Tilly returned to the house ready for a stern dressing down, or worse, but her mother wasn’t waiting for her inside the garden door. Daring to hope she hadn’t been seen, Tilly changed for dinner. She approached the dining room wracked with nerves, but not a word was said about the kiss. Her parents and Prudence hardly looked her way during the meal.

As it was obvious her parents didn’t know about the kiss, Tilly tried to convince herself no one had seen her with Lord James. Their mother and Prudence would have walked Missus Clarke out together, or left the parlor for other tasks. There was no reason anyone should have looked out the window.

When morning came and brought the arduous etiquette exam from Prudence, Tilly’s worry was renewed. Prudence asked question after question about the protocol for being alone with a gentleman. Though her sister’s expression gave no hint she’d actually seen Lord James in the garden, Tilly’s nerves grew ever more thinly stretched. How Prudence would torment her, she didn’t know, but if her sister knew and was showing forbearance, it was only to build to the perfect strike.

Prudence’s nearly hour-long quiz was cut short by the arrival of Missus Clarke. Tilly’s mother called for Prudence, tea and Tilly, in that order. She approached the parlor filled with anxiety. Before an audience was when Prudence was most likely to strike.

Tilly settled onto the settee. When she lifted her teacup, her hand shook enough to rattle the delicate porcelain against the saucer. Her mother cast her a glare. Tilly set the tea down.

The three women began to talk. No one looked Tilly’s way. She began to think Prudence hadn’t seen her with Lord James after all. Her sister’s etiquette questions had been coincidence.

Tilly relaxed further once it became obvious the three women had forgotten her existence. Taking up her tea with a steadier hand, she permitted her mind to wander to the kiss. A smile tilted her lips. Would there be another kiss in his carriage that afternoon?

“…listen to servants’ gossip, but Lord James’s valet said a letter arrived last evening that threw the duke into a rage.” Missus Clarke’s words penetrated Tilly’s daydreams. Her attention caught on James’s name.

“I beg your pardon?” Tilly said. She set down her tea with a clunk.

Her mother shot her a reproachful look. “Tilly, don’t interrupt, and do stop abusing the china.”

“Did your maid know what the letter was about?” Prudence asked, her voice disinterested.

Missus Clarke shook her head. “They say his lordship crumpled the page into a ball, cursed colorfully enough to turn a sailor’s ears red, and shoved the note in his pocket.”

Prudence rolled her eyes. “How dramatic. Likely a purely invented tale. You know how servants gossip.”

“Quite right,” their mother said.

Tilly served herself several small tarts in hopes the movement masked her keen interest. A letter had upset James? Did that mean he wouldn’t come for her that afternoon? She hoped all was well, that the letter wasn’t bad news about his family or his country seat.

The women once again turned their conversation to managing men, a skill they seemed to think highly necessary. Tilly thought the idea silly. Though she’d never voice the opinion aloud, she suspected that if women put more time into finding a man they cared for, instead of one with the right title or fortune, they wouldn’t need to devote the remainder of their days to managing their husbands.

When tea finally ended, Tilly retreated to the front parlor, the more formal of the two, and pretended to read. In truth, she was watching the street for any sign of Lord James. If she leaned against the pane, facing his London home, she would know the moment he ordered his carriage made ready.

Only, no horses or carriage appeared. The minutes ticked by. They built into hours. Worry settled on her. There must have been something terribly dire in his letter to keep him from calling as he’d said he would. Her heart went out to him, hoping the trouble wasn’t with his mother or aunt, or anything else truly dreadful.

Finally, too late for a ride in the park, a gleaming black coach with the gold and green ducal crest was brought round. The coach was the sort of conveyance used to go about town, not the light, open carriage one would take to the park. He must mean, then, to head elsewhere. She frowned. Something dire had indeed taken place.

She pressed her cheek to the windowpane, hoping to catch a glimpse of him so she might judge his state of mind. She couldn’t see his door, or even steps, their houses being aligned, but moments later, James appeared. He was impeccably clad in evening clothes, the sort one might wear to a dance, or the theatre. He strode to the coach. A footman opened the door and James entered. He didn’t once glance in her direction.

Tilly stared, dismayed. He didn’t appear in the least distressed. The hour was too late for meeting attorneys or other men of business. Moreover, he was dressed for a night on the town. She wrinkled her forehead, mystified by his behavior.

“Whatever are you gaping at?”

Tilly snapped her head around at Prudence’s demand. Her sister stood framed in the doorway.

“Nothing.” Tilly tapped the open book in her lap. “I’m reading.”

“It’s grown too dark to read. You were looking out the window.” Prudence’s eyes narrowed. “And I know why.”

“There is no why,” Tilly said quickly.

“Oh, I think there is.” Prudence’s voice held a vindictive note Tilly knew all too well. “One that would get you locked away in this house, your season canceled.”

Tilly went cold. Prudence did know. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I saw you yesterday, in the garden, with that rake of a duke.”

Tilly clutched the book to her chest. “I wasn’t…I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is behave properly, or protect your virtue.” Prudence’s lips stretched into a grimace of disgust. “I saw you put your hands on Lord James and kiss him like some common wharfside doxy.”

Tilly shook her head, eyes wide with horror. It hadn’t been like that. She’d kissed him because he was sweet and sincere.

“Don’t tell Mother,” she whispered. The last thing she wanted was for her father to confront James and demand marriage. Honor might compel him to wed her, but he would hate her. He’d think she was like all those women he’d spoken of.

“We’ll see about telling Mother.” Prudence looked down her nose at Tilly. “Perhaps if you find a way to pay me back the fifty pounds you lost Erwin, I’ll decide not to inform her.”

Fifty pounds? Where on earth would Tilly get fifty pounds, and what had Prudence’s husband to do with any of it? “I don’t understand.”

Prudence rolled her eyes. “Of course you don’t. You’ve always been very simple. It’s sweet, really. Endearing, I’m sure. At least, it was when you were still virtuous. Now you’re just simple and ruined.”

“I am not ruined,” Tilly hissed. “It was one kiss. Nothing more.” Except it was more. It was the most perfect kiss ever shared. “No one needs to know.”

Prudence came farther into the room. “Well, I know, and Lord James knows, and he’s sure to tell Erwin the next time they meet, to claim his winnings.”

“What winnings?” Tilly snapped. Why did Prudence keep going on about money?

“From their wager,” Prudence said, shrugging. “Lord James said he’d seen you on the swing and wished to, ah, sample you. Erwin, honorable as he is, spoke in your defense. He said you would never permit yourself to be kissed.” Prudence’s voice took on a long-suffering note. “I tried to stop him from taking Lord James’s wager. I knew you couldn’t be trusted not to kiss the first man who got you alone.”

Tilly gaped at her sister. Was that why James hadn’t called? She looked back out into the darkening street. The elegant coach was gone. Pain knifed into her as she recalled how Lord James hadn’t even glanced toward their house. He’d acted as if she didn’t exist.

“Oh dear.” Prudence drew near in a rustle of silk.

Tilly squeezed her eyes shut and wished Prudence far away.

“Don’t tell me you’re upset,” Prudence said. She touched Tilly’s shoulder.

Tilly jerked away.

“Tilly, it was only a kiss. I won’t tell Mother, really. Don’t worry.” Prudence patted her awkwardly. “I can’t believe you came to care for him so quickly. I’m sorry you did. I tried to warn you that he’s a terrible rogue.”

It was true, Prudence had said as much.

“What was I thinking?” Tilly whispered.

“You’re young and silly,” Prudence said. “That’s why I’m here, to help you this season. I’ll see you don’t end up with the wrong gentleman.”

Tilly nodded. Her sister sounded so unusually kind, Tilly risked a glance. Prudence watched her with a look of grave concern.

“I’ll tell Mother you aren’t feeling well and won’t join us for dinner, shall I?” Prudence asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Tilly choked out.

Prudence offered a smile before she turned away. She hummed to herself as she crossed the room.

Tilly watched her sister disappear into the hall. She closed the book and dropped it to the floor beside her so she could pull up her knees. Arms wrapped tight about them, she buried her face in her skirt and wept.