“Perhaps. However, I have heard that men are sometimes oblivious to such matters…”

As they left the breakfast room, they saw Lady Olivia walking along the hallway, her pretty face wreathed with a perturbed expression. It was odd to see her frowning, as she was usually a singularly cheerful woman. Lillian wondered what had happened to upset her.

Glancing up, Lady Olivia saw the pair of sisters, and her face cleared. A warm smile came to her lips. “Good morning.”

Although Lady Olivia was only two or three years older than Lillian, she seemed infinitely more worldy-wise, possessing the eyes of a woman who had known great sadness in her past. It was that sense of unknown experiences, so far beyond Lillian’s own, that had always made her feel a bit awkward around Lady Olivia. Though the earl’s sister was a charming conversationalist, one had the perception that there were questions that should not be asked, and subjects that were sensitive.

“I was going to the orangery,” Lady Olivia said.

“We shan’t stop you, then,” Lillian replied, fascinated by the faintest trace of resemblance to Westcliff in the woman’s face…nothing distinctive, but a certain look about the eyes, and the smile…

“Do come with me,” Lady Olivia urged. Seeming to obey a sudden impulse, she reached out for Lillian’s hand, her small fingers wrapping around Lillian’s much longer ones. “I’ve just had the most interesting conversation with the earl. I would love to discuss it with you.”

Oh good God. He had told his sister, then. And very possibly his mother. Lillian shot a glance of veiled panic at her sister, who proved to be no help whatsoever.

“I’m heading to the library for a novel,” Daisy announced brightly. “The one I’m reading now is something of a disappointment, and I don’t care to finish it.”

“Go to the last row on the right, two shelves from the floor,” Lady Olivia advised. “And look behind the books in front. I’ve hidden my favorite novels there—wicked stories that no innocent girl should read. They’ll corrupt you immeasurably.”

Daisy’s dark eyes lit up at the information. “Oh, thank you!” She scampered away without a backward glance, while Lady Olivia grinned.

“Come,” she said, tugging Lillian through the breakfast room. “If we’re to be sisters, there are some things you will want to know. I’m an invaluable source of information, and I’m feeling quite gabby at the moment.”

Amused, Lillian went with her to the orangery, which branched off from the breakfast room. It was warm and fragrant, with the noonday sun approaching and heat coming from the grillwork vents in the floor.

“It’s not entirely certain that we will be sisters,” Lillian remarked, sitting beside her on a cane bench with a curved French back. “If the earl implied that something has been agreed upon—”

“No, he didn’t go that far. However, he did express some rather serious intentions toward you.” Lady Olivia’s hazel-green eyes were bright with smiling inquiry, and yet there was a watchful quality in them. “No doubt I should be restrained and tactful, but I simply can’t bear it, I have to ask…Are you going to accept him?”

Lillian, who was never at a loss for words, found herself stammering as badly as Evie. “I…I…”

“Forgive me,” Lady Olivia said, taking pity on her. “As those who know me best will attest, I love to go charging into other peoples’ affairs. I hope I haven’t offended you.”

“No.”

“Good. I never seem to get on well with people who are easily offended.”

“Neither do I,” Lillian confessed, her shoulders relaxing, and they both smiled. “My lady, the situation being what it is—although you may not know the details, unless the earl—”

“No,” Lady Olivia reassured her gently. “As always, my brother was closemouthed about the details. He is an annoyingly private man who adores tormenting inquisitive people like myself. Go on.”

“The truth is that I want to accept him,” Lillian said frankly. “But I do have a few reservations.”

“Of course you do,” Lady Olivia said promptly. “Marcus is an overwhelming man. He does everything well, and he makes certain that everyone is aware of it. One can’t approach the simplest of endeavors, such as brushing your teeth, without having him advise whether you should begin with the molars or incisors.”

“Yes.”

“A dreadfully trying man,” Lady Olivia continued, “who insists on seeing things in absolutes—right or wrong, good or bad. He is opinionated and overbearing, not to mention incapable of admitting that he is ever wrong.”

It was clear that Lady Olivia would have gone on at length about Marcus’s flaws, but Lillian experienced a sudden rush of defensiveness. After all, it wasn’t quite fair to paint such a harsh portrait of him. “All that may be true,” she said, “but one has to give Lord Westcliff credit for being honest. He always keeps his word. And even when he is overbearing, he is only trying to do what he thinks is best for other people.”

“I suppose…” Lady Olivia said dubiously, and that encouraged Lillian to expound on the subject.

“Moreover, a woman who married Lord Westcliff would never have to fear him straying. He would be faithful to her. He would make her feel safe, because he would always take care of her and never lose his head in an emergency.”