Unfortunately, London society was not overly interested in sisters aged twenty-four, twenty-three and nineteen no matter how lovely or accomplished they were. Still, Aunt Frances was determined to see at least one—if not all three girls—wed and did manage a few invitations, mostly for Katherine and Louise. Katherine had done her part by meeting and enchanting the brother of an earl, who reportedly had a significant income, even if he was not her first choice. Celia had no illusions about her older sister. Katherine was almost as clever as she was mercenary. She immediately realized she did not appeal to the earl and set her sights on his brother.

“I know I would never want to live anywhere else.” Aunt Guinevere paused. “Will Katherine and Henry be living in London after they’re wed?”

“I believe so. Henry and his brother manage the family business interests and Henry has a lovely house in Mayfair.”

It was at Henry’s house that Celia had discovered the gentleman she’d had a chance conversation with at a bookstore, the man she couldn’t get out of her head, was soon to be her brother-in-law. He had already asked for Katherine’s hand and had invited the rest of the family and his brother to join him for dinner. It was an evening of revelation in any number of ways.

For one thing—Henry Saunders wasn’t at all the type one would have thought would appeal to Katherine. He was handsome in a quiet sort of way but not the kind of man one read about in novels of romance or adventure. One did not swoon with immediate passion when meeting the calm, self-possessed Mr. Henry Saunders. He was obviously intelligent and scholarly and somewhat restrained, in contrast to his brother, who was brash and amusing and worldly.

Indeed, upon one’s first meeting one might have thought Henry entirely too somber, even cold in nature. Until one gazed into his brown eyes and saw compassion and intelligence and all manner of wicked amusement. And the oddest sort of recognition. As if he saw something in her no one else had ever seen. The moment he touched her hand, the strangest sense of awareness shot through her as if she had just met her fate. It was at once terrifying and exciting and utterly hopeless.

“He seems quite pleasant.”

Celia’s gaze shot to her aunt’s. “Who?”

“Why, Henry of course. Mr. Saunders.” Aunt Guinevere’s brow arched upward. “Were we speaking of someone else?”

“No, of course not. Sorry, my mind must have wandered.” Precisely as it had done since the moment she’d met Henry. She drew a deep breath in hopes of regaining some semblance of composure. “Henry is very nice and very clever and a man of honor.”

“Not the kind of man to go back on his word, then?”

Celia shook her head. “Good Lord, no.”

No, she thought sadly, Henry Saunders was not the type to rescind an offer of marriage even if he discovered his fiancée was petty and greedy and not an especially nice person. Even if he realized he was making a horrendous mistake.

Even if the look in his eyes when his gaze met his fiancée’s younger sister’s matched the feelings in that sister’s heart.

Henry was as fine a man as Celia had ever met and deserved better than Katherine. But, although Katherine, and Louise as well, had never considered Celia anything other than a mistake on their father’s part, Celia could not bring herself to tell Henry that Katherine’s interest was more in his family’s position and his fortune than it was in him. Family, after all, deserved one’s loyalty even if members of that family had done nothing to warrant it.

“One might say a moment of dishonor,” her aunt said slowly, “might be worth avoiding a lifetime of misery.”

Celia frowned. “What do you mean?”

Aunt Guinevere reached out and took Celia’s hand. “What I mean, my dear child, is that Henry Saunders gives every appearance of a man in love.”

“Not surprising.” Celia’s stomach lurched. “He is, after all, to be married in a week.”

“Celia dear—” Aunt Guinevere paused to gather her thoughts “—I have been married for more than twenty-three years and in love for longer than that. I have learned to recognize that feeling in other people. It’s really not hard if one pays attention. But few people do. Especially not in this house. Except perhaps for the earl.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Celia lied.

“I’m talking about the way Henry looks at you and the way you look at him.”

“Oh, well, that’s really not...”

“Even Poppy and Effie noticed. We discussed it right before I came to speak to you.”

Celia started to deny it but her aunt would never believe her. “It scarcely matters.” She drew a deep breath. “Regardless of how I feel about him, of how he might feel about me...it’s pointless. Surely you see that?”

“What I see is a man about to plunge into a lifetime with a woman I suspect he doesn’t even like.” Her brows drew together. “Has Katherine always been this—Oh, I don’t know what the word is. So many come to mind.”

Celia bit back a smile. “I’m afraid so.”

“And does she usually look at you as if there was something quite vile about you?”

Celia laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

Aunt Guinevere stared as if she’d just realized—or perhaps accepted—something quite awful. “I have done you a terrible disservice.” She shook her head. “I should have rescued you from that household years ago. Between those dreadful half sisters of yours and the frightful Miss Quince—can you ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Celia shrugged. “I was away at school most of the time. I’ve only resided at the abbey since I graduated. And Father isn’t so bad. Although it’s not especially gratifying to realize your father is not the cleverest man in the world.”

Aunt Guinevere choked back a laugh.

“Neither Katherine nor Louise has ever liked me, which bothered me a great deal when I was young but I had Mother then.” Celia paused. It had been seven years since her mother had died but there were moments when the grief was as fresh as if it had been yesterday. “After she died, I realized it was silly to continue to try to earn their affection, and besides, I didn’t like them, either. Aunt Frances, on the other hand, was never of any concern as she has always disliked everyone equally.” Celia grinned. “Except Father of course.”

“Even so—”

“Come now, Aunt Guinevere.” Celia pinned her with a firm look. “I am not ill-treated. I am not the heroine of some sad little fairy story. There is no need for you to feel the least bit sorry.”

“Very well, then, I won’t.” Her aunt paused. “But after the wedding, I want you to come live with me and Charles in London.”

“Live in London?” Celia’s breath caught.

“You did say you wished to live in London.”

“Someday perhaps but...” But why not now? “Very well.” She grinned. “There is nothing I would rather do.”

“Excellent.” Aunt Guinevere beamed. “Although I should warn you, it will frequently be just the two of us as Charles is always off on one exploration or another.”

“I know.” Celia considered the older woman. “I must say, I have always admired your independence.”

“I assure you, it often looks better from afar,” Aunt Guinevere said wryly. “And as much as I would miss the kind of freedom I have, I would sacrifice it without a moment’s hesitation to see more of my husband.”

“But you do so well alone.”

“I have friends, Celia. There is nothing better than friends. Unless of course it’s family.” She frowned. “Should I tell your father you’re coming to London or do you wish to?”

“Goodness, Aunt Guinevere, I’m nineteen years old, an adult fully capable of making my own decisions. I shall tell him. I daresay Father will be delighted at having one less female around.”

“Then that’s settled,” Aunt Guinevere said firmly. “Now then, we need to determine a way to stop this wedding.”

“Stop the wedding?” Celia stared.

“Of course.” The older woman nodded. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I...” Celia considered the question. She’d never been in love before but surely that was what this was. “Have you ever met someone and the very moment you looked into his eyes you knew that he was the one person in all the world for you? Knew without doubt or question as you had never known anything in your life before?”

“Once.”

“Then yes.” Celia shrugged helplessly. “Much to my dismay, I am in love with him.”

“And I would wager a great deal he is in love with you, as well. Which means we can’t possibly let poor, dear Henry marry Katherine. He’ll be miserable for the rest of his life and she will probably be fairly unhappy, as well. No, it’s best for all concerned that we find a way to stop this wedding.”

“Absolutely not.” Celia jumped to her feet, spurred as much by guilt as shock. Hadn’t the same thought occurred to her? “That would be wrong.” She paced. What was her aunt thinking? She swiveled toward the other woman. “The scandal would cast a shadow on everyone’s lives, including Henry’s and his brother’s.” She resumed pacing. “Regardless of how we feel about one another, Katherine is still my sister. I would hate to ruin her wedding, not to mention her life.”

“From what I’ve observed it’s fairly obvious her life, as well as his, will be ruined if they do marry. Barring death, marriage, my dear girl, is forever.”

“Henry will never go back on his word. It’s just not in his nature to do something like that. He’s far too honorable and kind and...” Her aunt was right. Henry and Katherine certainly weren’t in love. A bit of scandal versus an entire lifetime of unhappiness, well, it was something to consider. One might say it would be a favor to both of them to stop the wedding. Of course, Katherine would never see it that way. Still, wasn’t it Celia’s duty really to help her sister avoid spending the rest of her days in a loveless, ill-fated union? She paused in midstep. “How?”