Such a long list, in fact, that Lily had begun to hope dear Thomas was speaking for himself rather for his titled cousin. She could not be certain if the brush of his hand against hers had been accidental, cousinly, or something more, but if she married Clonmere, she’d never find out.

“I’m sorry, Iris, but I am simply not cut out to be anybody’s duchess.”

She smoothed her fingers over the labels one last time and slipped from the room.

“MR. AMHERST WAS VERY CLEAR,” Hyacinth said, closing the parlor door quietly. “He told me, plainly that if Clonmere was looking for paragon, a lady whose company never failed to delight, the embodiment of womanly perfection, then he need look no further than me. Amherst considers himself well acquainted with Clonmere. I feared he was quoting the duke in fact.”

“Mr. Dersham has put much the same fear in me,” Holly whispered. “He said Clonmere would be a fool to choose any other woman, when I was surpassingly warm-hearted, exceedingly pretty, and tolerant of human foibles. I don’t even know what foibles are, but I know I do not want to wear that tiara.”

“Iris is the oldest,” Hyacinth said, picking up the box with her own name on it. “Papa should have found a spouse for her first.”

“Cousin Hattie says the same. We’re the youngest. Lily at least should marry before we do.”

“What if we’re wrong, Holl? What if Clonmere holds a secret tendresse for Iris? Or Lily?”

Holly lifted her box and shook it gently. “What sort of tendresse makes choosing a duchess a game of musical tiaras?”

“We have to do this, Holl.” Hyacinth began peeling the label on her box free. “I don’t want to be a duchess, and I’m sorry if it makes me a bad sister, but I don’t want you to be a duchess either—not Clonmere’s duchess.”

Holly passed her Lily’s box. “I think of the wedding night, all serious and ducal… what if he starts making love in French? I’d probably respond with something like, ‘Pass me the potatoes, my dear water buffalo.’”

“He’s not that big.” Hyacinth gently worked Lily’s label loose.

“He’s too big for me. Iris and Lily are both taller than we are. Duchesses should be tall.”

They worked in careful silence, until they’d switched their labels for Iris’s and Lily’s.

“We must swear,” Holly said, putting the boxes back in the order they’d found them.

“To the grave,” Hyacinth replied. “Never a word, not even to Lily, Hattie, or Iris.”

“I might tell Mr. Amherst,” Holly said. “But not until I’ve presented him with an heir, though I can’t become Mrs. Amherst if Clonmere flings his tiara at me.”

“Nor can I become Mrs. Dersham. We had to do this, Holl.”

“Lily or Iris will thank us for this, or she would, if she knew we’d done it.”

“Which she won’t. Ever.”

IRIS HADN’T SLEPT, she hadn’t eaten, she’d barely gulped down a cup of tea in the oddly silent breakfast parlor. She remained standing while Lily, Holly, and Hyacinth—all in lovely outfits—took the chairs in the family parlor.

“It’s after breakfast,” Lily said.

“We didn’t eat breakfast,” Holly replied. “Who could eat breakfast with this awaiting them?”

Holly rose and went to the window. “That’s His Grace’s coach. He couldn’t walk five streets on a pretty morning to pay a call, he had to make a grand show. I already hate this day.”

“He’s being impressive, the better to keep Falmouth in line,” Iris said, joining her at the window. Impressive was an understatement. Clonmere’s coach was pulled by four handsome greys, two liveried footmen rode on the boot, and a groom was up beside the coachman.

“I don’t want to be a duchess,” Lily muttered. “How can I impress that sentiment on our daft papa?”

“His Grace brought reinforcements,” Holly said.

Hyacinth took the place to Holly’s left. “Is all of London to know we drew lots for a tiara? That hardly seems dignified.”

“That’s Mr. Dersham,” Iris observed, “and Mr. Amhearst, and Mr. Everhart.” Their presence made no sense, and yet, they reassured Iris that Clonmere was up to something.

“They make a dashing foursome,” Lily said, peering over Hyacinth’s shoulder. “But why are they here?”

Cousin Hattie bustled in the door. “Away from the window, my dears. You don’t want the gentlemen to think you’re gawking. Iris, is that the oldest, plainest dress you could find? Honestly, what were you thinking? You’re to be courted by a duke today, see if you aren’t.”

Oh, if only… “I’ve only been introduced to Clonmere’s mama once,” Iris said. “I doubt she’d choose me for his duchess.”

“She’d better not have chosen me,” Holly murmured. “I have plans that do not include being dignified and speaking French.”

“My plans don’t include the laments and airs of any Scottish farmers.” Lily resumed her seat. “Did somebody move these boxes? I was certain mine was sitting closer to the blotter.”

The four boxes, looking as pretty as ever, sat on the desk in the same order they had the previous evening.

“Mine is still closest to the window,” Iris said, though Lily was right. Holly’s box had been to the right of the blotter, not sitting half on the blotter.

Masculine voices floated up from the foyer, and Iris’s tea threatened to make a reappearance. “I hate this.”

“I do too,” Lily said. “If the tiara is in my box, I’m giving it to you, Iris.”

“So am I,” Holly and Hyacinth said in unison.

“You’ll make a much better duchess than we would,” Lily said, “and Clonmere will grow on you, Iris. You like a challenge, and he’s… challenging.”

“He is,” Holly said, regarding the boxes. “Look at his notion of how to choose a duchess. He needs you, Iris.”

“But Falmouth…”

“Papa can’t disown all four of us,” Hyacinth said. “Or he can, but we won’t disown each other, and Peter won’t disown us once he runs out of his quarterly allowance. Benjamin is too young to disown anybody.”

Iris considered her box, the one sitting farthest to the left. “I love you all very much, and to be honest, I fancy His Grace. He’s honorable and kind, he loves his family, and he can lift carriages when carriages need lifting.” He also kissed like a dream come to life.

“A fine quality in a man,” Cousin Hattie said, “but do you young ladies honestly think you can refuse a duke?”

Iris waited for a resounding, reassuring affirmative chorus and instead beheld uncertain glances.

The earl strode in, Clonmere, Everhart, Dersham, and Amherst on his heels. Clonmere was very much on his dignity, while the other three were looking uncharacteristically serious.

“Ladies,” Clonmere said, bowing. The other men did as well, while Falmouth took the seat behind the desk.

“His Grace has made a request,” Falmouth said. “I’m not inclined to grant it. He wants these boxes opened in order of age, oldest to youngest.”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Everhart said. “Ladies usually do marry in order of age, my lord.”

“My sisters did,” Amherst did.

“Mine too,” Dersham added. “Meaning no disrespect, my lord, but Clonmere’s honoring a vague wish expressed in some old letter his pater sent you, likely before Lady Holly or Lady Hyacinth were even born, and yet he’s done the pretty with them both.”

“True enough,” Amherst said. “I read law. If you only had the two daughters at the time the letter was sent, then common sense suggests only the oldest two daughters—”