Page 26 of The Duke's Daring Bride

“Amanda is ten months older than me. Which is galling. You would think our parents could keep their hands off one another. Poor Mother.”

“No, dear, what is galling is the fact they named us as if we were twins. Amanda and Amelia. Honestly.”

Clearly the pair of them had had this complaint before, because Amelia nodded firmly and turned to Olivia. “You know, when you are reading a book, and the author has the unmitigated gall to give two characters similar names? Godfrey and Geoffrey?”

“Or Ellan and Ethan,” her sister interrupted. “And you groan and think What kind of idiot author would name two characters so similarly?”

Amelia nodded. “Well, how would you like to be those two characters? No one can keep us straight! Not even Mother.”

“Especially not the reader,” murmured Olivia.

“What?”

Shaking her head, Olivia dropped the bloomers—it was galling to have to borrow underclothes, but these were far finer than anything she’d ever owned—and crossed her arms. She leaned her hip against the bedpost and studied the young ladies.

Effinghell’s sisters.

Her soon-to-be sisters-in-law?

“I can keep you straight. Amelia is the one with the parrot on her shoulder, and Amanda is wearing a bit of doily on her head, for some reason.”

“Hamish is a cockatoo,” Amelia declared primly, at the same time Amanda pointed out, “It is a lace cap.”

Deciding to answer the older one, Olivia nodded. “Well, it certainly helps keeping you two straight.”

“I know,” Amanda proudly declared. “That is why I wear it.”

“I thought you wore it to denote your devotion to God?” her sister asked, stroking her hand along the cockatoo’s back. “Bride of Christ, and all that?”

“Well, I mean, this week.”

Amelia turned back toward the bed. “Amanda has decided she will not marry.”

Her sister wrinkled her nose. “I have no interest in being paraded about in front of eligible bachelors, just because I happen to be the sister of a duke. And Amelia already has a husband picked out.”

“I did, but Alistair would go through the roof if he knew I was lusting after one of his best friends, so I have decided we will not suit. Besides, Kipling is not even in London. Not even in the country! So my lusting is all going to waste.”

Lusting? Olivia raised her brows.

“Anyway, I cannot marry,” declared Amanda dramatically. “My name is Amanda!”

Olivia’s confusion must have shown, because Amelia lowered her voice to explain. “Amanda? A-man-to? They sound a bit the same, do you see?”

But Olivia just frowned. “What does that have to do with marrying?”

“I should be forced to take my husband’s name!” Amanda declared. “What if I married Sergei Jerkov? I would become Amanda Jerkov!”

“Sounds a bit like A man to jerk off,” Amelia deadpanned.

“Or George Lickwell? Amanda Lickwell?”

Amelia nodded. “A man to lick well.”

“Or!” Amanda threw herself back across the chaise. “Henri Foque? I would become Amanda Foque!”

Amelia waggled her brows. “Sounds like A man to—”

“I think I have the gist,” blurted Olivia, cheeks beginning to warm. “But what if you married…” She cast about wildly. “John Smith? Or Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmidt?”

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