Bella grasped Mira’s hands tightly, desperately. “Maman has told me to stay away from Jeremy, that he is not a suitable husband at all. Maman and Papa rely upon me marrying well. If I do not, they might end up in debtor’s prison.”

Mira frowned, skeptical.

“Truly,” Bella said, “Maman told me so. She said that I must marry a wealthy man, even if he has no title. If I do not, whatever happens to Maman and Papa will be all my fault, and she will never speak to me again.”

Poor Bella, the whole family’s fortunes resting on her delicate shoulders. Mira had never considered that Bella was as constrained by Society’s expectations as she herself was. Life offered them each so few real choices.

Extricating one hand from Bella’s grasp and using it to gently cup her flushed cheek, Mira tried again to sooth Bella’s nerves. “You only need to give this some time. Perhaps with a bit of persuasion, Aunt Kitty might be brought around. Or, perhaps Mr. Ellerby and Ashfield will manage to work out their differences—after Mr. Ellerby is made to realize that Ashfield did not kill Olivia Linworth. If they settle their differences, then Mr. Ellerby’s financial future will be more secure.

“Or,” she continued, more cautiously, “perhaps in a month or two either you or Mr. Ellerby will have realized that your love was only a temporary infatuation.”

Bella’s eyes welled again with tears. “But I do not have a month or two to sort everything out. I only have a few days!”

“Why is that? I know you will be returning to London soon. But Blackwell keeps a townhouse there, and, if he is serious in his intentions, Mr. Ellerby could come to town to court you.”

“Oh, Mira, it is more complicated than that. I need your help, but you must swear yourself to secrecy.” Bella’s eyes blazed with an intensity Mira had never seen there before.

With some reluctance, Mira agreed. “I promise you I will keep your confidence. Whatever you say to me now, I will not tell a soul. But,” she added, raising a cautioning hand, “I cannot swear to help you until I know what you plan.”

Bella’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. “Jeremy has asked me to elope with him. This Friday. Everyone will be attending the Midsummer festivities in Upper Bidwell, and Jeremy assures me that it is a wild affair. We will slip away, and no one should notice we are missing until we are miles and miles away.

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“We have everything figured out,” Bella continued in a conspiratorial whisper. “Jeremy will stay behind that night, and, after everyone leaves for the festival, he will go into town to get a coach from the livery. That way we will be harder to track. I will go to the festival, so that no one suspects anything, but then will sneak back in the midst of the evening. We do not need much help. But I am afraid to leave my luggage in my room, for fear that Maman or Lady Beatrix will get suspicious or will see me leave and will look for me there. I need someplace to hide my bags and myself until Jeremy gets the coach. You could let me hide them here, couldn’t you?”

Despite the note of giddy terror in Bella’s tone, a tiny smile toyed with the corners of her lips. Mira knew that she stood little chance of talking Bella out of this hare-brained scheme. Still, as the closest thing Bella had to an older sister, Mira felt an obligation at least to point out the pitfalls of Bella’s plan.

“Bella,” Mira began slowly, holding her cousin’s eyes with her own and hoping Bella could see her sincerity. “I know that the prospect of an elopement must seem like a grand adventure. And I know you and Mr. Ellerby are in love, but I do not think you should rush into anything. First, as you said, you risk upsetting your mother. And I know you would not wish to do that. But you should also give your relationship with Mr. Ellerby an opportunity to develop, to be certain that your passion for one another does not burn hot, but short. Believe me, if I had a choice, I would prefer to get to know Ashfield better before I wed him. I simply do not think it wise to wed without the benefit of time or your mother’s counsel.”

Bella’s expression turned dark, her gaze sharply calculating. “Are you going to tell Maman?”




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