England, 1846

“Mama! Mama!”

The familiar annoyed voice made the duchess close her book with a sigh as her fingers moved to her temples to massage them.

“One day my nerves will get the better of me and these two will be left to shout at the walls,” she told her brother, who shook his head in amusement.

A door slammed in the distance and the sound of stomping became louder and louder until a fair-haired girl barged into the room, wearing a very prominent scowl. “Mama, tell Lizzie that she cannot claim the first dance with Lord Deering. She just wants him because I do and it is just not fair!” Isobel stamped her foot on the ground in frustration.

Another young girl glided into the room and shrugged in a dainty manner. “Too bad. Do get over it, my dear, and stop making such a fuss. The servants are starting to gawk.”

As her sister picked up the book her mother had just put down, Isobel clenched her fists. “Be quiet, Lizzie! Mama!”

The duchess gave a pleading look to her brother, who sighed and stood up. “Why don’t you and I take a walk, Isobel? And let us see if we cannot sort through this mess.”

Isobel looked at her quietly smirking sister and then at her uncle. Gritting her teeth, she bit out, “I’ll get my bonnet.”

As soon as Isobel exited, the duchess looked at her oldest, disapprovingly. “Really, Lizzie? Lord Deering? What has gotten into you?”

Lizzie made a sound. “I cannot help it. He saw me whilst I was out riding and he asked me. How could I say no? I did not wish him to think my manners were poor. Besides, Isobel’s reaction amused me.” She made a face at the book and handed it back to her mother, “I’ve read this one. I did not approve of the ending.”

Her mother put the book on her lap and shook her head. “Must you tease your sister so?”

“Why should I not? She makes it so easy, Mama. I cannot help it.” Lizzie sat on the seat by the window and picked up her sewing. “Besides, I want Papa to come back. I am so very bored.”

The duchess looked on disapprovingly. “You are the daughter of a duke and duchess. I find it hard to believe that you find the time to be bored, darling.”

Lizzie just made a noncommittal sound and focused on her task. Lord Deering was too old for Isobel. The duchess was so determined that both her daughters make a good match that she had forgotten that Isobel needed someone who could temper that energy inside of her. Lord Deering seemed hardly the person for that. Lizzie planned on making sure Lord Deering stayed far away from her sister. She’d play with him like she had done with many others, and then toss him aside. Isobel would find the perfect match. After what Lizzie had experienced, she was determined to guide Isobel to a man who would treat her well.

Lizzie turned her head, watched her sister walk in a very unladylike manner and nearly snorted. She would make a lady of Isobel yet.

When Uncle James returned with a calmer niece, Lizzie rang the bell for tea, and as Isobel left to freshen up, her sister followed her.

“What?” Isobel asked in a sullen manner, as she sat down at her dressing table. A maid was waiting to fix Isobel’s hair.

“Leave us. I’ll do that,” Lizzie ordered the maid.

“Very good, m’lady.” The fresh-faced maid hurried out of the room.

“Why did you do that?” Isobel turned around in annoyance.

“Oh, hush now!” Lizzie undid Isobel’s curls and started setting them again. “Have you seen Lord Wentworth’s nephew?”

Frowning, Isobel played with the pins on the table, her fingers restless. “Which one? Lord Wentworth has relatives all over England.”

Grinning, Lizzie pinned up another curl. “The one who could not take his eyes off you during the ball last night.”

Isobel’s fingers stilled. “Why didn’t he ask me to dance?”

“Maybe he was too shy or perhaps you just did not give him the opportunity to ask. You should look for him today. He seemed quite taken with you.” Lizzie chuckled. “I nearly missed a step when I was dancing with Sir Bale.”

Isobel made a face. “Why? So that you can take him from me like you did Lord Deering?” She yelped when Lizzie pulled on her curls in reprimand.

“Lord Deering is practically ancient. He might just fall asleep while dancing.”

That made Isobel giggle against her will. “He is not that old. Granted, he may have a few gray hairs, but all distinguished suitors do these days.”

Lizzie met her sister’s eyes in the mirror, seriously. “Is that what you want? Do you want to tie yourself down to a boring old man? You will be bored to death, darling.”

“Then why did you accept his invitation to dance?”

Lizzie raised her brow. “Because Lord Deering is looking for a young wife whom he can control.” She tightened her hands on Isobel’s shoulders. “I will not let that be you.”

As they exited the room, her sister asked, “What if he decides he wants to marry you? I heard Lady Frederica asking Uncles James about whether you plan to accept a marriage proposal. Soon there won’t be any eligible men left, Lizzie. You keep turning every suitor away.”

Lizzie grinned. “Do not worry about me.”