His gaze swept the assembled guests, landing on the odious Lady St. Quentin. He could see her straining to hear.
Damnation. Rachael was right. He wasn't going to let that despicable, fortune-hunting woman decide his sister's fate. He couldn't consign Alexandra to a life of utter misery, even to save the rest of them from suffering society's disfavor. Not and live with himself, anyway.
With a sigh, he surrendered to the inevitable, marching back to face his old friend—damn the barefoot bastard—in his sister's doorway.
"Get dressed," he said tightly. "The Archbishop of Canterbury is half a day's ride, and you're in need of a special license."
TWENTY-EIGHT
ALEXANDRA SIGHED as she watched the last of their guests' carriages roll out of the quadrangle. "Why do I think they're all going to gather at the end of the road and have a good gossip?"
"Because they will," Juliana said.
"The repercussions have begun already." Alexandra turned to follow her siblings back inside. "They didn't even stay long enough to finish breakfast."
"That's only because it was stone-cold," Corinna said, sitting on an old, ornate treasure chest.
"No, it wasn't." Tired and demoralized, Alexandra plopped onto one of the walnut hall chairs. "No one wants to associate with us. Dear God in heaven. What am I going to do?"
"You're going to marry Tristan tomorrow." Griffin sat on the third step of the staircase, leaning forward with his elbows on his spread knees, his hands dangling between them. "And you're going to be happy. I demand it."
"How can I be happy when the rest of you will be miserable?" A single tear rolled down her cheek.
An expression of horror stole over his face. He sat up straighter. "You're marrying the man you claim to love. There's no crying allowed. You hear me?"
"She's not crying for herself," Juliana said, moving to pat Alexandra on the shoulder. "She never cries for herself. She's crying for us."
"I'm not crying," Alexandra said, swiping at the rogue tear with a frustrated motion.
In truth, she wasn't sure why she was crying. She was a bundle of emotions. One moment she was elated to be marrying Tris, the next racked with guilt that it meant making pariahs out of her siblings. And she was humiliated beyond belief—absolutely mortified that half of society had seen her naked in her bedroom.
"I'm sorry." She gave a long, wretched sniff. "I've ruined all your lives."
"Good God," Griffin said. "Cheer up, will you? You don't see any of us crying."
"We're thrilled for you," Juliana put in.
Alexandra looked around at all the grim faces. "Indeed."
"We are," Corinna insisted. "We're just a little…shocked. You've always been the good sister."
"Well, I've been changing, in case you haven't noticed. It seems my transformation is now complete. From a paragon of traditional femininity to an utter tart, and all inside of a single summer."
"No one thinks you're a tart," Juliana said.
Corinna nodded. "A little fast, perhaps, but—"
"She's about to be a married matron," Juliana interrupted, glaring at her younger sister. "There's nothing fast about that. Griffin, you did exactly the right thing."
"Thank you," he said dryly.
Alexandra sighed. "There was no right thing."
"Does Tristan really sleepwalk?" Corinna asked her brother.
He nodded. "All of his life." His jaw clenched. "I'm going to kill him."
Alexandra jumped up. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Sit down. I was jesting." Rubbing the back of his neck, he added, "I'd like to kill him, but I'll restrain myself. For your sake."
"Thank you." She plopped back down.
"Just be happy. That's all the thanks I require."
But she couldn't be happy—not when she'd ruined her family's reputation. She wouldn't be happy until she fixed that. Until her sisters could win any men they wanted. Until Griffin didn't have to defend his friend or his decision to allow her to marry him.
Until, she realized, the seeds of an idea taking root in her brain, she found the evidence that would clear Tris's name.
"Just give me a week or two," she said slowly. "Then we'll all be happy."
Corinna's blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I'm going to find whoever murdered Tris's uncle." She could do it. She had to do it. "Then Tris won't be shunned anymore by society, and you'll be able to make a brilliant match. After all, your older sister will be married to a handsome, popular marquess who is well known for his expertise in machinery, animal husbandry, and land management." Alexandra tried for a brave grin.
"You're going to find his uncle's murderer," Griffin said flatly. Disbelievingly.
She raised her chin. "Yes. I am."
"How?" Juliana asked.
"I don't know. I'll need to investigate matters at Hawkridge Hall."
"Tristan doesn't think there is a murderer," Griffin reminded her. "He thinks his uncle died in his sleep."
"Well, we'd best all pray he's wrong, because a natural death will be much harder to prove. But if that's the case, I'll find a way, because it's the only hope for us all."
"Surely it's not as dire as all that," Juliana said.
But no one spoke up to agree with her, because it was as dire as all that.
Alexandra sighed into the silence.
"Holy Hannah!" Corinna exclaimed after a long moment.
Juliana turned to her. "What?"
"She's going to investigate matters at Hawkridge Hall. She's going to move to Hawkridge Hall."
"Tomorrow," Griffin said matter-of-factly. "I expect Tristan will want to leave directly after the wedding."
"She cannot leave tomorrow!" Juliana shook her head. "She's made no preparations, she has no trousseau, she—"
"She has no choice." Griffin stood, one hand on the staircase's marble rail. "I'm going to change my clothes and head out to the vineyard. Since Tristan has abandoned me, I'll need to install his pump." He started upstairs, gazing down at them as he went. "You'd better pack your things, Alexandra. And choose a wedding dress. With any luck, I'll be finished and back for dinner."
"A wedding dress," Alexandra breathed.
Corinna nodded. "A Lady of Distinction suggests a white one."
"I don't even own a white dress."
"You can
