And then something happened that was odder still: Lady A smiled a matching faint smile and sighed a matching contented sigh. And then she leaned so close to Corinna's cousin that the two of them were all but mashed together.
Lady C pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. "Oh, dear. I seem to be coming down with the sniffles."
"Me, too," Lady B said, although she looked perfectly fine. In fact, she and Lady C were both smiling. And so were Claire and Elizabeth. And they weren't faint smiles. They were smiles a mile wide.
"Would anyone care for some orange custard?" Juliana asked, rising from her seat. "Corinna, could you come with me to the kitchen to fetch it? And Claire and Elizabeth? I cannot carry ten cups all by myself, and James said that I shouldn't overexert myself in my delicate condition."
Juliana could certainly carry all ten cups in the same basket she'd brought them in, Corinna thought, and she hadn't seemed to overexert herself doing so earlier. But she rose and followed her sister anyway.
With a decided lack of regard for her delicate condition, Juliana hurried Corinna and their cousins from the drawing room and through the foyer. Halfway down the steps to the basement, she turned to them. "What in heaven's name is going on here? What on earth am I missing? Something has happened between Rachael and Lady Avonleigh. Something significant. I can tell."
A blind and deaf woman would be able to tell, Corinna thought.
Elizabeth coughed a little sniffly cough. "Lady A is Rachael's grandmother."
"What?" Juliana and Corinna burst out together.
Claire elbowed her sister in the ribs and sighed. "Rachael is Lady Avonleigh's granddaughter. And we're her granddaughters, too. It seems our mother was Lady A's younger daughter—the one who jumped off the London Bridge. Only she didn't, not really. She married our father and moved to Greystone instead. And she never went back to London, because she was afraid someone there would recognize her, and her family would know she was alive."
This was what had happened to make the two sets of sisters babble like that, Corinna realized. And no wonder—the six of them turning out to be related was a positively astounding coincidence. Even more astounding than everyone's being too busy to accompany her to Somerset House at the same time.
"That's why everyone was busy yesterday," Juliana marveled. "You two and Rachael and Ladies A, B, and C were all together, discovering all of this."
"Brilliant deduction," Corinna muttered sarcastically before turning to her cousins. "Your mother didn't have asthma, then."
"No, she didn't. That was just an excuse." Claire pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and blew her nose—because she was overcome with emotion, not because she was coming down with the sniffles. "Please don't tell Rachael you know. She'd be mortified."
"Why?" Corinna asked. "None of this is any fault of hers. Does she think so little of us that she believes Aunt Georgiana's deception would change our feelings towards her?"
"I fear she's not thinking at all right now." Claire crossed her arms over her amethyst bodice and leveled a familiar glare at her sister. "Much like Elizabeth. Again."
Elizabeth sniffled, too. "I'm sorry."
"We promise not to tell a soul." Corinna turned to Juliana. "Don't we?"
Juliana reached to touch both her cousins' arms reassuringly. "We love Rachael, and we're thrilled that she's found more family to love. And do you realize my husband James is your first cousin? How amazing is that?"
Juliana sounded sincere, but Corinna couldn't help noticing that she hadn't actually promised not to tell. She suspected her sister had her fingers mentally crossed. There was something in her tone, a frisson of glee, perhaps, that made Corinna sure she was already plotting her next move.
Juliana was a born meddler, after all, and no doubt she thought this news wonderful for all concerned. For their cousins, of course, and also for Lady A, who'd sorely missed her younger daughter and now had grandchildren at long last. But mostly for Griffin and Rachael, because Rachael's newfound happiness put Juliana that much closer to her goal of seeing the two of them together as a couple.
Corinna had no doubt Juliana would accomplish that goal, because her sister wasn't only a born meddler, she was an annoyingly good one—and anyone with two eyes in her head could see that Rachael and Griffin did belong together. Just like she, Corinna, belonged with Sean.
Sean, of course, was the "certain someone," because Juliana believed they belonged together, too. She'd made orange custard to bring them love. Regardless of the fact that it would be ineffective, that was a meddlesome thing, and Corinna was certain Juliana had plenty more meddling planned.
But for the very first time in her life, she found herself hoping Juliana's meddling would work.
Juliana would be smug beyond belief, of course, but it would save Corinna from having to reveal that Sean had posed for her, which would be totally worth putting up with a slew of smugness.
FORTY-NINE
AN EARL'S funeral bore little resemblance to the simple ceremonies performed by a country vicar like Sean's father. Lord Lincolnshire was to be buried in Westminster Abbey on Friday, and Sean had also arranged for a reception at Lincolnshire House afterward.
Getting everything in place took the better part of the day, and it was late afternoon by the time he trudged up the steps to the garret studio, hoping Corinna wasn't already waiting. A small part of him couldn't wait to see her, but most of him dreaded her arrival. He wanted a few minutes to prepare himself, to steel himself for what lay ahead.
He didn't have to do this, he knew. There were other, easier ways out. Soon the truth would be revealed, as Hamilton was due in town for the judging and would waste no time claiming his new title. Once that happened, society would make it clear to Corinna that Sean
