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“I was charmed to have the opportunity to dance with you at the assembly last week, Miss Reeve.” Lord Hanbury adjusted his cravat.

She darted a glance at Lady Margaret. It wouldn’t do to mention in front of their sponsor that Arabella had cut the dance short, almost before it had even begun. “It was a pleasure, my lord. Have you had the opportunity to dance with either of my sisters? Susan is so accomplished at the quadrille.”

Susan, in fact, was a disaster on the dance floor, but was so cheerful about it that gentlemen seemed to overlook her missteps.

“I am sure she must be, with such a fine example of a sister to look up to.”

She wanted to roll her eyes, but Lady Margaret was making encouraging gestures and nodding at her, so she managed to smile.

“Miss Reeve is a lovely dancer,” Lady Margaret said, reaching over and patting Caroline’s hand. “She is a fine example of any sort of accomplishment you could imagine.”

That was an even worse fib than the one Caroline had told about Susan. She could see why Mr. Taylor hadn’t considered his aunt to be the best choice as a sponsor, given that her lies were so thin.

Mr. Taylor smiled. “There is no finer accomplishment than good sense, and Miss Reeve certainly has it in spades.”

Caroline considered having a maid fetch the headache powder for her throbbing temples, but instead a footman arrived and said the very thing that was guaranteed to help her to feel better. “Miss Seton is here, ma’am.”

Arabella wandered into the room. She hesitated when she saw the crowd already gathered in the parlor, but she held her chin high and approached Caroline. “I brought flowers,” she said, thrusting a bunch of daisies at her.

Caroline’s heart clutched. She knew where they grew. How many afternoons had she sprawled on the hill with Arabella when they were ten, plucking petals to tell their fortunes, and making flower chains so they could crown each other?

One of Jacob’s friends sneered. “One hates to contradict a lady, but those may be better classified as weeds, are they not?”

“I picked them on the way here,” she said, her voice calm.

“They’re charming,” Caroline said firmly. “In fact, daisies are my favorite flower.”

“They have a sort of rustic appeal,” the man said. “But nothing like the hothouse roses I procured for you.”

The roses were showy. Betsy had already plucked one and wore it in her hair.

“There is nothing more breathtaking than a cultivated rose from the greenhouse,” Lady Margaret announced, shooting a hard look at Caroline.

“I am more of a wildflower type,” Caroline said.

“We spinsters are known to have unusual tastes,” Arabella said.

Lord Hanbury spluttered. “Miss Reeve is hardly a spinster—barely past the first blush of youth—why, I never—”

“It’s true, in fact,” Caroline said. “I have long considered myself a spinster. Perhaps that is why I prefer a hardy wildflower to a delicate bloom.” She grinned at Arabella.

A maid brought a vase to the parlor, and Arabella arranged the bouquet of daisies with as much as care as if they were the rarest flower in England instead of the most common.

Caroline felt better than she had all day. She had missed Arabella’s frequent presence in her home, popping over with comfits and books, sitting down with the boys and listening to them talk about the different slugs they had found in the garden that morning. She missed telling Arabella everything and hearing her calm advice and soothing words. She wished nothing more than to pull her into the other parlor and tell her all about Jacob’s foolishness with the curricle, but then again, she couldn’t bear for Arabella to realize how out-of-control her siblings had become. It didn’t reflect well on her.

“I have something else for you,” Arabella said, and held up her reticule. “I went to the lending library today.”

“You brought me a book?”

“It is Wednesday, is it not? Of course I have a new book for you.”

Caroline drew it out of Arabella’s reticule and flipped it open. It was a romance, which wasn’t an unusual choice, but the way Arabella looked…She was the picture of innocence, her eyes wide behind her spectacles. That face was incapable of hiding a lie, and she could tell there was a plan churning around in that charming mind of hers.

“Meet me at the bluffs,” Arabella said. “Tomorrow at noon.”

How could she say no?

* * *