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En route to Broadmere Manor

England’s Lake District

L ady Grace Abarough, fourth sister in birth order to Chance, the sorely frustrated Duke of Broadmere, hung out of the carriage window and breathed in the sweet air of the countryside.

The clean, earthy scent of crops flourishing and wildflowers blooming made her spirits sing.

They had finally left London to enjoy the wonders of summer that Broadmere Manor and the Lake District always supplied.

She waved to the next Broadmere carriage in line behind them.

Jasper, the driver, grinned and tipped his hat.

It was a glorious day, sunshine bathing the world.

The four carriages and assortment of wagons it took to move the family, the household’s servants, Grace’s beloved hounds, and the enormous conglomeration of trunks and supplies clipped along at a jaunty pace.

She couldn’t wait to arrive and behave most inappropriately by shedding her stockings and wiggling her toes in the cool, lush grassiness of the manor’s gardens.

“Gracie!” Serendipity, the eldest Abarough sister, pinched the underside of her arm, just hard enough to make it sting. “For the hundredth time, would you please sit and behave like a proper young woman of one and twenty instead of a wild hoyden just escaped from the nursery?”

Not about to be subdued, Grace sat back and nudged her sister. “Pinch me again, and I’ll make sure Gastric sleeps under your bed after eating everything known to make him break wind.”

“That is not fair.” Joy, the next sister in line after Grace, shuffled the small deck of cards she always brought along on lengthy journeys to keep herself entertained.

“My bed is on the same side of the room as Seri’s.

If that hound of yours unleashes his artillery under her bed, his poisonous fog could suffocate me as well. ”

Felicity, the next-to-youngest Abarough sister, opened the hamper at their feet and withdrew a carefully wrapped cloth bundle.

“Poor Gastric can’t help himself. He should not be used as a weapon, nor should he be made fun of.

Biscuit, anyone? Cook and I worked out a new recipe, making them lighter and even more scrumptious, if I do say so myself. ”

“We are nearly there, Felicity. We can enjoy them with tea. Later.” Serendipity gently took the bundle of biscuits, returned them to the hamper, and firmly latched it.

“And please remember what the modiste said—she can’t let out your gowns further.

New ones will have to be made, and we aren’t due back in London until late summer, early fall.

” She gave Felicity an affectionate pat.

“Self-control will win the day. I know you can do it.”

Felicity went quiet and bowed her head, obviously hurt by the stinging reminder about her love of food and the results of her indulgences.

“Leave her alone.” Grace elbowed Serendipity again. “I know of at least two modistes in the village. If she needs new gowns, we’ll simply get them there.”

Merry, the baby of the family, leaned across and patted Felicity’s knee. “Eat your biscuits, Fellie.” She fixed a narrow-eyed glare on Serendipity. “Mama would never be so cruel, and you know it, Seri. You should be ashamed of yourself, dousing the generous spirit of our sweet Fellie.”

Grace gave her baby sister an approving nod before turning back to her eldest one.

“You really need to stop spending so much time with Chance. His relentless nattering to hurry and get us all married off so he can finally get the full of his inheritance is making you mean-spirited. Or has he promised you extra coin for your dowry if you help him in his quest? You do realize he’ll turn on you?

After all, no matter how bossy you are, you’re still one of us and have to marry for him to prove to Mr. Sutherland that the requirements of Mama and Papa’s will have been fully satisfied. ”

“ You are the mean-spirited ones.” Serendipity glowered at each of them in turn. “You are like a pack of wolves. Always turning against me when my suggestions are only meant to help you.”

“I think we have all been trapped in this carriage too long.” Felicity once again retrieved the biscuits from the basket and opened the square of linen protecting them. She passed them out, even giving one to Serendipity. “We are not usually at each other’s throats so viciously.”

“She makes a valid point,” Grace admitted. Uplifted and filled with generosity because of escaping the confines of Town, she reached over and squeezed Serendipity’s hand. “Truce. I know you promised Mama to take care of us all until we married. Just try not to be so…”

Serendipity arched a golden brow. “So… what , dear Gracie?” she asked in a snappish tone. “It appears your peacemaking skills need polish.”

Grace gave a disgruntled snort. It would seem she needed to put her older sibling in place.

Fine. There would be no truce. She made a mental note to ask Cook for a plate of eggs and beans for Gastric.

That would arm her precious dog’s belly with enough flatulence to last all night.

“Try not to be such an odious harpy, Seri. You should always side with us about this Marriage Mart business. Not Chance.”

“I was not discussing the Marriage Mart,” Serendipity said. “I was merely addressing proper behavior and appearances.”

“Marriage Mart,” the rest of the sisters said in unison.

Serendipity eyed them as if seeing each of them for the very first time. “Have I truly been so horrid to you all?”

“Most definitely,” Grace hurried to say. “Especially after the success of getting Blessing and Fortuity happily married off. It’s almost as if you smell blood and can’t stop yourself.”

“You have been rather sharp,” Felicity told Serendipity in a quiet, apologetic way.

“Definitely a harpy,” Joy said, sounding distracted as she laid out her cards on the small lap table she had commissioned from London’s finest woodworker.

“Merry?” Serendipity asked. “Have you no disparaging words with which to fling at me?”

“Yes.” Merry pointed at the beaded tassels of her reticule. “When you borrow my things, will you please take better care of them? There is an entire strand of jet missing from this corner. I shall have to have it repaired before carrying it in the future.”

Serendipity closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, just as Mama had always done whenever they had collectively worn her patience to its thinnest.

Grace almost felt sorry for her sister. Serendipity had assumed Mama’s role as matriarch of the family after their sweet mother had died after a long, torturous battle with consumption.

Then a short six months later Papa had died from what they all decided was a broken heart, leaving Chance, the firstborn and only male of the Abarough brood, as the fifth Duke of Broadmere.

And that was when the madness of marrying off the sisters in true love matches had begun.

Because until all of them were happily married to husbands they loved, their brother had to survive on an allowance—an entirely too modest allowance, according to him.

Grace could just see her beloved parents up in heaven, laughing until they were breathless at the game they had set in motion.

But Grace was also well aware that Serendipity was not above feigning a bit of drama and hurt feelings to turn circumstances in the direction she wished them to go.

However, since Grace was still in a generous mood, she would attempt to make amends.

“We sisters have spoken, Seri. All you need do is have Merry’s jet bag repaired and refrain from any Marriage Mart machinations until after summer’s end.

Then, once again, you will find yourself in our good graces. ”

Serendipity lifted her head and turned to fully face her.

Grace recognized that familiar wariness lurking in her sibling’s sapphire eyes. “What have you done?”

“You do realize Chance intends to fill this summer with garden parties, outdoor dinners, and formal picnics?” Serendipity’s judgmental eyebrow that always gave her away slanted higher than the other.

“Just because we do not find ourselves in the heart of London’s Polite Society, does not mean the search for suitable husbands can’t continue. ”

“Oh, Seri.” With a long-suffering groan, Grace slouched against the side of the carriage and propped her elbow on the ledge of the open window.

“Posture,” Serendipity said in the same singsong way Mama had always done.

“Just stop, Seri. I am in no mood. You have successfully placed a dark blight upon my day. You should have been born a storm cloud. Happy?” Her elbow still propped in the window, Grace rested her chin in her hand and tried to console herself with the view of the lush green countryside.

Blessing and Fortuity had both warned she would be the next little Abarough goose that Chance would hang in the window to attract suitors.

Not that he wouldn’t just as happily marry off one of the others first, but for the moment, the blissful unions appeared to be happening in birth order.

Except for Serendipity, who had sworn to remain unwed and look after everyone else until their fates were settled at the altar.

Not even Chance would cross Serendipity.

She had pushed him out of too many trees when they were children.

That memory made Grace smile. All of them truly had been blessed with the most wonderfully indulgent childhoods. She sent a silent thank you to her parents, positive they still watched over their lively brood.

As the carriage rattled through the land adjoining theirs, she noticed activity at the landowner’s manor house that had remained vacant last summer. “Wolfebourne Lodge is being opened. What do you know of it, Seri?”