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America and the North Western Territory.”
    She caught her lip between her teeth, clearly trying not to smile.
    â€œIris!” Daisy called out.
    â€œIt appears we won’t have to stage an interruption,” Richard said as they closed the gap between the two couples.
    â€œI have invited Mr. Bevelstoke to the poetry reading at the Pleinsworths’ next week,” Daisy said. “Do insist that he attend.”
    Iris stared at her sister in horror before turning to Winston. “I . . . insist that you attend?”
    Daisy gave a petulant snort at her sister’s lack of resolve and turned back to Winston. “You must attend, Mr. Bevelstoke. You simply must. It is sure to be uplifting. Poetry always is.”
    â€œNo,” Iris said, with a pained frown, “it’s really not.”
    â€œOf course we will be there,” Richard announced.
    Winston’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
    â€œWe wouldn’t miss it,” Richard assured Daisy.
    â€œThe Pleinsworths are our cousins,” Iris said with a pointed look. “You might recall Harriet. She played violin—”
    â€œ Second violin,” Daisy cut in.
    â€œâ€”in the concert last night.”
    Richard swallowed. She could only be talking about the one who could not read music. Still, there was no reason to think this boded ill for a poetry reading.
    â€œHarriet’s a bore,” Daisy said, “but her younger sisters are darling.”
    â€œI like Harriet,” Iris said firmly. “I like her a great deal.”
    â€œThen I am certain it will be a most pleasant evening,” Richard said.
    Daisy beamed and looped her arm once again through Winston’s, leading the way back to the Cumberland Gate through which they’d entered. Richard followed with Iris, setting their pace more slowly so that they might be able to speak privately.
    â€œIf I were to call upon you tomorrow,” he asked in a quiet voice, “would you be at home?”
    She did not look at him, which was a pity, because he would have liked to see her blush again.
    â€œI would,” she whispered.
    That was the moment he decided. He was going to marry Iris Smythe-Smith.

Chapter Four
    Later that evening
    A London ballroom
    â€œT HEY ’ RE NOT HERE yet,” Daisy said.
    Iris pretended to smile. “I know.”
    â€œI’ve been watching the door.”
    â€œI know.”
    Daisy fussed with the lace on her minty green dress. “I do hope Mr. Bevelstoke likes my gown.”
    â€œI do not see how he could find it anything less than charming,” Iris said quite honestly. Daisy drove her utterly mad most of the time, and Iris did not always have kind words for her younger sister, but she was willing to give compliments when they were deserved.
    Daisy was lovely. She had always been lovely, with her bright golden curls and rosebud mouth. Their coloring really wasn’t too terribly different, but what shone like gold on Daisy left Iris rather bleached and washed-out.
    Her nanny had once said that Iris could vanish in a bucket of milk, and really, she wasn’t too far off the mark.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have worn that color,” Daisy said.
    â€œAnd just when I was having benevolent thoughts,” Iris muttered. She liked the ice blue silk of her gown. She rather thought it brought out her eyes.
    â€œYou should be wearing darker colors. For contrast.”
    â€œContrast?” Iris echoed.
    â€œWell, you need some color.”
    One of these days, she was going to kill her sister. She really was.
    â€œNext time we go shopping,” Daisy continued, “let me pick out your gowns.”
    Iris stared at her for a moment, then started to walk away. “I’m getting some lemonade.”
    â€œFetch some for me, would you?” Daisy called out.
    â€œNo.” Iris didn’t think Daisy heard her, but she didn’t much care. She’d figure out eventually that no