Page 67 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

“I can’t accept?—”

“Certainly, you can,” Miss Webb interrupted Helena. “Since our engagement, Merritt pays all my expenses, and once we’re married, you’ll have one less companion.”

Holding out her hand for the letter, Miss Sinclair approached Miss Webb.

“Miss Rowe invited me to live here, and after your wedding, I believe I shall agree to her generous offer. Delivering this missive is only the first step in my repayment for her kindness.”

Miss Webb released the letter. “When you arrive at the printing shop, tell the printer we will offer him double for the name of the slanderous person… if she returns.”

“Are you sure it’s a woman?” Miss Sinclair asked, tucking the missive into her reticule.

“I would wager my wedding date on it.”

“And,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, joining her sister, “when we find this woman, we’ll expose her secrets to the whole of the ton.”

Shuddering, Miss Sinclair took a subtle step backward. “I’m grateful to have never crossed you, Miss Fernsby-Webb.”

“Perhaps,” Miss Webb said, adding a reassuring smile, “you could join us tomorrow afternoon for tea.”

“Oh, I do hope so.” Miss Sinclair returned the grin, then curtsied to all three ladies. “Until tomorrow.”

Helena escorted her to the front door and gave her a quick embrace. “Don’t allow anyone to see you leave. I wouldn’t want your mother to hear about this visit.”

Biting her lower lip, Miss Sinclair nodded. She opened the door, peeking around the edge, and yelped, jumping backward and pulling the door with her. Waiting on the doorstep, his hand raised to knock, stood an elderly man whose wrinkled face broke into a giant smile when he spied Helena.

He bowed sharply, then held out a missive. “His Grace invites you and your companions for an afternoon of sleigh riding.”

“Please excuse me.” Miss Sinclair ducked her head, pulling the hood of her pelisse over her face, and darted around the man.

“Mr. Kendall?” Miss Webb asked, appearing behind Helena. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Miss Webb,” he replied, favoring her with a grander smile. “His Graces and your fiancé are filled with ennui and looking to amuse themselves.”

“What did they decide upon?” She took the missive from Helena and ripped the seal, giggling as her eyes scanned the scribbled note.

Leaning back into the foyer, Miss Webb yelled, “Winifred, would you like to go for a sleigh ride?”

“At this moment?” Miss Fernsby-Webb asked, huffing as she materialized beside her sister.

“Their Graces will collect you in one hour.” Mr. Kendall bowed again, turned, and strode toward the street.

“All five?” Helena’s eyes bulged.

“Apparently,” Miss Webb said, winking at her sister, “none of them care about the lies printed by that newspaper.”

“Or they didn’t read it,” Helena muttered, earning a reproachful glare from Miss Webb.

“Name one person in this town who doesn’t delight in gossip.” Miss Webb arched her eyebrows, daring Helena to counter her argument.

Helena shrugged. “I cannot.”

“This is quite fortuitous,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said as they climbed the stairs. “No one questions the opinion of a duke. This invitation will lend weight to the claim you’ve been wronged by a vindictive?—”

“We will meet,” Miss Webb spoke loudly, drowning out the profane description used by her sister, “downstairs in thirty minutes.”

Time flew much faster than Helena anticipated. A knock resounded on the front door, causing all three ladies to simultaneously pop their heads out of their chambers.

“He’s early.” Miss Webb giggled, her face flushing light pink.