“I thought we were meant to go for a ride,” I said, somewhat irritably. Had I sweltered in my riding habit for nothing?

“You were,” Mother murmured, her brow knitting together as she watched the carriage draw near.

I did not think that Mr. Brougham-or whoever was in the carriage-could see into the drawing room through the open window, but just in case, I maintained my dignified position on the sofa, tilting my head ever so slightly so that I could observe the events in the front drive.

The carriage came to a halt, and a gentleman hopped down, but his back was to the house, and I could see nothing of him other than his height (average) and his hair (dark). He then reached up and assisted a lady down.

Dulcie Brougham!

“What is she doing here?” I said indignantly.

And then, once Dulcie had both feet safely on the ground, the gentleman aided another young lady, then another. And then another.

“Did he bring all of the Brougham girls?” my mother asked.

“Apparently so.”

“I thought they hated him.”

I shook my head. “Apparently not.”

The reason for the sisters’ about-face became clear a few moments later, when Gunning announced their arrival.

I do not know what Cousin Charles used to look like, but now…well, let us just say that any young lady would find him pleasing. His hair was thick and with a bit of wave, and even from across the room, I could see that his eyelashes were ridiculously long. His mouth was the sort that always looks as if it is about to smile, which in my opinion is the best sort of mouth to have.

I am not saying that I felt anything other than polite interest, but the Brougham sisters were falling all over themselves to be the one on his arm.

“Dulcie,” my mother said, walking forth with a welcoming smile. “And Antonia. And Sarah.” She took a breath. “And Cordelia, too. What a pleasant surprise to see all of you.”