The Duke Who Knew Too Much by Grace Callaway Read Free Book Online Page B

and flawless face and form, Rosie Kent was a stunning miniature of Marianne. At sixteen, the spirited girl was already beginning to turn heads, and Ambrose joked that he dreaded the day of Rosie’s coming out for surely he’d have to start carrying a shotgun to fend off her suitors.
    As Emma closed the door, her middle sister Violet declared, “Last one to the bed is the rotten egg!” and, amidst muffled squeals and giggles, the four girls made a mad dash for the destination.
    Relieved for the return to normalcy, Emma dragged a chair to the side of the bed. She sat and found herself under the scrutiny of four pairs of bright, inquisitive eyes. Her sisters had arranged themselves along the length of bed, with Violet at the foot, Polly and Rosie in the middle, and Thea at the head.
    As usual, Violet spoke first. She sat cross-legged, her chestnut hair tumbling down her back. Agile and energetic, she gave the impression of constant motion.
    “Start at the beginning, Em,” she said, “and don’t leave anything out.”
    “The beginning of what?”
    Vi rolled her caramel-colored eyes. “Your visit to the magistrates’ office today, of course.”
    For the time being, Ambrose and Emma had both agreed to keep mum on the subject of Lady Osgood’s murder. They’d thought it best to protect their younger siblings from the gruesome details for as long as possible. Protecting a Kent from her own curiosity was never an easy task, however.
    “How did you find out?” Emma said with a sigh.
    “We didn’t mean to snoop.” Thea’s hazel eyes were soft with apology. She rested against the headboard, her hands gracefully stroking Tabitha who lay belly-up and purring in her lap. “We found out by accident.”
    A year younger than Emma, Dorothea was the gentlest of the Kents. Emma attributed it to Thea’s constitution, which had been frail since childhood. Although her health had grown more robust, Thea continued to favor more sedate pursuits, and Emma thought proudly that her sister’s performance at the pianoforte could compare with that of any fine London lady.
    “Thea found out by accident. I snooped,” Vi said with aplomb. “I asked Millie the chambermaid to ask John the groom where you and Ambrose had gone all day. Since John has eyes for Millie, he told her straightaway. Thea overheard me telling Polly and Primrose about it.”
    “You’re not supposed to encourage gossip amongst the servants, Violet,” Emma chided.
    “Pish posh. Stop trying to change the subject,” her incorrigible sister replied.
    “Yes, do tell.” Rosie’s smile could charm a bird from a tree, and her tone was just short of wheedling. “You wouldn’t want us to perish from curiosity, would you?”
    “You should tell us, Emma, for your sake if not ours,” Polly put in.
    Emma’s youngest sister sat with her arms hugging her knees. The womanhood which had begun to blossom so radiantly in Rosie hadn’t yet unfurled in Polly. At sixteen, she was still a small, thin girl with wavy hair that was neither blond nor brown but a range of shades in between. To Emma, her baby sister possessed a unique beauty: Polly’s solemn features exuded quiet dignity, a blend of wisdom and innocence in her aquamarine eyes.
    At times, those remarkable eyes seemed to see too deeply. Back in Chudleigh Crest, there’d been whispers about Polly being “odd,” which had made the sensitive girl retreat into shyness. As a result, Emma and the rest of the siblings were particularly protective of her.
    Family always stood together.
    “Why for my sake, dear?” she asked.
    “Because something’s bothering you,” Polly said with her quiet perceptiveness. “You’ve always said that we could come to you with anything. So you should feel free to talk to us in return.”
    “You haven’t been yourself, Em. Even I can see that,” Vi added.
    “We just want to help,” Rosie chimed in.
    “But only if you wish us to,” Thea said.
    “For heaven’s sake, you win.”