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“Ungallant of my brother to repeat that conversation.” Athena touched her hand to her hair. “I’m well aware of my shortcomings. And he hardly needed to remind you.”
    “You are high-handed and arrogant. Far too forward and set in your ways like a bachelor.” Andrew said. He stepped directly in front of her and waited till she met his eye. “You are also fascinating. Far brighter than I’ll ever be and beautiful when you drop that perpetual frown you wear. And I have loved you from afar since I’ve been in short pants.”
    Athena stopped breathing. Andrew had said, she thought he had said, that he loved her. It couldn’t be. He was young, dashing and never looked at her as anything but the severe sister of his best friend. “I’m older than you.”
    Andrew stepped to her side to let another guest pass. They resumed looking out over the crowd. “And I am untitled. A fop. A dandy. I remember each label you’ve assigned me. So I suppose we will roll along beside each other with Freddy in common till we’re too old to find anyone else.”
    Athena clasped her hands till her knuckles were white. “I suppose so, Andrew.”
     
    * * *
     
    The cranberry sauce on her gloves was a stroke of luck. Once gone from the dining rooms, Matilda didn’t bother returning. Her mother found her in her nightclothes huddled in a chair by the fire, book in hand.
    “Why haven’t you come back to the party, Matilda?” Frances asked.
    “A small headache. Nothing to concern yourself with.” Matilda looked up at her Mother. “Go enjoy yourself.”
    Frances sat down. “You’re sure a headache is all?”
    “Yes. Just a headache,” Matilda said. She pushed her glasses up her nose and saw her mother staring at her quizzically.
    “The Duke seemed most taken with you, Matilda.”
    She laughed. “Hardly Mother. With Juliet and Alexandra about I doubt that seriously.”
    “Don’t compare yourself to your sisters, dear. Each of you are very special in your own way.”
    Those kind words struck a chord in Matilda. Her mother wasn’t brilliant by any measure but she on occasion said exactly the right thing at precisely the right time. This was one of those moments. Matilda stared at the fire.
    “You are beautiful and clever,” Frances added.
    So clever, in fact, that on occasion Frances wondered if this woman were part of the Sheldon family. Matilda had since her earliest days been the problem solver, the thinker in the family. Leading in the classroom, in supper discussions Frances could not follow, even advising her father on estate matters. Had Frances not given birth to Matilda herself, nothing would have convinced her that she was, in fact, her own daughter.
    “Why wouldn’t you think the Duke is interested in you?” Frances asked.
    Matilda dropped her book to her lap. “Maybe I’m not interested in him, Mother.”
    “Not interested? Why ever not? The man is handsome and titled.”
    Because she could not envision herself living her life with a self-centered ne’er-do-well without the wherewithal to read a book or find some meaning in his life past parties like every other titled guest at Maplewood.
    “There must be more than that to a man’s worth, Mother. Certainly more than that to a man I’ll tie myself to for forty years,” Matilda replied.
    Frances eyed her daughter. “I am certain your requirements in a husband exceed Alexandra or Juliet’s. You would shrivel up and die if you hadn’t someone to argue with.”
    “Is that what I do, Mother? Argue? Yes, I imagine it is.”
    “Your father says you assert your opinion forcefully. I tend to agree with him. You do know he relies on those opinions on many occasions.”
    Matilda smiled. She’d been privy to her father’s study and the estate business for as long as she remembered. “I can’t imagine a husband allowing a wife the same liberties.”
    “It would depend most definitely on the husband.” Frances stood and tapped her lip with her finger. “He