An Earl for the Wrong Sister (Preview)

Chapter One

The ball was in full swing, and Miss Laura Templeton was having a surprisingly good time. Usually, she was not one for large social events where she had to interact and make conversation with acquaintances whose names she could barely remember. But this soiree, a ball held by the Marquess and Marchioness of Clifden, was the most beautiful she had ever attended, with white and pink flowers decorating all the chandeliers above the dance floor, sculptures of nymphs and dyads all along the edges of the room, and pink wine with strawberries in it.

She had, perhaps, had too many of these pink wines, which her friend Matilda had told her had been imported from France. And as she took another sip of hers, she felt happier and freer than she usually did.

Perhaps it was because Benedict Cooke, the Earl of Rosemont was standing near her, and his eyes kept sliding to hers.

She did not know Lord Rosemont well. Although she had seen him dancing with her sister before, and once or twice he had stopped by the house, they had never been introduced. Every time she had seen him, she had thought him to be the most exceptionally handsome man of her acquaintance. Now, in his elegant black jacket, his pinstriped waistcoat, and perfectly starched cravat, he looked the pinnacle of elegance. He was very tall, towering over the heads of all those around, with dark hair and honey-coloured eyes that she could not help meeting as he glanced again at her.

She turned away for a moment to take one last, large sip of wine, set the glass down on the tray of a passing footman, and turned back towards the earl.

To her shock, he was standing right in front of her, his eyes alight as he stared down at her.

“It is Miss Templeton, is it not?” he said, taking her hand and bowing before her.

“Y-yes,” Laura stammered, her heart leaping into her throat.

“You are Miss Amelia Templeton’s sister,” he said.

“Yes, I am.” She did not know if she liked being known by her relation to her sister, but if that were how he was placing her, she would have to accept it. “And you are the Earl of Rosemont,” she said after a moment, smiling shyly up at him.

“Yes,” he said with a deep laugh. “I am surprised we have not been introduced. Would you care to dance?”

“I–” Laura was at a loss for what to say. Although she knew she was not ugly, she was not the beauty in her family. That had always been reserved for her sister. And the fact she was so shy and did not always like to make conversation at balls meant she was rarely taken to the floor. But now, the handsome Earl of Rosemont was standing in front of her, his hand holding hers, asking her to dance.

She untied her tongue as quickly as she could.

“I would be honoured, My Lord,” she murmured.

The earl smiled and led her out to the dance floor, where the music was just changing to become a quadrille. Laura felt light as a feather as she curtsied to the earl and then let the music carry her into the opening steps. It all felt like a dream she was having.

“How are you enjoying your evening?” the earl asked when they met again.

“Oh, I am enjoying it very much,” Laura said. And then, because she was a little bit tipsy from the wine – her mother, acting as both her and her sister’s chaperone, had not been paying close attention to Laura, as was usual – and the giddiness of dancing with the earl, she added, “I do not always enjoy such events, so I am surprised by my enjoyment of this one.”

The earl looked at her curiously. He was probably not used to young ladies speaking so forthrightly, and she flushed.

“Why do you not usually enjoy such evenings?” he asked.

In any other circumstance, Laura might have held her tongue or changed the subject. But she could not quite believe that the earl was asking her such a personal question about herself, and she answered honestly.

“I find the pretence of London Society to be quite exhausting,” she said. “I long for genuine conversations and authentic connection, but I find that in Society, one must often confine one’s conversation to such banal topics as the weather, or gossip about the rest of the ton‘s behaviour, both of which I find dull and insincere. Most interactions amongst our set feel like an elaborate performance, especially for a young lady, who must constantly be on the lookout to ensnare a husband.”

As she said this, she was thinking of Amelia, who seemed even more determined than the marriage-minded mamas to find herself a rich, titled husband. They were not exactly poor and untitled, of course. The Templetons had a barony, and their father, Silas Templeton, was a respected baron. But Amelia seemed to think that was not good enough for her, and she was constantly on the lookout for a husband to elevate her status. Because of this, Laura got the impression that she was always performing.

Laura had expected the earl to show curiosity and interest in her statements, but to her surprise, he gave her a small, patronizing smile, his eyes no longer warm and sparkling.

“It is very important to maintain proper appearances and social order,” he said. “When the members of the ton are ‘performing’ social graces, as you accuse them of, what they are really doing is maintaining the tradition of our class and our set of values. Perhaps that is not apparent to someone who is more limited in their social experience, but it is very important to the most pedigreed of the ton.”

Laura was so shocked by the earl’s words that she almost lost her footing and went flying into the gentleman next to her. Thankfully, she managed to keep her wits about her as she stared up at him.

“Must social order be maintained?” she countered, surprising herself with the force of her opinions. She was not usually one to state her thoughts so plainly, but the earl’s condescension had rankled her. “The social order is one in which the wealth of this country is concentrated at the very top, while orphans are forced to live in squalor, and even the veterans of the Napoleonic wars can often not find shelter.”

The earl’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, he looked intrigued, but then a careful, bored look replaced this, and he smiled pityingly.

“I do not think we should discuss politics,” he said, and his eyes wandered away from her and out over the ballroom. She felt herself flush. For some reason, she got the distinct impression that he was looking for someone else – a more worthy dancing partner, no doubt.

“I did not mean to offend–” she began, but before she could finish the sentence, the dance came to an end, and the earl bowed to her without even making eye contact.

“Ahh, I see that your sister is here,” he said, the sides of his mouth twitching up, and Laura turned, surprised, to see her sister standing on the edge of the dance floor, talking animatedly to several other gentlemen.

Laura’s heart sank. Amelia looked radiant, just like she always did. Her blonde curls had been swept up in a loose, French-looking coiffure, and strands of curls were falling around her long, elegant neck in a way that drew a man’s eye to her decolletage. She was pale and slim, with sparkling blue eyes; in other words, she was the picture of perfection.

“Please excuse me,” she heard the earl say, and she turned to see that his eyes were fixed on her sister. His smile had also returned. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Templeton.”

But he did not even look at her as he bowed and strode away across the dance floor, leaving her all alone and feeling more exposed and unattractive than she ever had in her life.

How had this ever seemed like a wonderful ball? She could not remember, and as her eyes burned with tears of humiliation, she stepped quickly away from the dance floor. She did not want to dance now, even if the most eligible gentleman in the room had asked. Which he just had. Before snubbing her because she dared to show an opinion that was not in line with the values of the ton.

That, and because he wants to speak to Amelia, she thought bitterly. He was probably just using me to make Amelia jealous.

Well, if that were true, he was gravely mistaken in thinking that one dance with her would make Amelia jealous. Amelia had never been jealous of Laura, not for a day in her life. She barely even seemed to take note of her younger sister most days. She was too busy trying to find the most handsome, titled man possible.

And now, as she turned to see the Earl of Rosemont approaching her, she seemed to have found him. Just as the earl neared her, she pretended to stumble, lurching towards him while still, somehow, maintaining her elegance.

Laura had seen this move before. Amelia had used it on several other gentlemen whom she had hoped would propose. And the earl fell for it. He rushed forward at once and caught Amelia, who had not actually been in danger of falling, his arm encircling her to protect her from crashing to the floor. And from where Laura was watching, she could see her sister’s eyes fill with adoration as she gazed up at the earl in gratitude.

Laura couldn’t see the earl’s face, but if she had to guess, it was similarly enamoured.

That is what men are always like, she thought dully. Enamoured by delicate beauty and helpless charm.

She sighed and turned away to find another glass of pink wine. It was her own fault, she supposed, for bringing up political issues during the quadrille. She ought to take a leaf out of her sister’s book and stick to stumbling tricks.

***

Later, when it was finally time to go home, Laura was feeling a headache as she clambered into the carriage behind her sister and mother. The moment the carriage doors were closed, Amelia leaned forward and took Laura’s hand.

“Oh, Laura, you cannot believe what has happened!” she gushed, her eyes sparkling. “The Earl of Rosemont has proposed to me!”

Laura, who had not been expecting this, gaped at her sister. “He proposed?” she repeated faintly. “But … he hardly knows you!”

“We have danced together at several balls,” Amelia said pompously, “and he has visited the house several times! Mama, is this not wonderful news!”

“Yes, it is wonderful,” Baroness Templeton said, although she looked as surprised as Laura felt. “Although of course, he will need to talk to your father …”

“Oh, Papa will not object!” Amelia said dismissively. “He is the Earl of Rosemont! The most eligible bachelor of the Season! And he says he is fascinated and enamoured by me.”

“And you?” Laura asked. “Are you fascinated by him? What do you even know about him?”

“Plenty,” Laura said. “He has always confided several important details of his life to me.” She looked imperiously at Laura, as if daring her to ask what these were, but Laura did not take the bait. “Do not you think him wonderful, too, sister?” she pressed after a moment. “The most charming man imaginable? He danced with you before, did he not? I had asked him to do so, to win you over.”

“I do not know,” Laura said. “I found him a bit shallow and arrogant … Only caring about surface beauty and social status.”

“Oh, you are such a spoilsport,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes. “But you will not spoil this for me. I am to be married! To an earl! I will become a countess!”

She could not stop talking for the rest of the ride home. Laura, meanwhile, pressed her head against the cool carriage window and longed for bed and an end to this night. She was happy for her sister, she supposed. She and the earl seemed to be made for each other. But if it were her, Laura, engaged to the earl, she would not be happy. There was another kind of man somewhere that she longed to marry: a good, kind, decent man, who cared about the betterment of Society. She just hoped he was looking for her, as well.

Chapter Two

“So you are to be married?” Benedict’s best friend, Aaron Bowles, asked, not bothering to keep the astonishment from his voice. “I can hardly believe it.”

“Well, you will have to try,” Benedict said, grinning at his friend as he raised a glass of wine to his lips. “Because it is true. And if everything goes according to plan, the wedding should take place within the next three weeks.”

Aaron shook his head and also took a sip of wine. “Well then, I suppose I should congratulate you. Miss Templeton is very … beautiful.”

“She is very beautiful,” Benedict agreed, and an image of how Miss Amelia Templeton had looked the night before flashed through his mind. She had been so lovely, and so innocent, so in need of rescuing, that he had felt his heart go out to her in a way he had not been expecting. “And I believe she will make me a good wife. She is a very humble, gracious young lady.”

“Humble? Gracious?” Aaron nearly spit out some of his wine as he stared at Benedict in awe. “Surely we are not talking about the same Miss Templeton …”

Benedict frowned at his friend. He wished he would lower his voice when speaking that way about his fiancée. They were at the Wights’ garden party, and there were many people around who would love any chance to report gossip to one of the ton‘s many gossip rags.

“Yes, she is very humble and gracious,” Benedict said, his irritation flaring. “She is one of those women who does not know how beautiful she is.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows but said nothing, contenting himself instead to take another large sip of wine.

“You do not think so?” Benedict asked after a moment, unable to contain his curiosity.

Aaron lowered his wine glass thoughtfully. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

“I think Miss Templeton is no different from many young ladies of the ton in that she is ambitious. She hopes to marry a wealthy, titled man, and to elevate her position in this life.”

“And what is wrong with that?” Benedict asked. “Why should a beautiful, intelligent young woman not aim for the highest, best match? And am I not that?”

“You are,” Aaron agreed. “I just hope her feelings for you are genuine.”

“They are,” Benedict said, hoping that the firmness of his tone disguised the small flicker of doubt and disappointment that chose that moment to appear in his chest. “In fact,” he added with determination, “I shared with her the secret that I tell no one, and she was very generous in her reaction. She completely accepted the truth without judgement or censure.”

Aaron’s eyebrows were now raised so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. “I am surprised to hear that,” he said. “If she were to tell someone …”

“She will not,” Benedict said confidently. He was sure that Miss Amelia would tell no one, and yet, he didn’t like the way Aaron was looking at him. It made him wonder if he had been right to tell her. Aaron was right, after all. If she were to tell someone, his life would be ruined …

Aaron’s brow furrowed, and he looked as if he were trying not to argue. “Well then, he finally said. “She must be a truly gracious young woman who holds you in high regard.”

“Thank you, Aaron,” Benedict said quietly. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he had needed to hear his friend say that. “I know the engagement was sudden, but I was struck by a feeling of sureness, and of wanting to settle down, and of feeling as if I am ready to no longer wonder what the future has in store for me. I do hope that you approve.”

“Of course I do,” Aaron said with a kind smile. “Many congratulations, my friend.”

They clinked their glasses together, then Benedict turned and scanned the crowd. He had invited Miss Templeton to the garden party today to introduce her to Aaron, and he was eager for her arrival.

In fact, his heart lightened as he glimpsed her among the crowd of people, looking around as if trying to find him as well, her arm linked with –

Benedict’s heart sank at once as his fiancée’s companion came into view. It was Miss Amelia’s younger sister, Miss Laura Templeton, whom he had danced with the night before. The unpleasant young woman who seemed to find fault in everything – or at least, that’s how her sister had described her. And in their brief interaction, he had found this description to be very apt.

Nevertheless, he fixed a smile to his face and waved the Miss Templetons over. Miss Amelia was smiling serenely as she walked over to them, but her sister had a sullen expression that immediately put Benedict on edge.

“Lord Rosemont,” Miss Amelia said, curtsying low and then fluttering her eyelashes as she looked up at Benedict. “How do you do today?”

“Lovely, now that you are in my presence,” Benedict said, taking her hand and kissing it. She flushed prettily, and Benedict’s heart hammered. She really was very beautiful. “May I introduce Mr Aaron Bowles, a dear friend of mine? Aaron, this is Miss Amelia Templeton and her sister, Miss Laura Templeton.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Aaron said, bowing to both ladies. “Although, Miss Laura, I believe we have met before. Or at least, I saw you at the recent charity fundraiser for London’s metropolitan orphanages. You were in attendance, were you not?”

“I was indeed,” Miss Laura said, looking surprised and pleased by Aaron’s words. “I am very sorry; I did not see you there. I was so taken up by the debate that I believe I forgot the name of everyone I met.”

“You attended a charity fundraiser?” Miss Amelia asked her sister, a shocked look on her face. “Do Mother and Father know?”

Miss Laura blushed and looked down at her feet. “I did not … tell them,” she said after a moment. She looked back up quickly. “But my maid was with me! I was not unaccompanied.”

“Your maid?” Miss Amelia repeated, and Benedict was unsurprised to see her flush with anger. He understood why. A young, unmarried lady attending such an event with only a maid could have plunged her into scandal. And scandal like that would have reflected badly on Miss Amelia, as well. It could have hurt her marriage prospects. “What were you thinking?”

Miss Amelia turned to Benedict, a pleading look in her eyes. “I must assure you, My Lord, that I had no idea my sister was behaving in such a reckless way. I assure you, I will put an end to such scandalous escapades.”

Before Benedict could respond, however, that he did not see this as a reflection on her at all, the younger Miss Templeton piped up.

“You will certainly not stop me from attending the charity fundraisers!” she cried. “It is vital that I be there to show my support. Not enough of the ton is supporting the orphanages as it is. It is a disgrace, really. The charities are essential, but they are still superficial gestures if not enough people are contributing. What the orphanages really need is strong, decisive action from those with real power.”

Miss Laura’s eyes had lit up while she was speaking, and her pale face had flushed with colour – although not with embarrassment, as far as Benedict could tell. In fact, she looked almost beautiful when she spoke like this, clearly impassioned on her subject. Not as beautiful as her sister, of course … Where Miss Amelia’s hair was golden, Miss Laura’s was chestnut brown, and where Miss Amelia’s eyes were a deep, unforgettable blue, Miss Laura’s were brown … although surprisingly warm. And her features were very delicate, just like her sister’s, and when animated like this, not unpleasing. It was easy to see why she was dismissed, especially when compared to her sister. The fact that she was dressed in a modest, muted gown, while Miss Amelia was in a stunning lavender chiffon dress, also contributed to the unfavourable comparison. But really, she was quite handsome on her own …

However, when Benedict glanced at Miss Amelia, he immediately felt guilty for his flattering thoughts about her sister. Miss Amelia looked horrified, and he could not blame her. Miss Laura’s words – not to mention her actions – bordered on the blasphemous and could endanger Miss Amelia’s social standing if overheard by the wrong people.

Perhaps it was this that made him snap, “Perhaps such charitable events require practical considerations and social cooperation that perhaps someone with limited experience in organizing such endeavours might not fully appreciate.” He felt oddly angry and defensive, as if he had to protect Miss Amelia from her sister’s outlandish remarks. He smiled condescendingly at Miss Laura as she turned to glare at him. “Your idealism is commendable, Miss Templeton, but also, I am afraid, naive.”

But to his chagrin, his words did nothing to cool Miss Laura’s ire. Her eyes narrowed, and she snarled, “Or perhaps those in positions of privilege are too comfortable to recognize when their efforts fall short of meaningful change.”

“Those in positions of privilege are the ones with the most opportunities to show compassion,” he retorted. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aaron and Miss Amelia exchanging alarmed looks with one another, but he could not stop himself from speaking. Miss Laura irritated him in a way few people did, and he could not let her get the last word in.

“True compassion requires more than simply attending elegant fundraising events,” she fired back. “It requires meaningful change and meaningful interaction with those who most need that compassion. When was the last time you even spoke to an orphan?”

She had hit a nerve. Benedict felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. All the air left him, and it took all his willpower not to sway on the spot.

Even Miss Laura seemed to have realized she had gone too far. Her eyes were wide and her face pale as Benedict drew himself up to his full height and glared down at her with a look of such utter disdain that he was sure she wanted to melt into the floor with embarrassment.

“I will not countenance this conversation any longer,” he hissed. “Nor will I have my compassion for those less fortunate than me questioned by an upstart young lady who has never even lived in the world.”

He turned to Miss Amelia and bowed low. “I do beg your apologies, Miss Templeton, but I must retire for the afternoon. I hope that I can call on you tomorrow and that we can begin to plan our upcoming nuptials. There is nothing I am looking forward to more and no one I am more eager to spend more time with.”

“Of course,” Miss Amelia said, curtsying quickly, her eyes searching as they swept over him. “I am the one who must beg your forgiveness,” she added in a low voice as he bent to kiss her hand. “I should not have brought my sister with me.”

“Soon it will be just the two of us,” he murmured back. Then he straightened, turned, and strode away, Aaron hurrying after him. He would not suffer another moment in Miss Laura’s company, and the sooner this wedding was over, and he never had to see her again, the better.

Chapter Three

Laura could not sleep.

The last weeks had been the most hectic of her life. Preparing for Amelia’s wedding had taken over their entire household. There was not a single person living there, from their mother, the baroness, to the lowliest scullery maid, whose entire existence had not become about readying Amelia to wed the earl.

Laura could not help feeling that it was all a bit overkill. The earl was, well, an earl, but it wasn’t as if he were God. In fact, she found him to be one of the most insufferable men of her acquaintance, and she didn’t like how her father and mother were bending over backwards to prove that their family was good enough to join his illustrious ranks.

Nor did Laura particularly like what it was doing to Amelia. Her older sister had always been vain and obsessed with finding a rich, titled husband. But in the past few weeks, her vanity and her self-importance had reached new levels. It had come to the point where Laura was actually glad her sister would shortly be marrying and leaving their house, as she was not sure she could stand another day living with her.

She will be someone else’s problem soon, she thought, then instantly felt regret at her words. Amelia was still her sister, and however much they were not getting along these days, she did still love her. She would miss her, too, in a way.

When they were young, Laura and Amelia had got along very well. Amelia had always been prettier, but when they were children, this had not been used against Laura. In fact, her sister would call her into her room every night and brush her hair with the silver brush that had once belonged to their grandmother. Amelia would then entertain her with stories about how they would both marry handsome fairy princes and go off to live in the lands of the fairies.

It was only once they had reached their teenage years, and the prospect of debuting and having to find husbands had become a reality and not just a game they played, that Amelia had begun to change. She had become preoccupied with her looks and would spend many hours studying the miniatures of all the richest peers in the land, even the old and ugly ones.

The attention from gentlemen had done it, if you asked Laura. It had turned Amelia from a sweet, kind girl who liked to be pretty into a vain, ambitious fortune-hunter. And as much as Laura was sometimes jealous of her sister’s good looks, she was also grateful to have been spared them.

Not being the ‘beautiful’ one had forced Laura to develop other interests, other hobbies. She had spent so much time alone as a teenager – her sister preferring her more marriage-interested friends to Laura – that she had taken to reading philosophical treatises, radical pamphlets, and newspapers. That was how her interest in good works and reform politics had begun. And although few people in the ton seemed to appreciate this about her, Laura liked the opinions she had cultivated for herself. It felt exciting and daring to be interested in a world outside of the ton. She was seized by wonder at all there was to discover and hoped that someday, she would be able to travel and make a real difference.

For now, however, she was determined to keep her mouth shut. Things had been ugly after her last argument with Lord Rosemont. Amelia had been livid and had even threatened to tell their parents that Laura had been sneaking off to charitable fundraisers. In the end, she had agreed not to tell, but only if Laura did not engage with the earl on any other ‘controversial’ topics.

Laura had kept her mouth shut and had dutifully supported her sister for the past three weeks.

The strange thing was, no matter how supportive Laura was, and no matter how much the household catered to her every whim to make her wedding perfect, Amelia had only seemed to grow more ill-tempered with every passing day. It was as if the closer she got to her wedding day, the more angry, vindictive, and mean she became.

Laura reflected on the evening before. Amelia had been in the foulest temper, and during dinner, when one of the footmen had dared to dribble the smallest portion of wine onto her napkin, she screamed at him and then threw her plate of food across the table, nearly hitting Laura and sending food flying everywhere.

Their mother and father had been beside themselves. The baron had thundered at his eldest daughter to go to her room, threatening to call off the wedding if she did not behave herself – an empty threat, which they all knew – while the baroness had burst into tears. Laura, meanwhile, had sat there in shock, unable to understand it.

Amelia is finally getting everything she has ever wanted, were her thoughts as she stared at the splattered food on the table. Why is she behaving as if she is being condemned to the gallows?

It made no sense. When her mother had come to visit her later, the baroness had tried to explain Amelia’s behaviour away as pre-wedding jitters.

“She is just nervous to become a wife and a countess,” the baroness had said as she brushed Laura’s hair. “She will be calmer once she has settled into her new role.”

But Laura wasn’t so sure. Her sister should have been revelling in her triumph, gloating to them all about her good fortune, and claiming she would be the greatest countess of all time. It was out of character for her to be nervous and ill-tempered because she had finally achieved her greatest ambition.

Downstairs in the front hall, Laura heard the grandfather clock strike one in the morning. She turned over and closed her eyes, determined to try to sleep.

Just then, however, she heard voices next door – from her sister’s room.

The first voice was her sister’s. Laura recognized it at once. Her sister was saying something, too low for Laura to hear, but loud enough that she could make out the intonation through the wall that adjoined their bedrooms. And the tone was fearful – perhaps even angry. The second voice, which immediately spoke over her sister, was unfamiliar to Laura. And, more shockingly, it belonged to a man.

Laura sat bolt upright in bed. A man! There is a man in my sister’s bedchamber!

Her first thought was that it must be a servant. But why would a male servant be going into Amelia’s room in the middle of the night? Her next thought was that it was their father – but again, she would have recognized it. A jolt of fear went through her – could it be the earl, coming to lay claim to his wife?

But that made no sense. The earl would not risk the ruination of his bride by doing such a thing. Anyway, surely he could have patience. The wedding was in just a few days’ time.

Laura tried not to breathe, listening hard. For a few moments, no sound came from next door, and she wondered if she might have been drifting off without realizing it and had dreamt up the voices.

Then, out of the dark silence, came the unmistakable sound of her sister’s high-pitched, shrill scream. Seconds later, there was a crash as something fell to the ground, then her sister’s scream was muffled, followed by the curt, angry voice of a man. Laura strained her ears to try to hear what he was saying, but she couldn’t make it out. Her heart was in her throat. A pounding sound filled her ears. Sweat had sprouted on her palms and under her arms.

Something was happening to Amelia. Something bad. And she, Laura, needed to save her.

From somewhere deep in the reserves of Laura’s strength, she summoned all her courage. Banging sounds were now coming from her sister’s room as if she were in some kind of tussle. Laura threw back the covers and sprang to her feet. She looked wildly around, trying to find something that she might use as a weapon, and her eyes fell on her letter opener, which she had left out on her desk yesterday after she had been answering her correspondence. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

Dashing over to the desk, she grabbed the letter opener, then hurried to the door. As quietly as she could, she cracked it open and peered tentatively out into the corridor.

It was deserted. However, as she swivelled her head around to see her sister’s door, she saw that it was ajar.

Laura’s hand tightened on the letter opener. No more sounds were coming from her sister’s room, but that didn’t mean the assailant – or whoever it was – wasn’t still there. She pushed open the door and crept as swiftly and quietly as she could to her sister’s bedchamber door. Slowly, she pulled it open a little wider and looked inside.

It was dark in the bedchamber. Too dark to make out if her sister – or anyone else – was in there.

She took a deep, steadying breath, then threw open the door and leapt inside.

“Unhand my sister!” she shouted, flailing her arms around as she brandished the letter opener through the air with a swish. “Let her go!”

But no one answered her, and as Laura’s eyes became adjusted to the darkness, she realized that no one was there. The room was empty.

It was not, however, spotless. And as Laura stared around, she felt a creeping unease go up her spine.

The room looked as if it had been ransacked. There were clothes everywhere, shoes and jewellery thrown this way and that, books scattered across the floor. The linens had been ripped from the bed, and several of the curtains around the four-poster bed had been torn down. They lay limply on the floor.

Laura took a step back as horror filled her. There had been some kind of struggle, that much was clear. And now Amelia was gone.

“Help!” she cried, although her voice was still far too soft for anyone to hear her. She was in shock. “Help!” she tried again, raising her voice. “Someone help! Amelia is missing! Help! Help!”

Her voice echoed throughout the room, and, moments later, she heard a door slam, then footsteps hurrying along the corridor.

“Laura? Are you well?” she heard her mother ask sleepily from the doorway. “What are you doing in Amelia’s room?”

She stepped into the room, rubbing her eyes from tiredness. For a second or two, she stared around at everything – the overturned candelabras, the piles of books, the clothes strewn everywhere –nonplussed. Then her eyes widened, and she began to scream. “Silas! Silas! Come quick! Amelia is gone!”

Within minutes, the whole house had been woken and was in an uproar. Laura’s mother was beside herself, and a maid had to be sent to fetch her smelling salts, after which the baroness collapsed on her eldest daughter’s bed, sobbing. Silas Templeton was shouting furiously at the footmen, sending them out after his runaway daughter (Laura had not mentioned the male voice in case it reflected poorly on her sister’s reputation) and then pacing back and forth down the corridor, his hands shaking and his eyes wild. Laura was completely numb. She couldn’t believe this had happened. Who would have taken Amelia? And why? Worst of all, she felt it was her fault. If only she had reacted sooner, maybe she could have stopped – or at least seen – who had been in Amelia’s room.

You couldn’t have fought him off, though, she told herself. Maybe he just would have taken you, as well. The thought made her shudder in horror.

Laura, her mother, and her father didn’t sleep a wink that night. They stayed up, waiting to see if any of the footmen would return having found Amelia. But at dawn, they were all back, and none had been able to find any trace of her – although one had found the marks of carriage wheels in the ground below Amelia’s window.

Nor had Laura found any clues after she had searched her sister’s room and tried to put her things back in their place. The only thing odd she had discovered was that her sister’s ivory brush and mirror set – the ones she used obsessively every night at her dressing table – were gone. She never went anywhere without these in her reticule, and it seemed odd to Laura that in the heat of the moment, when Amelia’s things were being scattered everywhere, she had managed to convince her kidnapper to let her take her most prized possessions with her.