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the biddies for being the first to provide grist for the
gossip mill. The whispers are already rampant.”
    “A private dinner party would be an excellent introduction,”
Bell agreed. “Perhaps just Tess, though. Syd would be bored faint.”
    “No, I wouldn’t, honestly,” Syd said in eagerness. “I love
parties!”
    “You have not suffered through a political dinner,” Bell said
firmly. “I assure you, you would slide under the table. We should contain
gossip and direct it to anticipation of society meeting you.”
    Jo grinned. “Devious, milady. I bow to your better strategy.”
She turned to Syd. “We will think of a more interesting affair for your
introduction, something that includes more young people. Will you be attending
finishing school in the fall?”
    Syd looked appalled.
    “We’ve not had time to discuss anything but infants and
clothes,” Bell said apologetically. “And just now, horses. It has come to my
attention that the earl of Wexford cannot ride. I have been debating inflicting
the lot of them on Fitz and Abby or repairing to Belden Hall in Essex and
buying my own stable.”
    The latter made her faint heart quail, but for her siblings,
she would provide Paris, France, if required.
    “Fitz and Abby, definitely.” Jocelyn poured her own tea and
helped herself to a biscuit. “Fitz can help you choose a stable should you
decide to improve that distressing manse in Essex.”
    “You are right, of course,” Bell agreed with a sigh. “I just
hate imposing on their good natures.”
    She really needed to enlist Jocelyn’s well-connected husband
in her cause, but she had yet to tell the girls that their “guardian” was
actually a crotchety old Scot who never left his northern hills.
    Fortunately, a maid arrived with a message from the nursery,
and Tess excused herself. Belle waved Syd after her. “Go. We’ll just gossip
about people you don’t know.”
    Bell mentally commended the girls’ Irish nanny stepmother
when both performed correct curtsies and farewells before departing.
    “They’ll do splendidly once we polish their accents,” Jo
said in approval. “I take it they weren’t entirely raised by wild Indians as
rumor has it.”
    Bell gave an unladylike snort. “Not entirely, although I
suspect the Indians may be more civilized than my father was. I have Summerby
investigating the girls’ circumstances. They claim Kit’s mother was a nanny,
but I suspect she was a governess. She seems to have taught them more than I
knew at that age.”
    Jo sipped her tea and raised knowing eyebrows. “So, then,
tell me what is troubling you and how can I help?”
    Belle didn’t hesitate. “You can ask your husband to speak
with the duke to see if he will support me when I sue for guardianship.”

Four
    “I talked to a duke,” Tess was still exclaiming the
morning after Jocelyn’s dinner party. “And a viscount . . .
That’s less than a duke, isn’t it? But he was so charming!”
    Syd hung on to every word, crumbling her toast over the
breakfast table. “Were any of them young? Handsome? What did they talk about?”
    Tess wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Montague was handsome, but he
was the youngest, and he must be in his thirties. And they talked politics and
said terrible things about the American government.”
    Bell reached over and patted her hand. “I hope you do not
have holes in your tongue this morning. You did an excellent job of smiling
prettily and stabbing them with your eyes. I am very proud of you.”
    She was bursting with pride. Even Jocelyn had agreed that
Tess would do well once she’d learned enough about society to actually converse
instead of just giving speaking glares. At least, Bell hoped Tess would learn
to speak up. Right now, her sister spent most of her time assessing the
situation—probably as a result of their unfortunate upbringing.
    “Do you ever have real parties with dancing and people my
age?” Syd asked wistfully.
    “We will.” Bell didn’t