“—the most eligible bachelor in Europe,” Lillian finished dryly, raising her brows with mock significance. “Maybe the entire world. Mother, if you’re actually hoping that Westcliff is going to marry either of us, you’re a lunatic.”

“She’s not a lunatic,” Daisy told her sister. “She’s a New Yorker.”

There were an increasing number of the Bowmans’ kind back in New York—upstarts who could not manage to blend with either the conservative Knickerbockers, or the highly fashionable crowd. These parvenu families had garnered massive fortunes from industries such as manufacturing or mining, and yet they could not gain acceptance in the circles that they aspired to so desperately. The loneliness and embarrassment of being so thoroughly rejected by New York society had fueled Mercedes’s ambitions as nothing else could have.

“We’re going to make Lord Westcliff forget all about your atrocious behavior during our last visit,” Mercedes informed them grimly. “You will be modest, quiet, and demure at all times—and there will be no more of this wallflower business. I want you to stay away from that scandalous Annabelle Peyton, and that other one, that—”

“Evie Jenner,” Daisy said. “And it’s Annabelle Hunt now, Mother.”

“Annabelle did marry Westcliff’s best friend,” Lillian pointed out idly. “I should think that would be an excellent reason for us to continue seeing her, Mother.”

“I’ll consider it.” Mercedes regarded them both suspiciously. “In the meantime, I intend for you to take a long, quiet nap. I don’t want to hear a sound from either of you, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother,” they both chorused.

The door closed, and the outside key turned firmly in the lock.

The sisters regarded each other with a shared grin. “It’s a good thing that she never found out about the rounders game,” Lillian said.

“We would be dead now,” Daisy agreed gravely.

Lillian fished a hairpin from a small enameled box on the vanity table and went to the door. “A pity that she gets so upset about little things, isn’t it?”

“Like the time we sneaked the greased piglet into Mrs. Astor’s parlor.”

Smiling reminiscently, Lillian knelt before the door and worked the pin into the lock. “You know, I’ve always wondered why Mother didn’t appreciate that we did it in her defense. Something had to be done after Mrs. Astor wouldn’t invite Mother to her party.”

“I think Mother’s point was that putting livestock in someone’s house does little to recommend us as future party guests.”

“Well, I didn’t think that was nearly as bad as the time we set off the Roman candle in the store on Fifth Avenue.”

“We were obligated to do that, after that salesman had been so rude.”

Withdrawing the pin, Lillian expertly crimped one end with her fingers and reinserted it. Squinting with effort, she maneuvered the pin until the lock clicked, and then she glanced at Daisy with a triumphant smile. “That was my fastest time yet, I think.”

However, her younger sister did not return the smile. “Lillian…if you do find a husband this year…everything’s going to change. You’ll change. And then there will be no more adventures, or fun, and I’ll be alone.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lillian said with a frown. “I’m not going to change, and you won’t be alone.”

“You’ll have a husband to answer to,” Daisy pointed out. “And he won’t allow you to be involved in any mischief making with me.”

“No, no, no…” Lillian stood and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m not going to have that kind of husband. I’m going to marry a man who either won’t notice or won’t care about what I do when I’m away from him. A man like Father.”

“A man like Father doesn’t seem to have made Mother very happy,” Daisy said. “I wonder if they were ever in love?”

Leaning back against the door, Lillian frowned as she contemplated the question. It had never occurred to her before now to wonder if her parents’ marriage had been a love match. Somehow she didn’t think so. They both seemed entirely self-contained. Their partnership was at best a negligible bond. To Lillian’s knowledge, they seldom argued, never embraced, and rarely even spoke. And yet there was no apparent bitterness between them. Rather they were indifferent to each other, with neither evincing any desire or even aptitude for happiness.

“Love is for the novels, dear,” Lillian said, trying her best to sound cynical. Easing the door open, she peeked up and down the hallway, and glanced back at Daisy. “All clear. Shall we slip out the servants’ entrance?”

“Yes, and then let’s go to the west side of the manor, and head into the forest.”

“Why the forest?”

“Do you remember the favor that Annabelle asked of me?”

Lillian stared at her for a moment of incomprehension, and then she rolled her eyes. “Good God, Daisy, can’t you think of something better to do than carry out a ridiculous errand like that?”

Her younger sister gave her an astute glance. “You just don’t want to because it’s for Lord Westcliff’s benefit.”

“It’s not going to benefit anyone,” Lillian replied with exasperation. “It’s a fool’s errand.”