Page 2 of His Revelation
Tiffany smothered a giggle, knowing Mother wouldn’t approve. But when she and Bonnie were both standing upright on the perfectly maintained stones of Dumpkins’s front walk, she shared a secret smile with her sister.
“Come along, girls,” Mother called as she swept toward the front steps. “It is not every day we receive an invitation to tea witha lord.”
Knowing what was expected of her, Tiffany planted a soft smile on her face—one she knew made her look approachable and demure, because she’d spent hours practicing it in front of a mirror—and followed.
“Why are you so nervous?” whispered her sister, as she tucked her notebook into a hidden pocket and stepped up beside her. “Do not deny it. I know you better than Mother does, remember?”
“I am not—” Realizing shewasabout to deny it, Tiffany’s smile slipped for a moment. “I just do not want to do anything to ruin my chances with Lysander.” The reminder of the masquerade ball last week, and how the two of them had not only danced beautifully together, but had also snuck away for some quiet conversation, made her sigh happily. “He isperfect,Bonnie,” she whispered as the butler opened the door ahead, “and I think I might love him.”
“You love theideaof him,” her sister corrected.
As if that was any different.
Tiffany sighed again. “I believe I do.” She could love Lysanderandthe idea of Lysander. “I want him to love me too.”
Apparently, their mother was listening, because as the butler led them through the echoing foyer of Dumpkins Estate, where the girls had been lucky enough to visit a few times already this summer for the Dumpkins house party, she turned just long enough to hiss over her shoulder, “Ofcoursehe will love you. You are beautiful! He came to tea, did he not?”
Luckily, she turned back away, the fake smile plastered on her face, and Tiffany didn’t have to answer. Instead, she exchanged glances with Bonnie and knew her sister was thinking the same thing.
Lysanderhadcome for tea, only a few days ago, and had brought Max DeVille—who now had anunderstandingwith their stepsister Ember—as well. But despite Mother’s attempts to pretend everything was wonderful, Lysander had been distinctly cold throughout the social niceties, and had left not long after Mr. DeVille had excused himself.
And Tiffany was terrified she knew the reason why.
“Ladies.” A man and a woman stood when the butler led them into the parlor, but only the lady was smiling. But it was Lysander Oliphant who had spoken so formally. “Thank ye for joining us.”
“Of course, Viscount Blah-blah-blah!” Mother tittered as she dipped into a deep curtsey. “We are honored.”
“Blabloblal,” corrected Lysander under his breath, his expression carefully blank.
It wasn’t until Bonnie followed their mother that Tiffany remembered her manners and forced herself to stop looking at Lysander long enough to curtsey as well.
He’d stepped up to Mother’s side and was leading her toward the little arrangement of chairs facing a cold hearth. “Lady Machara, Baroness Oliphant, may I present my sister, Lady Athena Oliphant?”
Mother’s expression froze, the muscles around her lips tight as she tried to think of a polite way to sayI have no interestin meeting a social outcast. Finally, she inclined her head just slightly. “Lady Athena. Will you be joining us?”
Athena, whom Tiffany had met several times here at the Dumpkins house party, was clearly amused at the attempted snub, and bobbed her head in exaggerated excitement. “Och, aye. I can no’ miss the chance to visit with such gracious and kind neighbors.”
It was true that Athena and Tiffany and Bonnie were of similar age, and members of the same clan. But when they were younger, Athena’s standing as the daughter of the laird put her above Machara’s daughters…and then later, there was The Incident.
But this summer, they’d been invited to the Countess Dumpkins’s house party. Although they were local, and thus didn’t stay at Dumpkins Estate with the rest of the party-goers, they had met occasionally. Athena, understandably, had done her best to remove herself from Society in recent years, and thus it wasn’t a surprise that she only attended events here and there.
Still, the times they’d been able to chat, Tiffany discovered shelikedthe bold, outspoken woman, whose sense of humor could be quite wicked.
Now, for instance, it was clear thatsheknew Mother would rather have any of Lysander’s other siblings joining them, rather than this disgraced sister, and the redhead was beaming at the older woman’s discomfort. Why had Lysander invited Athena?
Mother rallied and glanced around. “I was rather hoping your brothers might join us. The Earl’s heir or…the other one.”
Lysander made a show of following her gaze—the curtains, the stairs—as if his brothers might be hiding. “Alas, neither of my brothers were available.”
“Phineas is preparing for his wedding with Miss L’arbre, Mother,” Bonnie murmured, sending Athena a little smile.
“Aye, ye are stuck with me,” Athena declared cheerfully.
Through the awkwardness, Tiffany had found herself gripping her skirts. Not because of her mother’s rudeness—she was used to that—but out of nerves. Lysander hadn’t bowed over her hand, and she was terrified she knew why.
When he finally turned to her, she was quick to arrange her expression into the smile she knew made her look beautiful, yet approachable. He studied her for a moment longer than was necessary, making her feel as if he weren’t quite impressed with her efforts.
Finally, he inclined his head, and Tiffany felt herself begin to breathe again.
