He lifted her gloved hand and pressed a kiss to the back. "My dear, you look exquisite."
She'd never heard anything quite so disingenuous.
Juliana elbowed her discreetly. "Perhaps Lord Shelton would like to taste one of your ratafia puffs."
Alexandra looked down to the silver tray, forgotten in her other hand. "Oh, not quite yet." Her laughter sounded forced to her own ears. "Don't you think we should pour the tea first?"
Ignoring her sisters' puzzled frowns, she walked clear across the room and put the tray on a gilt-legged table that sat against the wall.
Juliana began pouring. "The puffs can hardly work their magic from over there."
"Magic?" Lord Shelton inquired.
"Please do sit," Alexandra told him, leaving the tray safely distant while she made her way back across the room. She seated herself on one of the light blue velvet sofas instead of a chair; a tactical error, since Lord Shelton immediately took the place beside her.
That wouldn't have bothered her yesterday. But his scent—an Oriental mix—was too flowery and suddenly annoying.
When Juliana handed her a teacup, she rose and went to Lord Hawkridge where he was talking with her brother. He smelled of clean soap and starch and something else she couldn't identify—but it was decidedly male. "Tea, my lord?"
"Thank you." He took it while barely sparing her a glance. "Not every variety is suited to our climate," he said to Griffin.
"You're welcome," Alexandra murmured.
"Alexandra," Corinna called conspicuously, "since you're up, why don't you get the ratafia puffs and bring them over here?"
"Not just yet." Alexandra marched to the sofa and plopped back down, giving her sister a pointed look. "I've decided I'm not certain I wish to serve the ratafia puffs at all."
Lord Shelton glanced between them, clearly confused. "And why not?"
"Yes, why not?" Corinna pressed. "They're supposed to be magical."
"Precisely." Alexandra accepted another teacup from Juliana and sipped. "I've no wish to employ magic."
"Magic?" Lord Shelton repeated.
Juliana stood. "May I speak with you in private?" Before Alexandra could disagree, she pulled her up by the arm and drew her out into the picture gallery, Corinna in their wake.
Juliana's hazel eyes radiated concern. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Alexandra glanced away, her gaze landing on a solemn ancestor who glared from a canvas on the smooth stone wall, looking exceedingly disapproving.
"Nothing?" If possible, Corinna appeared even more disapproving. "Why won't you give Lord Shelton one of the magical ratafia puffs?"
"Magical?" Putting scorn into her voice, Alexandra focused on each of her sisters in turn. "Do you truly believe that eggs and sugar can be magical?"
"Of course not," Corinna said quickly. "But don't you think it's worth a try?"
Juliana laid a gloved hand on Alexandra's arm. "If they did work," she said gently, "you could add a notation to Eleanor Cainewood's entry in the recipe book, verifying her allegation. It's a tradition."
"I don't care," Alexandra said blithely. At least, she hoped she sounded blithe.
Her sisters stared at her, their eyes wide.
"You don't care?" Juliana breathed. "About tradition?" She pulled off a glove and reached to touch Alexandra's forehead. "Are you ill?"
"No." Alexandra drew away. "I just don't care about this silly tradition."
"But, Alexandra…" Juliana hugged herself. "You're the most traditional person I've ever met."
It was true. Juliana was known for her wild ideas—always meant to help, of course—and Corinna was a bit of a rebel. But Alexandra always did exactly the right thing. She ran her brother's enormous household like clockwork; she kept up with her correspondence; she visited the villagers and tenants, both healthy and ailing, always with some famous Chase sweets in hand. She could sing, play the pianoforte, make lovely profile portraits, and embroider—and if she wasn't exactly renowned for any of those talents, at least she was competent.
Alexandra was a perfect lady. The best single word to describe her was traditional. But right at the moment, tradition could hang for all she cared.
She set her jaw. "I don't want Lord Shelton to eat any ratafia puffs."
Her sisters exchanged matching looks of astonishment. "Why?" Juliana asked carefully.
Corinna cocked her head. "Are you that certain he'll propose without them?"
"I don't wish him to propose at all."
Juliana dropped her glove. "What?"
"You heard me." Alexandra drew a deep breath, relieved the truth was out. "I've changed my mind."
Juliana blinked. "But Griffin expects you to marry Lord Shelton."
When Alexandra only shrugged, Corinna frowned. "You always do the expected thing."
"How very tedious. It's about time I changed, don't you think?"
"Girls?" Alexandra's flabbergasted sisters were saved from answering when Griffin stepped into the gallery. "What are you all doing out here?"
"Talking." Juliana bent to retrieve her glove.
Griffin looked toward the stone-vaulted ceiling as though praying for heaven-sent strength. "Lord Shelton is inquiring after your presence." He lowered his gaze to Alexandra and smiled. "He likes your sweets very much."
"Oh!" she said, when she wanted to say "Drat!" Not that she believed in magic, but…what if the ratafia puffs worked? She didn't want to actually turn down Lord Shelton's proposal. Griffin would never forgive her.
"I'm not feeling well," she told him—and suddenly, it wasn't a fib. The thought of marrying Lord Shelton made nausea rise in her throat. "Please give Lord Shelton my apologies," she said. "I must go lie down."
FOUR
ALEXANDRA SAT at her gold-and-white Chippendale dressing table, gazing at the oval cameo she'd dug out of the bottom of her jewelry box. "It's pretty, isn't it?"
"Beautiful, my lady." The maid she shared with her sisters deftly pinned up her hair. "I've never seen you wear it before."
"It's been put away for a long time."
Alexandra hadn't been able to find the note that had come with the cameo that exciting day it arrived, about a year after Tris left for the West Indies. But she'd read it so many times, the words
