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“The Duke of Clapton still wants to marry me,” Emily burst out.

Octavia nodded, not seeming surprised in the least. “Yes, I thought he might after your dance last night,” she conceded. “And what are your thoughts?”

“Thoughts? I cannot understand why he still wants to marry me, Mama! What should I do?”

Octavia sighed faintly. “Do? Why, I cannot tell you that. You are a clever girl, Emily. You will work it out.”

Emily eyed her mother, a little baffled. There’d been no more talk of blackmail or her paintings, althoughWoman In The Windowwas taking London by storm, and there was something of a rush to collect the rest of Anon’s paintings. Soon, her agent would begin pressuring her to produce more paintings.

The agent, an eager young man with fewer brains than a flea, did not know her identity. Emily was not willing to be exposed against her will, by accident or otherwise.

There’d been banknotes and cheques, too, more than Emily could have imagined. She’d made money from her paintings before, but never as much as she had fromWoman In The Window.

I have many ideas for paintings, all just as shocking and thought-provoking. I always imagined that they were too risqué for Society. Was I wrong? Ought I try boldness?

She shivered at the thought, her fingers tightening around her knife and fork.

For the first time, Emily considered that her paintings might be good enough to earn her a living.

Before anything else could be said, a resounding knock sounded at the door, followed by a loud, familiar voice echoing through the hallways.

“They’re in here, aren’t they? No need to escort me, I’ll just go straight in. Don’t worry, I remember where we had breakfast.”

Octavia laid down her knife and fork, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “That,” she said unnecessarily, “sounds like your sister.”

On cue, Daphne burst into the breakfast room, beaming.

“There you are! I’ll pull up a chair while you both finish your breakfast. I thought we might all go out today,” she announced, flopping down in her usual seat by Emily’s side. She was wearing a voluminous green gown, the ruffles of the skirt poofing up around her.

“I’m afraid I’m paying calls this morning, dear.” Octavia laughed. “But perhaps Emily might spend the day with you.”

“Oh, yes, that would be nice. I thought we could go promenading in Hyde Park.”

Emily blinked, taken aback. She stared pointedly out of the window, where grey rain sleeted down the glass. The landscape was painted in shades of drab green and grey, the sky above them bone white.

It was, in short, not a pleasant day for promenading.

“You’re joking, aren’t you?”

Daphne sniffed. “No, I am not. I need exercise, Sister, and ladies can’t go promenading alone. Duchesses certainly can’t, I’ve been told.”

“You’re mad,” Emily responded. “Why can’t we just stay inside?”

Daphne sighed, shifting. “I have the fidgets today. I must have fresh air, I can’t bear to be cooped up inside. Edward is off attending to business, and Alex is with him, so I have nobody to keep me company, and I am quite bored. Say you’ll promenade with me, Emmie!”

“No, not in weather like this! Mama, tell her she’s being foolish.”

“I am sorry, Emily. Your sister is married now, and I no longer have authority over her,” Octavia responded, returning to her kippers. “What’s more, I am not sure I everhadauthority over her when she lived at home. Daff always did exactly as she wanted, and I quite gave up trying to control her.”

Daphne opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, a confused expression on her face. The confusion was rapidly replaced by a growing dread.

Emily frowned, squinting at her sister’s uneasy expression. “Daphne? What is it? You look unwell. You’ve gone pale. What’s wrong?”

Daphne swallowed thickly and bounced to her feet. She hurried across the room, to where a pair of ornamental vases stood at either side of the picture window. Grabbing the closest one, she proceeded to vomit noisily inside it.

Emily winced.

Octavia sighed. “Oh,Daphne.”