Chapter Three

"B rother wishes to see the flock in the parlor," Merry called from the hallway, then scampered away. The delicate pat-patting of her lighthearted skipping faded as she raced off to gather the rest of the sisters, whom Chance so lovingly, and sometimes not so lovingly, referred to as the flock .

"Well, the flock is going to be short by one," Blessing said under her breath. "This little goose is staying put." She adjusted the declination on her telescope, then recorded the degree in her journal. Chance could go straight to the devil if he thought she was going to waste another moment of her life reflecting on the ridiculousness of last night. Besides, she felt sure Serendipity could give him a much more accurate, minute-by-minute record of all that had happened, because making lists and remembering every last detail was something at which her sister excelled—annoyingly so.

Merciful heavens, the tedium of Lady Atterley's ball had been excruciating, only relieved when Blessing had escaped outside to admire Ursa Major, Leo, and Leo Minor. The constellations had indeed been glorious last night. But then Serendipity had found her and dragged her back inside.

Blessing straightened and stared down at the entry in her journal. No. Serendipity had not dragged her back inside. The annoying Lord Knightwood had. Well, he hadn't dragged them but escorted them. She allowed herself a thoughtful puckering of her mouth as she stared off into the distance, recalling everything about the man.

One must never pucker, Mama's voice said quite clearly in her mind, interrupting her thoughts. Puckering mars one's face with dreadful lines.

The sage advice, in Mama's voice when she had been healthy, made Blessing swallow hard and rub a hand across her mouth to smooth away any wrinkles forming from the pucker. She hoped Mama's sayings never stopped popping into her thoughts. They kept her precious mother close.

She cleared her throat and tapped the graphite tip of her pencil on her journal. Her thoughts took it upon themselves to return to the impertinent Lord Knightwood. The man thought a lot of himself. That was easy enough to tell. If pressed, she might grudgingly admit he was rather nice to look upon. Some might even call him handsome with that coal-black hair of his and those dark eyes flashing with equal parts gallantry and wickedness. Yes, some might call him handsome. But that didn't necessarily mean that she would. He also enjoyed teasing a soul even more than Chance did—which lowered her opinion of him even more. He had said his name was Thorne. That made her smile. Thorne was a fitting name for him because he was as annoying as one.

A tall man. While they had waltzed, she'd had to look up to glare at him rather than aim her sourness at his cravat. "Powerful, too," she mused aloud. Even through her gloves, the strength of his hands and the muscular hardness of his broad shoulders had been impossible not to notice—even to someone more interested in stars than dance partners.

Lord Thorne Knightwood, he'd said, but hadn't expounded on his lordliness. She wasn't certain if Knightwood was his surname or place name. She'd never heard of the man, so didn't know his rank in the peerage other than he wasn't a duke, because then Serendipity would have Your Grace 'd the poor man to death. Her sister always knew who was who among the ton .

A heartfelt sigh slipped free of Blessing. Serendipity always knew who was who because when their mother had become too ill to leave her bed, she had kept up with all the latest on dit and dutifully reported it to Mama to bolster her spirits. If Blessing were to guess, Serendipity probably still kept track of all the gossip and relayed it to their parents through her nightly prayers.

Merry rapped her knuckles on the bold brass plate Papa had ordered installed on the door. The plate read: Blessing's Observatory. Entry by invitation only. You have been warned. "Chance is growing most impatient, and it is not fair that the rest of us must listen to him gnash his teeth because of you."

Blessing rolled her eyes at her youngest sister. "This is all so ridiculous."

"Ridiculous or not," Merry said, "since Chance can no longer afford the many entertainments to which he is accustomed, and most of his chums have turned out to be the fair-weather sort, it is we who must suffer with keeping him amused until we can be rid of him."

"Perhaps we should all donate to his monthly allotment." Blessing set the heavy glass paperweight on her journal, exited the observatory with Merry, and locked the door. "Then he could still play with his friends and leave us alone."

"I doubt we could afford Chance's amusements." Merry glanced down the hallway behind them, then lowered her voice. "Once, I overheard Papa shouting at him about behaving like a responsible man rather than a spoiled child." She covered her mouth but failed to stifle a giggle. "He also told him it was far past time for Chance to use his head for something other than a hat rack."

Blessing's heart lightened immensely. She could just hear Papa bending Chance's ear about his irresponsible behavior. She caught hold of her sister's hand and gave it a squeeze. "We will get through this. I'm sure Mama and Papa both are watching over us."

"Well, I wish Papa would thump Chance on the back of the head and make him be quiet."

Blessing couldn't hold back an amused snort just as they entered the parlor where the rest of the family was gathered.

"I do hope your dance partner from last night is the reason for your joyous mood, dear sister." Chance beamed at her from where he stood in front of the hearth with the rest of their sisters perched in chairs, facing him as if he were about to read them a sermon. Before she could counter his remark, he swept a disappointed gaze across the others. "From what I observed and from all that Serendipity tells me, last night you were the only one who even attempted to cooperate."

"Attempted to cooperate?" Blessing snorted again before looking at Serendipity. "Have you finally learned how to tell a convincing lie?"

"You danced with Lord Knightwood," Serendipity said. "Brother saw you as well."

"A waltz," Fortuity said while scrubbing at an ink stain on her finger. "We all saw you."

"Before the lot of you scattered," Serendipity growled at them, turning a hard glare on the rest as she took her place beside their brother. "Cowards! Each and every one of you. You knew as soon as Essie took to the floor that others would seek dances with all of you, and you ran."

"Dowry hunters," Fortuity retorted.

"How would you know?" Serendipity asked. "You were too busy sinking into the shadows at the back of the room, writing notes, and stuffing them into your reticule."

"The lion's share of them had fortune hunting emblazoned on their foreheads," Gracie said as she leaned over to rub the belly of her favorite hound.

"And you took off to the stables to see the horses with Lady Martha!" Serendipity countered, then pointed at Joy, Felicity, and Merry. "Joy disappeared into an alcove to play cards with her friends, Felicity kept sneaking cakes and hiding behind the draperies, and Merry laughed in the face of every gentleman who spoke to her."

"They were older than Papa!" Merry said before folding her arms and winding up for a proper pout. "Two were certainly older than Grandpapa would have been had he still been alive."

"Ten and six and ten and seven," Blessing said to Serendipity, reminding her sibling of the grace period from marriage they had sworn to give Merry and Felicity as the two youngest sisters.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Chance demanded. He looked from Blessing to Serendipity and back again. "You know how I hate it when any of you speak in your sister code ."

"Will that be all, brother?" Blessing knew it irritated Chance to no end that he was stuck here in their parlor rather than out with the friends who only kept company with him because he spent money like pouring water from a bucket.

"That will not be all, Blessing." He glared at her with eyes such a dark blue that they sometimes hinted at a shade of the deepest purple—especially if he was angry. From their current shade of saturated amethyst, they had sorely tried his temper this afternoon. "When will you see Lord Knightwood again?" he asked.

"How should I know?" Had her brother lost what little sense she had ever given him credit for having? "I spoke with him for the length of a waltz, and then we parted ways." She grinned, then winked at Fortuity. "I hid in the library after that. Tutie, you would have loved it. So many books."

"Oh my," Fortuity groaned. "I was so busy taking down notes on character traits, I completely forgot about the library."

"Did you even suggest to the man that you would welcome callers? Be interested in his attention?" Chance dug his thumbs into his temples and rubbed in slow circles.

"Of course I didn't. I don't even know the man." Blessing shook her head. "Go lie down in a dark room. It will make your head feel better."

"What will make my head feel better is if someone would give me the slightest bit of hope that Lady Atterley's grand ball was not a complete waste of our time!"

"Do not shout at me, brother." She had once shoved him out of a tree when they were children. If necessary, she would find a way to do so again. She noticed Serendipity—the eternal peacemaker—looking far more troubled than the situation warranted. "Speak your mind, sister. You might as well. Your worries are on your face."

Serendipity gave Chance's shoulder a sympathetic pat. "Lord Knightwood might not be the best gentleman caller for our Essie."

"Finally." Blessing dramatically clasped her hands to her chest. "A voice of reason."

Chance scrubbed a hand across his face and slowly lowered himself into a chair. "Knightwood," he repeated with a pained squint as if it hurt to focus his thoughts. After a few moments, he slowly closed his eyes, shook his head, then turned to Serendipity. "Lord Thorne Knightwood? Was that the man's name? I saw him but did not recall him at the time."

Serendipity nodded. "Lord Thorne Knightwood. The very one."

"Care to share?" Blessing couldn't help it. Her curiosity was piqued.

"Lord Knightwood. Quite the wealthy baron. He does not marry women," Chance said. "He beds them."

"Chance!" Serendipity cuffed him on the shoulder.

He scowled at her, then pointed at Blessing. "Out of each of you, Essie is the one who could best deal with him." He pointed at her again and added a curt nod. "She can change him. Mama said Papa was once quite the rake—until he met her."

"I am done here." Blessing turned to go, then paused and looked back at her two elder siblings, who appeared entirely too thoughtful for her liking. "Do. Not."

"Do not what?" Serendipity asked with feigned innocence.

"There you are, Lady Blessing," said Walters, the Broadmere butler for the past eternity and a half. "This just came for you, my lady." He held out a silver salver bearing a single envelope.

"Anyone willing to give odds that it's from the rakish Lord Knightwood?" Joy called out with a teasing grin.

Blessing ignored her wagering sibling, picked up the envelope, and eyed the seal that consisted of three trees with a pair of swords across them, the blades crossed as if barring entry to the small forest. It appeared the baron had quite the straightforward emblem. A pair of swords to signify knight and a trio of trees for wood.

She returned the unopened envelope to the salver. "Tell the messenger my answer is no. "

Walters blinked as if not quite sure of what she'd just said. "Messenger, my lady?"

"I assume a messenger is waiting for my answer?"

The butler shook his head. "No, my lady. The missive was delivered by a young lad who scampered away as soon I accepted it."

Chance appeared at her side, snatched up the letter, and pushed it back into her hands. "Read it."

On Blessing's other side, Serendipity bobbed her head while excitedly squeezing her arm. "Yes, do. Read it."

"Oh, good heavens, you two are quite the unbelievable pair." Blessing broke the seal, slid her thumb under the flap, and unfolded the costly white paper she considered far too elaborate for something as simple as an invitation or request that would be refused. The note read:

My dearest Lady Blessing,

I wish to thank you for the pleasure of your company yesterday evening. I cannot remember when last I enjoyed a waltz so very much. In fact, I had intended to seek the pleasure of another joyous dance with you, but you must have already hurried home to gaze at your stars, since the night was so lovely and clear.

I look forward to the next time I may enjoy your delightful company.

Until then, I remain your ever-faithful and adoring servant—

Thorne Alexander Knightwood

"What a lovely note," Serendipity whispered.

"Well done, indeed," Chance said, nodding his approval.

"Sheer impertinence and flummery." Blessing refolded the paper and wished Walters had remained so she could toss it back on the salver. " My dearest Lady Blessing . Indeed." She strode over to the hearth to dispose of the silliness, but the rest of her sisters swarmed her and snatched it out of her hand.

"We want to read it too," Merry said as she darted across the room with it. As the most petite of the flock, she was also the quickest and most agile. Fortuity, Grace, Joy, and Felicity clamored for her to read the note aloud.

Serendipity caught Blessing by the arm, tugged her into the hallway, and pulled her into the much quieter library. "See what could have happened had you not hidden yourself away after the waltz?"

"What do you mean, what could have happened ? I do not know what you read, but all I read was that the man sought another dance. From what you and Chance said earlier, I am sure he found another partner who was much more accommodating than I."

"And I cannot believe you were going to toss that lovely missive into the fire," her sister said as if Blessing hadn't said a word. "Mama saved all of Papa's letters."

"Mama loved Papa." While yes, the letter had been rather nice in an over-flattering sort of way, Blessing felt sure that Lord Knightwood meant nothing by it. The man probably had them printed en masse like the tittle-tattle sheets, and all he had to do was add the unsuspecting lady's name at the top and sign his at the bottom. She suddenly itched to examine it closer to confirm her suspicions but then remembered his mention of her stars. That realization made her pucker her mouth with a thoughtful scowl.

"Mama said never to pucker, remember?" Serendipity chided with a knowing smile. "Admit it, Essie. The note was a rather nice touch. He even remembered your love of the stars."

"I admit nothing."

Serendipity laughed. "I am not the only sister incapable of telling a proper lie."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you would allow yourself to, you might actually enjoy getting to know Lord Knightwood."

"I do not—"

Serendipity stopped her with a lifted hand. "I did not say marry or love . I merely said you might enjoy getting to know the man. What if he is a fellow star lover?"

"If he is the rake you and Chance said he was, then stars are not what he loves." Blessing couldn't resist a wicked giggle. "Unless he's the one on his back in the meadow at night."

"Blessing Isolde Iris Abarough! Shame on you. What would Mama say?"

"Probably my full name, in exactly the same manner as you just did." Blessing hurried to soothe her sister with a repentant tip of her head and a humble curtsy. "Forgive me. You know I wouldn't say such a thing in front of the others. I only did it because you and Chance are making entirely too much of this."

"Do you truly never wish to marry?" Serendipity sounded so despondent that it touched Blessing's heart and forced her to share a bit of her true feelings.

"I would love to marry for love, but if you tell Chance or the others I admitted to that and truly meant it, I will swear you are lying." She caught Serendipity's hand and gave it a sisterly squeeze. "It's just that everything is happening too soon. Too quickly after…" She paused and swallowed hard to force the interminable knot of stormy emotions that never left her, back down where she constantly fought to keep them. "Papa and Mama have not been gone that long, and I never imagined going through any of this without either of them here to support us or give advice."

"I know, Essie." Serendipity gathered her into a hug. "I wish they were here too."

A light knock on the door was followed by Walters quietly saying, "Lady Blessing?"

"Come in, Walters. It's safe." Blessing bowed her head, rubbed her brow, and wondered how Chance had managed to curse her with his headache.

The ancient butler toddled into the library balancing a silver tray in one hand, and once again it held a single sealed note. "Another missive just arrived, my lady, and begging your pardon, but it bears the same seal as the one from earlier."

"Not an hour has passed since the arrival of the first." Her curiosity piqued, Blessing snatched up the letter and hurried to open it.

My dearest Lady Blessing,

Since I felt quite certain you would consider my first correspondence flummery and toss it into the hearth fire, I simply had to send a second to stress that I meant each and every word I wrote in the first.

You are a delight, my lady. I look forward to the time when you find our acquaintance so joyful that you grant me the ultimate pleasure of addressing you as "Essie."

As ever, your faithful and adoring servant—

Thorne

Blessing tried not to smile but failed so miserably that she pressed her fingers across her lips as though insulted by Lord Knightwood's even more daring impertinence.

Serendipity arched a brow at her. "His lordship appears to be quite observant."

Refolding the letter and keeping it safely tucked against her while she crossed her arms over her chest, Blessing assumed an air of indifference. "His letters are rakish flirtations intended to get him closer to my virtues— which I can assure you are quite safe from whatever he has in mind. He does not marry , remember?"

"Perhaps not yet, but he described your reaction as though he had watched you through the window," Serendipity argued. "If Merry hadn't snatched the first letter out of your hand, it would have already been ashes ready to be swept into the bin." With a hearty laugh, she shook a finger, making Blessing seriously consider pinching her. "He even used the word flummery ! You called it the same. He already knows and understands you, dear sister, whether you wish it or not."

"If you speak of this to Chance, I will fill your bedclothes with frogs—the biggest I can find."

"Essie." Serendipity made a face and clicked her tongue as if scolding a child. "We are both too old for that childhood game, and you know it."

"I am still quite able to catch a bucketful of frogs, I assure you." Blessing tucked Knightwood's note down the front of her dress, securing it behind her corset. "Try me and see."

"Fine. I shan't speak of it to Chance." Serendipity held up a finger. "Unless Lord Knightwood takes further steps to court you." She offered a sympathetic shrug. "With Papa gone, Chance must give his permission should you fall in love with anyone and seek to marry."

"I am one and twenty, and do not need my brother's permission." Even though she knew it to be immature and petulant, Blessing stamped her foot. "He is not and never will be Papa."

"But he is the head of the household now," Serendipity quietly reminded her, her earlier levity gone. "As the Duke of Broadmere and according to the will, his signature is required to advise Mr. Sutherland to pay out your dowry. One can only assume that Papa and Mama stipulated that to ease some of the sting of placing him on a rather tight allowance until he learns how to better handle his responsibilities."

Blessing shooed away her sister's words. "Putting the cart before the horse, are you not, dear sister? I am not concerned about my dowry. I simply do not want Chance encouraged in Lord Knightwood's regard, and have him champing at the bit for the reading of the banns. Once the baron discovers how stubborn I can be about keeping my skirts down where they belong, I am sure he will move on to easier prey and forget all about me."

"We shall see, dear sister." Serendipity opened the library door and looked back as she stepped out into the hallway. "We shall see."

As the library door closed behind her sister, Blessing blew out a disgruntled huff and retreated to the tall front window overlooking St. James's Street. It was best to remain here in the library until the furor that Lord Knightwood's notes had caused calmed down. As she had told Serendipity, life was moving on entirely too fast. Good heavens, they had just come out of mourning in time for Easter, and if it were left up to Chance, they would all be married by May Day.

A lone figure across the street, strolling back and forth at a leisurely yet purposeful pace, caught her attention. When he turned the second time to repeat his circuit, he looked her way, tipped his hat, then drew what appeared to be three more notes from an inner coat pocket and fanned them out like a hand of cards. His smile shone with an entirely improper boldness, sending a shiver through her—not entirely unpleasant, but it made her catch her breath and filled her with renewed determination to remain steadfast and true to herself. Lord Thorne Knightwood's title should be King of Impertinence. How dare he traipse up and down the street in front of her home?

Rather than retreat from the window and look like a coward, she pointed at him and arched a stern brow, a silent order for him to behave himself and trot off in search of some other young woman to prey upon. She felt sure he would understand her meaning with no trouble. After all, had he not eerily known what her reaction would be to his first missive?

His beguiling smile stretched even wider, revealing a pair of dimples she had failed to notice last night. He doffed his hat and gave an elaborate bow that made her remember the ending to both his letters: your faithful and adoring servant.

Indeed! She spun away from the window in a huff, then halted midway across the library and looked down. Her hands were clasped to her chest, pressing the second note tightly to her heart. "I am being utterly ridiculous," she announced to the room at large. Only the mantel clock answered with its ever-faithful tick-tock echoing through the quiet.

"Lady Blessing?" Walters quietly called from the partially opened door.

"Do not dare bring another note to me, Walters."

"But my lady—"

"Walters."

The butler cleared his throat and respectfully tipped his head. "Yes, my lady. I shall deliver any correspondence addressed to you to your observatory and then lock the door upon my leaving. Will that do, my lady?"

Blessing pulled in a deep breath and huffed it out. It was not the butler's fault that she had drawn the attention of the annoying Lord Knightwood. "Yes, Walters. That will do."