“You’re going to have to start acting like a proper lady soon,” Silas said, his back in the grass, staring at the dark clouds as they passed overhead. His twin snorted, the sound terribly unladylike, and flipped over to perch on her elbow, looking into his face.

  “How is it, really?” Madeleine asked. “To be around all those snots.”

  He sat up and plucked at the grass around him, arranging the blades in patterns on her skirts.

  “I’m never alone, not even for a minute, before somebody comes up to speak to me about father’s business, or how is my dear sweet mother?, or you, sometimes. Occasionally they’ll talk about business and I just nod and shake my head at them.”

  “They ask about me?” Madeleine sat up too and her twin took her hand, turning it over to trace the lines of her palm. His eyes met hers and he smiled teasingly.

  “Everyone wants to meet the Duke’s beautiful, elusive daughter,” he said. “It’s rumored you’re the prettiest girl from here to Devonshire.”

  “They can take their pretty and shove up right up their arses,” she spat. He laughed and covered her mouth with his hand.

  “You’re going to wind up a spinster,” Silas said when she bit his palm.

  “Good.”

  He shook his head. “If you come off as a bluestocking at your debut, father’ll have a fit. Mother too.”

  Madeleine shrugged, stretching backward. Her brother’s concerned gaze followed the line of her body. “Let them.”

  It was then they stood, wiping each other clean of grass trimmings and dirt, and headed inside for tea with their parents. Madeleine found that the older she got, the more insufferable they grew. Especially lately, as they were finally preparing her to be introduced to society, and so every movement she made or word that escaped her lips was corrected by either one of them. Silas, for his part, kept quiet, sometimes held her hand under the table. He’d always been the serious one, more well-behaved, and being the heir, he had been a part of society since before he became of age. Her parents had kept Madeleine hidden away, appalled by her manners, her sharp tongue, until now. They had no choice but to debut her. It was time for her to find a husband.

  The thought made her gag.

  “Madeleine,” said her father, the Duke, bringing her out of her reverie. “Are you ready for your introduction next week?”

  “I don’t know, father,” she said cheekily. “Do you think I’m ready?”

  Her mother huffed. Silas covered his mouth with his napkin to stifle a smile.

  “I think you’d better well be,” said their father. “I won’t have you sitting around in your books anymore, running about like a child. You should be more like your brother.”

  “My brother reads,” she pointed out. “And he has grass stains on his trousers.”

  Their father shot Silas a look but didn’t say anything to him. “Then you should be more like your mother.”

  Madeleine guffawed. She couldn’t help it. Her mother was the last one to set an example on how to attract a match. She was pinched-looking and shrewd, cold to men and women both. Madeleine didn’t know whether it was deliberate or not, but during most events her mother hid away upstairs, claimed an illness or that she was simply tired. Madeleine had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t entirely her mother’s idea to keep from underfoot, but would never say such a thing aloud.

  Silas pinched her on the thigh and she looked at him, receiving a warning look.

  “I’m sorry, mother,” she said, bowing her head graciously. “I’m only teasing. Father, I think I’m more than prepared for next week’s introduction.”

  “How so?” her father asked.

  “Miss Lacey was a good governess,” Madeleine said, a hint of sharpness in her words. The governess had been let go without a single penny the moment the twins turned of age. She had been kind and smart, taught Madeleine her love for books and drawing. The governess did teach her manners, as well, and it wasn’t the woman’s fault that Madeleine found them too tiresome to follow.

  “Miss Lacey,” her father snorted, but said no more. They ate in silence the rest of the meal, Silas finishing first, excusing himself to go upstairs and read before bed. Madeleine picked at her food until her parents found it too annoying to continue and bid her leave the table.

  Madeleine went straight to bed after dinner. She was tired, exhausted by her parents, and had been out in the sun with Silas all day. She undressed and called for a bath, then soaked in the steaming water until her fingers were pruned and her skin was rosy. Silas knocked on the door to her chamber and she called for him to come in. He sat beside her by the tub, eyes never leaving her face. He would usually talk to her while she was bathing but never let his eyes wander over her naked body under the water.

  “You look sad,” she said, reaching a wet hand forward to touch his stubbled cheek. “What is it?”

  “They’re shipping you off,” he said, holding her hand to his face, kissing her fingers. “We’ll never see each other.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “And we’ll write.”

  “I don’t want to write.”

  She sighed. “You know what I’ll do, then?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll be so disgusting that no man will ever want to marry me. I’ll be hideous.”

  “You could never be hideous,” he told her. “You look too much like me.”

  She splashed at him, but it was true. Same thick, dark hair. Same green eyes and fine, straight noses. Same full lips and high cheekbones.

  “You know what I mean,” she said. “I’ll pick my nose at any man who approaches me. I’ll talk about books and sit like a man and drink too much.”

  Silas skimmed his fingertips along the top of the warm water. “You know you can’t do that. They would send you away anyway.”

  “I know.”

  He got up then, kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t even want to think about it,” he said. “Good night, sister.”

  “Good night.”

  ~~

  Silas had avoided the suitors his parents had arranged for him. For the most part, unlike his sister, they’d given him the freedom to court a woman of his choosing, provided she held the right status in society and was relatively free of scandal. All the girls he’d fucked had been plenty scandalous. He, himself, was no angel. But it hardly mattered. He was the Duke’s son, the heir, and he could do what he wanted.

  The same did not apply to Madeleine.

  He sighed when he thought about her, his poor sister. She was inexperienced and hard-headed. He had no doubt that she’d have trouble making any match at all, mostly because she was unwilling and unable to submit as she was supposed to, to make herself docile and pliant to the rules of high society. He doubted very much that she would turn into a harlot, either. She was beautiful, and she’d be pursued, but seemed to have no interest in men. Half the time, she had no interest in anybody but him. It pleased him to a perhaps inappropriate degree, as he felt the same way about her. They had been inseparable since birth, refusing to sleep in their own rooms up until about two years previous, and still spent every possible moment together when he wasn’t busy under his father’s tutelage and she wasn’t busy doing whatever it was she did to vex their parents so. He smiled at the thought of it and found himself on his feet before he knew it, padding barefoot down the hall to her room. He knocked and entered before she answered. She was fast asleep in bed, and when he curled up behind her she simply took his arm and wrapped it around her waist, conforming her body to his. He knew he would have to leave before the servants were up, but wanted to spend the night with her, to smell her hair and hold her close.

  He fell asleep sharing her pillow, just like he had for so many years before.

  ~~

  Madeleine’s brother had been in her bed every night the week leading up to her debut. It was comforting to her to have him close, calmed her nerves every morning it came closer to her having to present herself to a high society she had only heard about through secondhand stories. The evening of the ball, her lady’s maid Rose was helping her into her gown, mooning over it as only a low-born girl could. And it was beautiful, all sapphire lace and long silk. The pearls around her throat felt like they were choking her but she wore them with a rouged smile as she made her descent down the stairs, presenting herself into a crowd of strange faces that looked at her as if she were meat being served on a platter.

  The room grew quiet as she entered and stood with false pride at her father’s side.

  “Gentlemen, ladies, may I present to you my daughter, the Lady Madeleine Drake.”

  Madeleine curtsied appropriately, plastering a smile on her face, and stood still as the room resumed its noise and activity. She felt awkward and suffocated when she was approached by a woman who was thin as a reed, red-haired and just a bit older than Madeleine herself.

  “My lady,” the woman curtsied. “It’s so nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

  “Uh,” said Madeleine. “Who are you?”

  The woman looked slightly shocked at Madeleine’s candid question, but the expression passed as quickly as it came.

  “I’m Harriet Dunlop,” she said, “daughter of the Marquess of Eberly.”

  “Oh,” said Madeleine. She had no idea who the Marquess of Eberly was or whether or not he was remotely important. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

  “I’ve come across your brother on several occasions,” said Harriet.

“He’s quite charming, from what I’ve heard. I always knew his sister would be just as beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” said Madeleine, who was beginning to get the point. This woman wanted an introduction. No, she wanted to become friends with Madeleine, to have her put in a good word. The whole thing was vexing and tiresome. Madeleine excused herself without further banter, making her way through the crowd, occasionally being stopped by someone who wanted to introduce himself or ogle her breasts. Silas was nowhere to be found and Madeleine kept receiving scathing looks from her father. She smiled at him as if happy to see him, and made her way across the room.

  “Madeleine,” he said. “This is the Earl of Withington, Lord Peter.”

  “My Lord,” said Madeleine, curtsying for the man. He was young—far too young to be an Earl in his own right, handsome and proud. He looked at Madeleine with curiosity on his face, and something like pleasure.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Madam,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it right in front of her father, who did not look affronted but relieved that Madeleine had somehow managed to make it two sentences into a conversation without offending the Earl.

  “Might we dance?” asked Lord Peter. Madeleine didn’t dance.

  “No, I don’t think so,” she said. Her father shot her a look of pure poison.

  “Sorry,” she added.

  Lord Peter smiled at her, genuinely smiled, but maintained a cool composure otherwise.

  “Very well, my Lady,” he said, bowing, then nodded to Madeleine’s father. “Your Grace, lovely to speak with you, as ever.”

  “Do come pay me a visit this week to continue our discussion,” said her father. The Earl nodded and walked away, charmingly leading another woman into a smooth, eloquent dance.

  “What are you doing?” her father hissed, low and poisonous in her ear.

  “I didn’t want to dance,” she shrugged. “I don’t think he was offended.”

  “You’ve disregarded every man who has tried to speak with you tonight.”

  It was true. Each time she’d been stopped by a stranger, she’d quickly disengaged herself. Nobody interested her. The ball bored her. She wanted to go upstairs, to read, to find Silas, though he was probably with a woman in his rooms. She knew that’s what he did at the balls. She’d heard him through the walls once, listened with uncomfortable curiosity as his lady moaned and cried out his name with pleasure Madeleine had never experienced. Since then, she’d neglected to go past his rooms after soirees. Best not to think about it.

  “I’d like to go to bed now, father,” she said, and walked away before he could say anything. She would be in a mess of trouble in the morning but for the moment all she wanted was peace and quiet. She took the stairs as quickly as her dress would allow her, paused outside of Silas’ door when she heard silence in his room and was about to knock when her face twisted her body to face his and slapped her hard across the cheek, sending her reeling backward. A moment later, Silas opened his door, his chest bare and hair tousled, his skin flushed red.

  “What happened?”

  “He hit me,” said Madeleine flatly. Her eyes were watering but she would not cry. Already, she felt her cheek and lip begin to swell.

  “Father?”

  “She’s acted like a damned child tonight. She’s embarrassed us all.”

  Silas looked at her, his face etched with concern. He knelt beside her and touched his fingers to her swollen lip, then looked up at their father.

  “She’ll do better next time. Won’t you, Maddy? She’s sorry.”

  Madeleine bit her lip and tasted blood. She would have liked to argue but knew that there was no point at that moment. Instead, she nodded.

  “Silas,” said their father. “Get that girl out of your room.”

  It was the last thing he said before he walked away.

  “Go into your room,” said Silas. “Wait for me.”

  She did as she was told, curling up on her bed, her fingertips on her sensitive cheekbone. After a few moments, he entered, a cool cloth in his hand. He lifted her to a sitting position and pressed it against her face, his eyes searching hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said.

  “It’s not your fault he’s an arse.”

  Silas laughed and kissed her forehead.

  “So you had a girl in your room?” she asked teasingly.

  “Yes,” he said, looking abashed. She took the cloth from him and held it to her own cheek.

  “What were you doing?”

  “I was fucking her.” That was it. His words were blunt. The twins didn’t cut corners or speak in euphemisms to each other.

  “Was it nice?”

  “It was fine,” he said, grinning.

  “Such a high compliment,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wonder if she would call it ‘fine.’”

  “I think she’d have a better way to describe it, considering the things she said to me,” he told her, laying back on her bed and looking up at her.

  “Maybe I should try it,” said Madeleine.

  “No.”

  “Hypocrite,” she spat. “Just because I’m a girl—“

  “It’s not because you’re a girl,” her brother said, reaching upward to gently stroke her swollen cheek. “It’s because nobody is good enough to touch you.”

  “You’re touching me,” she said, her breath hitched in her throat.

  “I’m different,” he told her. And that was true. She lay next to him then, on her back, and he took her hand in his and laced their fingers.

  “Will you sleep with me tonight, Silas?” she asked after a moment.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  ~~

  When she woke, it was very early in the morning, and her brother was gone. Presumably to his own bed, but he was known to wake before the sun rose anyway, to read or to walk the grounds on nice mornings. It was beautiful outside, the sun peeking over the horizon. When she opened the window, Madeleine smelled rain on the wind. She also noticed a carriage outside and saw a strange man step out of it. It wasn’t until he tipped his face upward that she realized it was the Earl of Withington himself, Lord Peter, handsome and glowing in the soft sunlight. He seemed to be staring right at her, so she darted away from the window, wrapping a robe around her body. She dressed in a casual gown that was far too tight for comfort and made her way downstairs to join her parents for breakfast. If Lord Anthony noticed the bruise on her cheek, he made no comment, only greeted her cordially, standing up as she took her seat at the table. Silas sat across from her and rose one eyebrow, but she ignored him and focused on her food as the Earl and her father began to talk.

  “I’d like to go for a stroll with Lady Madeleine this morning, if it pleases you,” said the Earl. Her name drew her attention and she looked between the young Lord Peter and her father with pleading eyes. Please no. She wanted no contact with the man, handsome or not.

  “I think that would be perfect,” said her father. “Madeleine would love to.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  So they set off after breakfast, the two of them walking slowly around the large gardens that sat on the border of the estate. Madeleine was quiet, mostly because Lord Anthony did not stop talking. In fact, she had all but tuned him out when he asked her a question.

  “Are you fond of music, my Lady?”

  “Not particularly,” she answered, and then paused. “I’m sorry, I mean I’m not very familiar with it. I never learned.”

  “You’ve never had lessons?” he asked, slightly incredulous.

  “I wouldn’t take them. I didn’t like to sit still as a child. Silas is the musician.” And he was. Silas played piano beautifully, even sang like an angel.

  “So you were a willful child, then?”

  “I’d call myself free-spirited,” she said, and he laughed. They continued talking and this time she was able to keep up. She pointed out the different flowers to him in the garden, something she was actually familiar with, and they talked about mundane things until it was time to go inside. Madeleine thought she liked him okay. He’d made her laugh a couple of times and could hold a conversation without staring at her breasts. He was charming, too, and when they went back inside he kissed her hand again before she retired upstairs for the afternoon, hoping her father would be satisfied with a report full of only good marks from the young Earl.

 

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