege,” Persephone added with a nod. “They think they can get away with whatever they want without a care for anyone else. Utterly reckless.”
Min shrugged. “Some aren’t even that bad. In my experience, rogues can simply flirt too much. They think they’re irresistible.” She rolled her eyes. “They also tend to gamble and drink to excess. And, of course, anyone who spends time at the Rogue’s Den is, by definition, a rogue.”
“What’s the Rogue’s Den?” Gwen asked.
“A place in London where rogues go for their bedsport, and true rogues are not discreet about it,” Min said with a sniff. “One must be a member, and it’s rather elite.”
Gwen opened her mouth to perhaps ask how Min would know, but Min went on. “My brother is a member, and he is most definitely a rogue.”
“Your brother’s entire set are rogues,” Persephone said. “Except perhaps Droxford. I can’t say he’s exhibited roguish tendencies.”
“Not that we’ve seen, but one must wonder given his company,” Min said warily.
Gwen nodded firmly. “I think I understand. I daresay my brother may be a rogue. He is a terrible flirt. He also likes to do risky things—the more dangerous, the better, such as racing in a high-perch phaeton.”
“That is absolutely rogue behavior—more recklessness,” Min said.
“My mother despises when he does such things, especially since he always promises her that he will stop.” Gwen exhaled. “Rogues are likely not entirely truthful.”
Pandora scoffed. “Not at all. Bane vowed his eternal adoration just moments before he informed me that he was betrothed.”
Ellis curled her lip. “That’s another rule: never believe their pledges of love and devotion.”
“And when you hear of a rogue’s reputation, never doubt it,” Pandora added fiercely. “They are not to be trusted to change.”
“Indeed, once a rogue, forever a rogue,” Persephone said, squeezing her sister’s hand.
Pandora nodded vigorously in agreement. “Never, ever allow a rogue to see your heart. I wish I hadn’t.”
Persephone ached for her sister. “Never even give a rogue a chance. I wish I’d given you that advice.” She’d hoped Bane was not as bad as his reputation had purported him to be.
Min’s eyes glittered with intent. “Most importantly, if given the opportunity, ruin the rogue before he can ruin you.”
“Amen!”
“Huzzah!”
Cheers went around the room, and Persephone nearly sobbed at the sight of her sister smiling faintly. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“I shall record these so we may never forget the rules,” Ellis said, whipping a small book and pencil from her reticule. She sat back down and went to work writing.
“Thank you all so much,” Pandora said as a few more tears leaked from her eyes. “I fear I am ruined, but I hope you will all remain my friends.”
“Nothing could stop me,” Min promised. “And I’ll do everything I can to minimize the scandal.”
Persephone had never loved her friend more and knew that Min would use whatever power she had in Society to help Pandora. Even so, Persephone feared there would be nothing for it, that their family would simply have to remove to Radstock Hall and keep to themselves for the next year. There were worse things that could happen.
Such as the monumental lecture the baroness would most certainly deliver to Pandora—and Persephone. That was going to be painful. How Persephone wished she could take all this away from her sister. Why couldn’t it have been her? No one would care if she was ruined, except for how it might affect Pandora.
All the friends took turns hugging Pandora and offering their love and support. Thankfully, they still had another week together before they went their separate ways.
“Finished,” Ellis declared. “I’ll make copies for each of you and bring them tomorrow.”
The door opened again, and this time, it was the Baroness Radstock standing at the threshold. Her vivid blue gaze went directly to Pandora. “Mrs. Lawler has just come to see me,” she said softly, but Persephone heard the underlying fury.
Pandora stood shakily, and Persephone helped, rising with her.
“Come, girls, we must pack,” their mother said crisply as she pivoted in the doorway.
As it happened, they did not have one more week in Weston. They didn’t even have the rest of the day. Within the hour, they were on their way home, and the future, once bright with the promise of Pandora making a brilliant match, had never looked more uncertain.
Chapter Two
Radstock Hall, Somerset, England
They’d been home from Weston for four days, and Pandora hadn’t left the second floor where their former nursery and current retreat was located except to sleep in her bedchamber on the first floor. Persephone had shared her bed, insistent that Pandora not be alone. Doing so had reminded them both of their childhood when they’d shared a room. It was much easier for them to look back instead of forward. Pandora was certain her life was over.
Because their mother had said so repeatedly.
Now, Persephone had been summoned to the drawing room by her parents. They had, unsurprisingly, found a way to blame her for what had happened between Pandora and Bane. Persephone braced herself for another lecture on how she’d failed her sister and, in so doing, had ruined her family.
She stood outside the drawing room and looked at herself in the mirror hanging nearby. Her face was pale, expectant. She’d pulled her dark blonde hair into a tight chignon, which her mother found too severe, but what did it matter when they were at home? Mama always found something faulty about Persephone’s appearance, whether it was the bump in her nose or the lack of pink in her cheeks.
Taking a deep breath, she jerked her gaze from the mirror and stepped into the drawing room. “Close the door,” her mother, who’d become increasingly tense and cold in recent years, said without looking at Persephone. “Sit.”
Though she would have preferred to stand in defiance, Persephone did not want to invite even more displeasure. So, she sat. As far away from her mother’s chair and the hearth where her father stood as possible.
The baron glanced toward his wife—he typically checked in with her before he launched into any speech. They were a united front in everything.
“Your sister’s ruin demands your immediate marriage,” he declared. He smoothed his hand down the expensive superfine of his coat, his mouth pursing slightly, which pulled at his cheekbones. The expression drew one’s attention to the long, thick sideburns he’d grown about three years ago when the hair on his head had become noticeably thinner.
Persephone’s brain latched on to “immediate marriage” with the tenacity of a child gripping a biscuit.
“You are going to save the family,” her mother said with deceptive charm.
“With an immediate marriage?” Persephone swallowed a nervous, absurd laugh. She’d had not so much as a whiff of a marriage proposal in three years. According to her mother, she didn’t possess the necessary allure or beauty to attract a husband and was likely destined for spinsterhood.
Her mother nodded smoothly. “Yes, to the Duke of Wellesbourne. You remember his mother, the duchess?”
Certainly. She was a prominent member of Bath Society despite living separately from her husband. He was rumored to keep a mistress in London, and that all seemed perfectly normal to everyone. Persephone found it sad. Persephone also remembered that her son ran in the same crowd of reprobates as Bane and possessed an equally abysmal reputation as a rake who was completely unserious about marriage. They were the rogues to whom the rules she and her friends had crafted pertained.
Persephone’s stomach sank past the floorboards. They couldn’t expect her to wed a man such as he. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. In fact, she could hardly believe he would actually consent to it, but then he was a duke and probably felt it was his responsibility to finally take a wife. Persephone had no desire to be the fulfillment of his duty.
“I can’t imagine a hasty marriage is necessary.” Especially since Persephone wasn’t the one who’d been ruined. She inwardly cringed to think of her sister being identified that way. “We don’t know if there will be a scandal.”
The baroness glowered at her. “News of Pandora’s improper behavior appeared in the Bath Chronicle this morning, without names, of course, but everyone knows the rumor concerns her and Banemore, and it will surely find its way to London.” Full lips pursed and blue eyes narrowed, she looked pointedly at Persephone. “You will wed. Wellesbourne is an excellent match, particularly for you.”
Persephone refused to be bullied into a marriage she didn’t want. “Wouldn’t we all be better served if Papa forced Bane to wed Pandora?”
“That is not an option,” the baron clipped out. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his long nose, pinching it as if he smelled something awful. “I wrote to the Duke of Wolverton and confirmed what, Bane—Banemore—said, that he is already betrothed and will not break that contract because of a foolish encounter with your sister.”
Wolverton was Bane’s father, and apparently, he would dictate what happened, which was maddening. Dukes and their heirs shouldn’t be immune to consequences. But this was what rogues did.
The baroness smoothed her pale hands over her skirts. “I wrote to the Dowager Duchess of Wellesbourne immediately as her most recent letter said that her son is in need of a wife, and he dislikes the Marriage Mart. I explained that my lovely eldest daughter also prefers to avoid the Marriage Mart.” She leveled her gaze on Persephone. “She has invited us to come to their home, Loxley Court near Stratford-upon-Avon, to see if you and he will suit.”
Persephone hadn’t minded the Marriage Mart, just the unrealistic expectations that went along with it. She’d never fit into them, either talking about topics that were deemed uninteresting to gentlemen or saying nothing at all. “You expect me to marry a man I’ve never met?”
“You will meet him,” the baroness said. “And then you will wed.” She sounded confident, which was laughable given her insistence that Persephone was incapable of snaring a husband. Now she was suddenly going to catch a duke?
Not bothering to disguise her sarcasm, Persephone said, “It seems to me you’re placing a great deal of confidence in a situation in which you have until now deemed my attributes inadequate.”
Her mother lifted a shoulder. “While it’s true you aren’t the beauty that Pandora is, you at least possess more sense.”
How Persephone hated the comparisons their parents—especially their mother—made between her and her sister. Although, they weren’t wrong about Pandora being far prettier on her worst day than Persephone could ever hope to be on her best. Her lips were fuller, her hair thicker and shinier, her eyes more sparkling. Even her laugh was superior. She always sounded as though she were making music, and she looked lovely doing it. Persephone, on the other hand, was prone to snorting. Or even outright guffawing. Because of that, she tried very hard not to laugh. Except when she was with her sister or their friends.
The baroness went on, “I don’t expect you’ll be caught in a scandalous embrace with Wellesbourne. Not unless it becomes necessary to secure the match.”
Did her mother expect Persephone to do precisely what Pandora had done in order to ensure a marriage? “Given that Pandora is not currently betrothed, I would say your logic is lacking, Mother.”
“This is not the same situation,” the baroness said crossly. “The dowager is my friend, and if her son compromises you, there will be a wedding.”
Persephone barely kept her jaw from dropping. How awful that her mother was counting on the benefits of her friendship with this woman while also considering trickery to obtain what she wanted. For the first time, Persephone felt an overwhelming dislike for the woman sitting across from her, and it was a horrible sensation. She’d felt inklings of it for years, but she’d always tried to find the good in her, the ways in which her mother truly seemed to want the best for her. But this time, the baroness had gone too far, and Persephone wasn’t sure she could think of her mother as anything but an adversary ever again.
“Don’t look so horrified, Persephone,” her mother admonished. “This is a boon for you. To think that you will marry a duke is astonishing.”
Persephone wondered how else this might benefit her parents, beyond soothing the scandal Pandora had caused. They’d long commented on how Pandora would undoubtedly secure a match that would ensure they never worried about finances again. “I imagine his fortune is also attractive.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” her father asked defensively.
Persephone didn’t want to point out the paintings, decorative pieces, or furniture that had gone missing the last few years, or the fact that the constant stream of stylish clothing—primarily for her parents and certainly not for Persephone—had slowed this year particularly. It didn’t take a scholar to understand that her father was in debt. He and the baroness had argued for years about finances. Persephone had concluded that her father was not adept at managing Radstock Hall.
Answering her father’s question, Persephone dared to say, “It means I suspect you want this marriage for more than just social redemption.”
“Advancing the family’s prospects is a young lady’s responsibility,” her mother snapped. “Since Pandora can no longer provide that, you will need to do so.” The baroness fixed her with a dark, direct stare. “Whatever it takes.”
“I won’t trick him,” Persephone said in a low voice, her brain scrambling to come up with a plan to avoid this scheme.
Her father made a sound in his throat. “You won’t need to, my dear. Your mother is right. You are more sensible than your sister, and I imagine a duke who dislikes the Marriage Mart will prefer someone older and more sedate.” He pinned his gaze on Persephone and smiled faintly. “Like you.”
Older and more sedate. A prize catch indeed.
Persephone’s mother nodded. “That’s precisely why Wellesbourne will endorse this match.”
The idea of marrying one of Bane’s sordid friends was completely odious. “There has to be someone else who will meet your requirements for this immediate marriage,” Persephone said, though she could see her mother was set on this plan.
“Why look elsewhere when you can have a duke?” Her mother sounded exasperated. “Really, Persephone, I thought you would be more excited about this. Who could have thought you would have this opportunity?”
Who indeed.
Persephone felt as though the walls were closing in around her. She tried to recall what Wellesbourne looked like. He had auburn hair and an easy smile, and she supposed he was objectively handsome. “Just because he’s a duke doesn’t mean he’ll make an excellent husband. He has a reputation as a rake and is a friend of Bane’s. Think of Pandora. I would rather not consider him.”
“He could be whatever he wants and friends with whomever he chooses, and you will manage to accept him. You will be a duchess.” Her mother’s enthusiasm wasn’t surprising. She’d married above her station when she’d become a baroness. However, Persephone’s father’s title wasn’t prestigious, and his fortune was lacking. And now that Pandora wasn’t able to carry them up the social ladder, that duty had fallen to Persephone, the spinster-in-waiting.
“Only if he accepts me, which I find hard to believe.” A duke would want someone loftier than Persephone, even if she were staggeringly beautiful and possessed an excess of charm.
The baroness made an inelegant sound. “We are out of options, Persephone. Your sister’s ruin could be the ruin of us all. Is that what you want? I expect you to do whatever it takes to ensure this match is successful. If you can’t do that, then perhaps you shouldn’t be a member of this household. It’s not as if we hadn’t already planned to send you somewhere after Pandora was settled.” Her mother sniffed. “But all those plans are ruined now. This is a magnificent opportunity for you. I know you’ll come to see it that way.”
Persephone swallowed the emotion rising in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. It was already bad enough that her cheeks felt hot. They were likely ablaze with color. The message from her mother was painfully clear: she either married this abhorrent duke or she would be sent into spinsterhood. Which had apparently been the plan all along.
Her mother stood. “We’re leaving for Loxley Court tomorrow morning. There is much to organize. We’ll need to send Pandora to Aunt Lucinda’s in Bath, if Lucinda will agree to it. She won’t want to jeopardize her standing in Society, and it may be that Pandora’s presence would do that.” The baroness bustled from the room.
Persephone needed more time to plan. She wasn’t ready to be led to the slaughter, which was precisely how this felt.
“Chin up, my girl,” her father said, ambling toward her. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder and gave her another lackluster smile. His blue eyes were dull. Bored, even, as if he could hardly be bothered to conduct this conversation. “You’ll save this family yet. Won’t that be satisfying?”
Then he was gone too, leaving Persephone to wonder how she’d ended up in this impossible position. It wasn’t that she didn’t wish to wed. After years of hearing that she likely wouldn’t, she just hadn’t allowed herself to indulge the fantasy.
And now to hear that she must marry a blackguard to save her family’s reputation and fortune—for that was what seemed to be at stake—was beyond the pale. She wasn’t sure what was worse—that demand or the discovery that her parents had planned to send her somewhere after Pandora was married. Where was that, a nunnery?
If they wanted her gone, perhaps she should disappear entirely.
With leaden feet, she trudged upstairs to the second floor where their former nursery was located and which she and Pandora now used as a retreat. Pandora would listen to these new developments with sympathy and would share in Persephone’s outrage.
Contrary to what their parents thought, Pandora was quite clever. She’d simply misjudged Bane and had listened to her heart instead of her head. It could happen to anyone.
As expected, Pandora was snuggled into the window seat, a book in her lap. She was, however, not reading. Her gaze was trained outside as Persephone entered.
Not bothering with preamble, Persephone closed the door and stated, “They want me to wed. Immediately.”
Pandora turned her head. Unfortunately, the sparkle in her eyes that Persephone had thought of earlier was still absent. It had disappeared after Bane had compromised, then rejected her.
“Oh, Persey, I am so sorry.” Pandora grimaced, and Persephone began to worry that the stress and sorrow Bane had caused would permanently damage her beauty—not on the exterior, but inside. Pandora had always been vivacious, and her joy was contagious. It was difficult to be in her company and not feel good. But all that had changed.
“This is my fault,” Pandora continued.
“It absolutely is not,” Persephone said. “I encouraged you to determine your feelings for him, and I too believed what he told you.” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat what they now knew were lies—that he admired Pandora greatly and couldn’t imagine life without her. What nauseating drivel.
Pandora shook her head as she swung her legs to the floor from the window seat and set the book on the cushion at her side. “I will not allow you to accept any responsibility. I was foolish, and I knew better. Bane’s reputation well preceded him. I stupidly trusted him when he begged me not to believe everything I’d heard.”
The bitterness in her tone renewed Persephone’s desire to seek vengeance. “How I wish there were a way to punish him for what he’s done to you.”
“How I wish we’d come up with the Rogue Rules before I met him.” The barest hint of a smile curved her lips. “I do think I’m going to embroider them and hang it on the wall in here.”
Two written copies of the rules had arrived yesterday along with a letter from Min and Ellis. Min had said that her brother and his friends had left the Grove before she and Ellis had returned from the hotel. Then she’d called them cowards.
Pandora straightened her shoulders and fixed her gaze on Persephone. “Tell me what Mama and Papa said.”
“I’m to accompany them to visit one of Mama’s friends—the Dowager Duchess of Wellesbourne. Her son, the duke, is in need of a wife, and Mama insists that will be me.”
Pandora wrinkled her nose. “Wellesbourne? He’s one of Bane’s friends. Bane mentioned him several times. He said he’s a good sort, amusing, charming, but I’m sure those are lies too. Bane wished he was in Weston to meet one of my friends.”
One of her friends. Not Persephone. She focused her irritation on the man who deserved it—the scoundrel who’d broken her sister’s heart. “I shall take any recommendation from Bane as a black mark against a person.”
“That is probably for the best,” Pandora agreed. “I suppose you tried to tell Mama that you did not want to be forced into marriage.”
“Of course. That went as well as you could expect. Worse, actually. She said if I couldn’t ensure a betrothal, going so far as to suggest that I entrap him in a compromising situation, I may as well leave.”
Pandora gasped. “She didn’t say that!”
Persephone nodded, keeping the hurt and anger at bay. “She did.” Persephone didn’t want to add that the plan had always been for her to be sent somewhere. Pandora didn’t need to hear that on top of everything else she was suffering. Persephone could carry the pain of that revelation and of what felt like an awful betrayal by their parents on her own—at least for now. “Mayhap that’s what I should do. Leave, I mean, not force a compromising situation.” That her mother would even want to risk another scandal after what had happened to Pandora was appalling.
“I think you should,” Pandora said firmly. “In fact, you should go to Aunt Lucinda’s. Then she can talk some sense into Mama. Or Papa at least.”
Moving to join her sister on the window seat, Persephone perched on the edge. She gave her sister a sympathetic smile. “Mama hopes to send you to Aunt Lucinda’s.” Persephone didn’t want to mention the possibility that their aunt would say no. Pandora was dealing with enough after having her heart trampled upon by that rogue.
Pandora slowly nodded. “That is understandable. I couldn’t possibly go along with all of you to meet Wellesbourne.” She looked down at her lap. “In my state, I can’t accompany you anywhere. Perhaps Aunt Lucinda won’t even want me.”
“Nonsense!” Persephone grabbed Pandora’s hand, and her sister met her gaze. “Aunt Lucinda will go out of her way to eviscerate Bane as soon as she hears what’s happened. She will be your staunchest ally.”
“Yes. Probably,” Pandora murmured.
“She will,” Persephone said firmly, giving her sister’s hand a squeeze before releasing it. “In any case, I can’t go to Aunt Lucinda. You need her more than I do, and it’s the first place Mama and Papa would look for me. It’s probably best if I just go with them.” And do her best to ensure the duke wanted nothing to do with her. She’d been unmarriageable for three years without even trying, surely she could avoid the parson’s trap if she put in some effort.
“It’s unconscionable that they expect you to marry Wellesbourne.” Pandora’s brow furrowed. “I’m so sorry to have caused this, Persey. I hope you won’t hate me.”
Persephone gave her sister a warm, love-filled smile, desperate to ease her sister’s guilt. “I could never do that.”
“You won’t have to marry him,” Pandora insisted. “They can’t force you.”
No, but they could make her miserable. She saw no way to avoid accompanying them to Loxley Court. The only way to circumvent their plans was to make sure the duke wouldn’t want her as his wife.
Her mother’s words repeated in Persephone’s head. The baroness had never explicitly said Persephone was nearly worthless when compared to Pandora but threatening to throw her out of the household told Persephone exactly what she needed to know—that her parents didn’t value her as a daughter or even as a person. Persephone had never felt so horrid. Or so alone. She was simply a means to an end: saving the family.
Spinsterhood away from them couldn’t possibly be worse.
“I need to think about it,” Persephone said, trying not to let her sister see the turmoil inside her. “I’m sure the answer will present itself.” She could only hope.
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