“You are much bigger than I was,” Emma said to Julia.

Lilith eyed Julia’s belly but didn’t say anything. The used-to-be-Chadwick sisters were often bickering despite all being well-married women and mothers. Lilith had known some of them in her childhood when she had lived with her father but had come to know them all so much better since Thorney had brought her back to Hampshire. Of course, the fact that her brother married one of them meant they were now family, much to Lilith’s delight. She had an older sister and an older brother as well as Thorney but Nancy was kept busy by her husband and three children and Felton preferred to remain in London all year round. It always thrilled Lilith to spend time with all these redheaded sisters. They were so much more fun and exciting than all those staid, stiff, self-important people of high-society.

It still hurt that she was talked of by those self-important people, though. It should not, but it did. The truth was, her debut had not only been a spectacular disaster, but it had been disappointing too. Her limited introduction to titled ladies and gentlemen by way of these women had not prepared her for the dullness of London society. During her younger years, her mother had kept her isolated, mostly to protect her from the gossip surrounding her father who had not been a good man at all. Lilith had been naïve in believing her mother had kept her from something exciting and wonderful, and had hardly been able to wait until her introduction.

She disguised a sigh and put on a smile. Hopefully Harry was right—it would all be forgotten soon enough, and some other gossip would become more interesting than a silly girl who could not dance well and threw drinks over important women’s sizable bosoms. He had to be right. How could a man like him not be? Goodness, she could still feel that strong chest against her cheek and the way his thick arms banded about her.

“I’m hardly pregnant,” Julia declared, breaking through Lilith’s thoughts. “This baby will be a giant, I’m sure.” She rubbed her belly fondly.

Her sister Amelia leaned over and touched the growing bump. “It could be twins,” she mused.

Julia’s eyes widened, and she reached for a cup of tea. “Oh goodness.”

They had all gathered in the orangery at Harburgh House, which was Julia’s home. The Duke of Westholm had moved here with his brother some time ago and, according to Catherine, after marrying Julia, he had set about making improvements to the stately home. The orangery was one of them. The large building, lined with long windows made the most of the sun to ensure the growth of many exotic plants. Lilith half-hoped her brother might build one soon so that they could have fresh lemons and other fruits.

Julia lowered her cup. “I hardly feel ready for one baby, let alone two. Do you really think so?”

“You will be fine,” assured Amelia, who was the oldest of the sisters and tended to act a little like a mother figure to them all, including Lilith. “It is surprising how quickly you get used to it.” She scooped up Nicholas who made a grab for his mother’s skirts. “Is that not right, my love?” she said to the baby, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Do you remember Daisy Chesterfield? She had twins. She was huge!” said Catherine with a grin as she paused rocking Emma’s baby boy who was now several months old and almost crawling but had tired of exploring the room and had opted for snoozing in his aunt’s arms.

“Oh dear,” groaned Julia.

“You shall be the size of a house, I bet.” Catherine’s smile turned wicked. “We shall have to put you in a wheelbarrow to cart you about.”

“Catherine,” scolded Amelia.

Julia shrugged. “I already feel like a beast. Guy says he likes my new curves, but it is hard to get used to when one is used to being scrawny.”

Lilith shook her head. “I’d rather be scrawny than lumpy and bumpy like me.”

“Nonsense.” Catherine tutted. “No one likes scrawny. And you are far from lumpy and bumpy.”

Lilith didn’t argue with her sister-in-law. She was far curvier than any of the redheaded and long-limbed sisters. As much as she adored all these ladies, it was hard sometimes to sit next to them and feel like a big, clumsy oaf.

“Ooh, if you are expecting twins, maybe we shall finally get girls.” Emma clapped her hands together. “I can knit something in a nice, feminine color. Yellow perhaps.”

“Perhaps you should wait until the babies are born,” suggested Amelia.

“Or never,” murmured Catherine.

Unfortunately, Emma thought herself quite the knitter and had even gifted Lilith a scarf and some mittens for winter, but they were the ugliest things she had ever owned and were entirely out of proportion. Catherine had confided that everyone received such gifts from Emma and they were all equally ugly.

Julia rubbed her tummy. “They will be boys, anyway, I just know it. One generation of Chadwick girls is enough for the world, I think.”

“Oh, so now you do think you are having twins.” Catherine chuckled.

Julia grinned. “I imagine once they start kicking, we will know for certain.”

“Anyway, enough twin talk.” Emma waved a hand. “We need to discuss preparations for this ball. If the Prince Regent attends, we have plenty of work to do.”

Just the thought of all those people attending made Lilith’s stomach flutter. The ball that Julia and her husband Guy intended to hold would be one of the grandest social occasions outside of London. Everyone who was anyone would attend, especially if the Prince Regent intended to show his face. And why would he not? The duke was a powerful man indeed.

“I probably should not attend,” muttered Lilith. “I shall ruin it all.”

She had not really intended for anyone to hear but apparently everyone did, particularly as this was the moment Nicholas decided to stop his squalling and fall asleep in his mother’s arms.

“Nonsense. If anyone will ruin it, it’s likely to be Catherine.” Julia arched an eyebrow at the sister in question.

“Not at all.” Catherine straightened. “I’m a model marchioness.” A smile teased her lips.

“Were you being a model marchioness when Mr. B. came to visit?” Lilith asked.

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Oh do not mention that insufferable man. Thorne was only polite to him because he had no idea what the horrible man did and quite how dull and tedious he is.”

“What exactly did he do?” Lilith asked. “You never did say.”

Catherine slung a glance at Emma, whose cheeks grew rosy.

“What did you do to him, Catherine?” Lilith pressed.

“I kicked him out on his behind of course. As soon as I saw him sitting down to tea with Thorne, I slung him out. I was not going to have him drinking my tea or eating my cakes after what he did.”

“Yes, but what did he do?” pressed Lilith.

Julia leaned in. “Did you kick him?”

“No, but I wanted to.” Catherine’s grin turned smug. “I have not kicked a man since accidentally kicking Thorne.”

Lilith had heard the tale of her brother’s first meeting with Catherine and how he had come away with bruised shins after he had startled her. Though small, Catherine could be quite fierce. Lilith envied her friend’s courage at times. How Lilith wished she could kick those awful newspaper writers in the shins or…or elsewhere.

Lilith turned her attention to Emma. “What did Mr. B. do?” The way they were talking, it sounded as though he must have done something terrible indeed.

Emma shook her head. “It was nothing really.”

“It was not nothing,” Amelia insisted. “Even I could not disagree with how Morgan reacted.”

“But what did he do?” asked Lilith, unable to keep the exasperation from her voice.

Catherine chuckled. “After Emma and Morgan married, Mr. B. developed quite the admiration for Emma. He tried to get her to have an affair and Morgan punched him.”

“Goodness.” Lilith pressed a hand to her chest. “I miss out on all the fun.”

“It was not fun,” said Emma. “It was all quite embarrassing.”

“I think I’d be rather excited if a man punched someone for me,” Lilith mused. “It sounds awfully heroic.”

“We were at a summer party and Mr. B. is hardly a threat. There was nothing heroic to it.” Emma’s slightly dreamy expression belied her words, however.

Lilith could not help but think back to Harry’s threats. He was the sort of man who would call someone out for harming her and he was certainly hero material. From wide shoulders to thick thighs, and strong, capable hands. Her cheeks warmed simply thinking about the way his rough fingertips brushed across her face. Yes, Harry would punch someone for her, and the idea left her a little breathless.

“So you see,” said Catherine, “if anyone is likely to make a show, it would be any one of us. You have nothing to worry about.”

Julia nodded. “Think of this as another chance to dazzle everyone. No doubt your brother will buy you a beautiful gown and we shall be sure to only invite the best gentlemen. You will have your pick!”

“Yes,” agreed Lilith vaguely.

It was odd. For so long she had dreamed of being whirled around the ballroom by men in their cravats and evening wear while chandeliers shimmered above, and polished floors gleamed beneath. Now she longed for the crunch of hay beneath her and the touch of rough cotton underneath her fingertips.

“Now, back to this ball,” declared Julia. “We have so much to organize. I made some notes somewhere.” She patted the chair and frowned. “Blast, where are they?”

Noah, Emma’s baby, began to squall, forcing Catherine stand and rock the baby as it’s cries grew louder. The noise woke Nicholas who squirmed in his mother’s arms until she was forced to put him down and let him do a little crawling.

Catherine winced when the screaming grew louder, and the baby dug his chubby fingers into her gown. “I think he’s hungry,” she called over the din.

Emma shook her head. “He cannot be. He only fed an hour ago. He must be tired.”

“But he just slept,” Catherine protested.

Julia grimaced. “If I do have twins, I shall never survive.”

“Of course you will,” said Amelia, who was forced to chase after Nicholas when he pulled himself up and began digging out the dirt from one of the plant pots and stuffing it in his mouth.

“I really must find my notes.” Julia frowned. “I had menus written out and a dance list.”

The front doors to the orangery burst open and a blur of golden fur darted in between the plant pots. The duke’s dog paused briefly to lift his leg against one of the pots and Julia jumped up as quickly as she could to shoo him away. “No, Roo. Bad.”

The dog ignored his mistress and plodded around the pots, giving each one a sniff before coming in between the chairs and knocking a cup with his wagging tail.

“Roo!” exclaimed Julia, snatching the cup away before it was knocked to the floor.

The din increased when Nicholas began crying because he was not allowed to eat dirt and Noah’s cries had seemed to reach new heights. Each mother tried to shush the babies, but they were having none of it. Lilith opted for helping to shoo the dog out of the orangery before the large animal did any proper damage, but he darted away any time either she or Julia came near.

Finally he decided to stop and relieve himself again. This time on a sheet of paper that had somehow ended up on the floor.

“Oh no, my notes!” wailed Julia. “They took me hours.”

Lilith gave up and sat back down, reaching for a cake and ignoring the noise and chaos around her. It was easily done when all she needed to do was think of being in Harry’s arms. In fact, she was so lost in thought that once the dog had been sent away, the babies had been silenced and Julia had decided that she could make new notes instead, she had hardly noticed the conversation turning back toward her.

“She’s thinking of all those handsome men who will be dying to dance with her,” teased Catherine.

Lilith merely smiled. She could not possibly confide what she was really thinking.