at humor. "Marriage would be good for you, Phoebe. One of these days you really must settle down. I vow, I cannot comprehend how you can be content with your life. Always gadding about, chasing after those silly old books."
"Tell me truthfully, Meredith, do you not find Kilbourne a trifle cold? Whenever I am talking to him and happen to look straight into his eyes, I get the impression there is nothing of substance behind them. No warm emotion, if you take my meaning. I do not think he has any strong feeling for me at all."
"What an odd thing to say." Meredith frowned delicately. "I do not find him cold. It is merely that he is a very refined sort of gentleman. He displays a very nice sense of the proprieties. Your problem is that you have been reading far too many of those books you collect."
Phoebe smiled bleakly. "Do you think so?"
"Yes, I do. All that nonsense about chivalry and knights-errant dashing about slaying dragons to win their ladies cannot be good for your brain."
"Perhaps not. But it is amusing."
"It is not in the least amusing," Meredith declared. "Your fondness for old legends has not only made your imagination far too active, it has given you an unrealistic view of the married state."
"I do not think it unrealistic to want a marriage based on true love," Phoebe said quietly.
"Well, it is. Love comes after the wedding. Just look at Trowbridge and myself."
"Yes, I know," Phoebe agreed. "But I do not want to take such a risk. I want to be certain that I am being married for love and that I can return that love, before 1 commit myself to something as dreadfully permanent as marriage."
Meredith slanted her an exasperated glance. "You do not want to take the risk? That is rather humorous, coming from you. I know of no female who takes more risks than you do."
"I draw the line at a risky marriage," Phoebe said.
"Marriage to Kilbourne is not a risk."
"Meredith?"
"Yes?" Meredith set another stitch with exquisite precision.
"Do you ever think about that night you ran off with Gabriel Banner?"
Meredith gave a start. "Oh, dear. I have pricked my finger. Would you hand me a handkerchief, please? Quickly. I don't want to get blood on this dress."
Phoebe put down her teacup and got to her feet.
She handed her sister a linen handkerchief. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I am fine. What were you saying?" Meredith set aside her embroidery and wrapped the handkerchief around her finger.
"I asked if you ever thought about Gabriel Banner. He is now the Earl of Wylde, you know."
"I understood he has returned to England." Meredith picked up her tea and took a dainty swallow. "And to answer your question, I try very hard never to think of the appalling events of that night. What a little idiot I was."
"You wanted Gabriel to rescue you from marriage to Trowbridge." Phoebe sat down again and propped her feet back on the footstool. The skirts of her bright lime-green muslin gown flowed over her ankles. "I remember it all very well."
"You should," Meredith said dryly. "You not only encouraged me in my foolishness, you helped me knot the sheets I used to descend from my bedroom window."
"It was so exciting. When Gabriel raced off with you into the night, I thought it was the most romantic thing I had ever seen."
"It was a disaster," Meredith muttered. "Thank God Anthony discovered what had happened and came after us immediately. I vow, I have never been so glad to see our dear brother in my life as I was that night, although he was in a towering rage. I had come to my senses by the time we reached the outskirts of London, of course, but Gabriel was still intent on saving me from Trowbridge."
"Even though you had changed your mind?"
Meredith shook her head. "You would have to have known Gabriel to understand how difficult it was to deflect him from his chosen course of action. When I asked him to turn the carriage around and take me home, he thought I was merely succumbing to my own fears. I suppose I cannot
"Tell me truthfully, Meredith, do you not find Kilbourne a trifle cold? Whenever I am talking to him and happen to look straight into his eyes, I get the impression there is nothing of substance behind them. No warm emotion, if you take my meaning. I do not think he has any strong feeling for me at all."
"What an odd thing to say." Meredith frowned delicately. "I do not find him cold. It is merely that he is a very refined sort of gentleman. He displays a very nice sense of the proprieties. Your problem is that you have been reading far too many of those books you collect."
Phoebe smiled bleakly. "Do you think so?"
"Yes, I do. All that nonsense about chivalry and knights-errant dashing about slaying dragons to win their ladies cannot be good for your brain."
"Perhaps not. But it is amusing."
"It is not in the least amusing," Meredith declared. "Your fondness for old legends has not only made your imagination far too active, it has given you an unrealistic view of the married state."
"I do not think it unrealistic to want a marriage based on true love," Phoebe said quietly.
"Well, it is. Love comes after the wedding. Just look at Trowbridge and myself."
"Yes, I know," Phoebe agreed. "But I do not want to take such a risk. I want to be certain that I am being married for love and that I can return that love, before 1 commit myself to something as dreadfully permanent as marriage."
Meredith slanted her an exasperated glance. "You do not want to take the risk? That is rather humorous, coming from you. I know of no female who takes more risks than you do."
"I draw the line at a risky marriage," Phoebe said.
"Marriage to Kilbourne is not a risk."
"Meredith?"
"Yes?" Meredith set another stitch with exquisite precision.
"Do you ever think about that night you ran off with Gabriel Banner?"
Meredith gave a start. "Oh, dear. I have pricked my finger. Would you hand me a handkerchief, please? Quickly. I don't want to get blood on this dress."
Phoebe put down her teacup and got to her feet.
She handed her sister a linen handkerchief. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I am fine. What were you saying?" Meredith set aside her embroidery and wrapped the handkerchief around her finger.
"I asked if you ever thought about Gabriel Banner. He is now the Earl of Wylde, you know."
"I understood he has returned to England." Meredith picked up her tea and took a dainty swallow. "And to answer your question, I try very hard never to think of the appalling events of that night. What a little idiot I was."
"You wanted Gabriel to rescue you from marriage to Trowbridge." Phoebe sat down again and propped her feet back on the footstool. The skirts of her bright lime-green muslin gown flowed over her ankles. "I remember it all very well."
"You should," Meredith said dryly. "You not only encouraged me in my foolishness, you helped me knot the sheets I used to descend from my bedroom window."
"It was so exciting. When Gabriel raced off with you into the night, I thought it was the most romantic thing I had ever seen."
"It was a disaster," Meredith muttered. "Thank God Anthony discovered what had happened and came after us immediately. I vow, I have never been so glad to see our dear brother in my life as I was that night, although he was in a towering rage. I had come to my senses by the time we reached the outskirts of London, of course, but Gabriel was still intent on saving me from Trowbridge."
"Even though you had changed your mind?"
Meredith shook her head. "You would have to have known Gabriel to understand how difficult it was to deflect him from his chosen course of action. When I asked him to turn the carriage around and take me home, he thought I was merely succumbing to my own fears. I suppose I cannot
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