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Prologue

Bettina groaned and shook her head. “No, no, no! This is the wrong colour!”

“This is the colour you chose at the modiste and the yellow suits you very well,” Rachel reminded her sister gently, though narrowly avoided being struck on the side of the head as her sister flung out her arms and then proceeded to stamp her foot very hard indeed.

“It isnotthe right colour! And it is certainly not the one that I chose at the modiste,” Bettina declared, shooting Rachel a dark look. “Do not presume to tell me what it is that I have chosen and what I have done! I will not take kindly to it.”

Rachel bit her tongue, knowing full well that the consequences of shooting a sharp response back to her sister would be rather painful. Bettina was the eldest of the two sisters and had always been domineering and arrogant though news that they were both to come to London and both to make their come out at the same time had made her even more so. Her mother, who was less than interested in either of her daughters and was much more interested in her own friends and the like, cared very little for how Bettina behaved. Instead, she left them both to sort matters out themselves, which usually left Rachel in a very unfavorable position – but what could be done about it?

“Rachel!” Bettina’s sharp words forced Rachel’s attention back towards her. “Will you answer me when I speak to you?”

“I am not one of the servants, Bettina.” Making sure to keep her tone level – though she stepped back as she spoke to be out of the way of her sister’s hands – Rachel lifted her chin a little,determined not to cow to her sister. “I am not forced to respond simply because you demand it.”

Bettina’s blue eyes narrowed, her face flushing red. “You are – ”

“I am your sister and ought to be respected as such,” Rachel replied, firmly.

“You are not worthy of my respect!” Bettina declared, angrily. “I see how you roll your eyes at me, how you complain and how you protest thatIam much too difficult with my expectations and requirements. Do you think thatthisis how a sister ought to respond?”

Rachel’s jaw tightened, her hands clasping together in front of her as she battled her anger. “Bettina, I would not do or say such things if you showed any sort of gratitude or sweetness of nature,” she said, crisply. “I – ”

She was stopped short by her sister’s hand striking her hard across the face. Rachel stumbled back, one hand going to her cheek, shock mounting in her chest.

“Do notdareto speak to me like that!” Bettina screeched as Rachel rubbed hard at her cheek, tears coming into her eyes. “There is nothing wrong with my character, nothing lacking whatsoever! How could you think to say such things?”

Rachel opened her mouth to answer, only for there to come a scratch at the door. She called for the servant to enter at once, simply so that Bettina would be prevented from saying anything more. Her face stung still, her tears still threatening but she blinked them back furiously just as two maids came in.

“Your gown has arrived, Miss Grifford,” the first maid said, dropping down into a curtsy. “Here. Should you like to try it on now?”

Rachel nodded. “Please, take it to my own bedchamber,” she said, making for the door. “I will try it on there.”

“That is a much better colour than mine.”

Hearing the whine in Bettina’s voice, Rachel turned her head at once. “This was my choice,” she said, firmly, even though her face was still hot from her sister’s slap. “My gown is a gentle green to match my eyes. There is barely any colour to it, to be truthful, and – ”

“I want it.”

Rachel blinked rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”

“I do not want my gown. You shall wear mine and I shall wear yours.”

“No.” Aware that Bettina would, no doubt, fly into a temper, perhaps strike her again and then complain to their mother if Rachel did not do as she asked, Rachel continued to stand firm. “No, Bettina, we shall not switch gowns.”

“Yes, we shall.” Bettina hurried forward, reaching out for Rachel’s gown but Rachel quickly stepped in front of it, her gaze steady as she looked up at her sister who was half a head taller than she.

“It ismygown, Bettina.”

“But I do not like mine,” came the reply, “and therefore, I shall wear yours.”

Rachel stood firm. “No. The yellow will not suit me. My hair is dark and my eyes are green, it will make me look sallow. That is why I chose the light green. Your eyes are dark and your hair lighter than mine. It will not suit you.”

“I think I can make that judgement on my own,” came the sharp reply. “Now remove yourself from my way and do as I ask.”

Rachel held her sister’s gaze, feeling her heart pounding furiously as she saw the steel flickering there. Bettina was going to get the gown regardless of what she herself did or said but all the same, Rachel could not bring herself to simply step aside and let Bettina do as she pleased.

“This is my gown,” she said again, though with a good deal more firmness in her voice this time. “I will not step out of your way.”

Bettina let out a shriek of frustration and, grabbing Rachel, shoved her bodily aside before hurrying for the door. Rachel stumbled, her upset growing as she heard her sister calling for their mother. Lady Carmichael who, unfortunately, always sought peace over fairness, would do whatever Bettina wished, simply so as to keep her sister placated.