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CHAPTER ONE

WINIFRED

Winifred swore she would never step inside her mother’s residence again… three days later, she broke that vow.

Peering through the coach’s frosty window, Winifred addressed her sister. “You didn’t need to accompany me. I’m perfectly capable of retrieving a portrait from Miss Braddock’s home without assistance.”

“Nonsense,” Nora said, leaning around Winifred and wiping a gloved hand across the glass. “I don’t mind the cold, and with everyone absconding to the Duke of Beaufort’s house to prepare for the engagement celebration, I much prefer this lark to solitude.”

Everyone, meaning the Duke of Roxburghe.

Winifred pressed her lips together, hiding a smile, and glanced over. “Are you admitting the only opportunity I’m afforded to spend an afternoon with my sister depends upon the absence of her fiancé?”

“No!” A flash of scarlet whipped across Nora’s cheeks. “I would never turn you away.”

“I’m jesting,” Winifred replied, regretting her words.

After Winifred’s arrest last year, Nora fought to prove the charges false, enlisting the aid of the Duke of Roxburghe through a scandalous wager that ended in Nora’s engagement to the nobleman and Winifred’s freedom.

The coach slowed, then stopped at the fence line separating Miss Braddock’s rented property from their mother’s residence.

Without waiting for the driver’s assistance, Winifred opened the door and leaped from the cabin. She landed on the slick pavement, her shoes sliding on the ice. Waving her arms in wide circles, Winifred struggled to remain upright.

She failed.

Tumbling backward, she fell onto a filthy pile of rags abandoned beside the street.

“Ow!” The bundle of cloth shifted, pushed Winifred onto the ground, and rose onto its knees, revealing a gaunt, dirt-stained face.

Winifred’s eyes bulged. “Mother?”

“Winifred?” Mrs. Webb latched a skeletal hand onto Winifred’s fur-lined sleeve and dragged her daughter closer. “Have you come to assist me?”

“Help you?” Nora slammed the coach door, spun, and advanced on her stepmother. “After you falsely accused Winifred of theft and had her imprisoned?”

Tightening her grip on Winifred’s pelisse, their mother turned toward Nora and held out her free hand. “I made an error in judgment. Please forgive me.”

Nora’s eyes flicked down, and she folded her arms into her chest, taking one step away from her stepmother.

“I will never,” Nora whispered. “You are solely responsible for the tragedies that befell this family. You introduced Mr. Hollingsworth to Winifred. You encouraged the relationship. You paid him to seduce her, and then, when he refused to continue the ruse, you accused them of theft and had both arrested.”

Jerking Winifred from their mother’s grip, Nora placed her body between them, creating a formidable barricade of flesh. “As our mother, your role was to protect us from men like Mr. Hollingsworth, not arrange afternoon tea with them.”

Their mother tugged at a loose thread hanging from her tattered shawl. “Everything I did was to ensure your future happiness.”

Winifred reacted quicker than her sister, wrapping her arms around Nora’s waist and holding her in place.

“You swore,” Nora seethed, chest heaving, “that you wouldn’t present the evidence to free Winifred until my wedding day. How does that encourage happiness in either of us?”

Their mother recoiled. “My methods may have been unconventional, but the result was your engagement… to a duke, no less.”

“A connection that will offer you no benefit.” Dismissing her stepmother, Nora turned, her gaze finding Winifred. “Let us complete the task and be on our way.”

Winifred nodded once, looped her arm through Nora’s, and they strolled down the sidewalk, neither of them looking back.

“I’m destitute.” Their mother’s quiet admission caused them to pause. “Have you no compassion?”

Nora glanced over her shoulder. “That’s a lesson our mother neglected to instill in us.”