Page 55 of The Duke's Daring Bride

“No, not those.” Olivia leaned over and tapped the back of the paper Amelia held. “But I wrote this one about crimes against women in the East End.”

She might not have had anything tangible to write about The Dark Knight or her brother’s disappearance or the hunt for Blackrose…but any writer worth her salt wouldn’t let that stop her from tugging heartstrings.

On her other side, Amanda gasped. “This story about the poor woman who was attacked by four ruffians? A fate worse than death. Heavens!”

Olivia twisted to see her peering over another copy of the same page.

“Um…yes. It was quite harrowing. Apparently.”

“Did you meet her? The woman you wrote about here?” Amanda was still poring over Olivia’s words. “If The Dark Knight had not saved her, what would have happened to her?”

Amelia scoffed, even as she untangled herself from Olivia’s gown and launched herself to her feet. “A fate worse than death. It says so right there.” She stabbed her finger at the type, then folded it and lifted it closer to her nose to peer at the words. “It sounds horrible.”

“But what is a fate worse than death?” Amanda was shaking her head. “I mean, every horrible fate I can imagine eventually leads to death. Drowning? Being beaten about the head with camels? Suffocation? All lead to death.”

Olivia gaped. “Camels?”

“Well, you have to admit it is a terrible fate.” Amanda shrugged, then tossed the paper aside. “Starvation?”

“Starvation would be terrible,” Olivia agreed, thinking of the creamy brie a smiling maid had delivered her that morning, along with a croissant and a mug of chocolate. “But I think…perhaps…the woman—the victim—in my story meant a…different sort of fate-worse-than-death?”

Amanda’s confused gaze swung to Amelia, who shrugged.

“For me, a fate worse than death would be if I was not allowed to keep pets. Or if I had to watch something terrible happen to them.” Amelia peered at the paper once more. “Your story does not mention pets.”

“If it did,” her sister pointed out, “it would likely cover dogs and cats. Normal pets. Not anacondas and mice and that pair of lemurs you had Alistair order for you.”

Huffing, Amelia made a show of folding the paper. “Lemurs are perfectly adorable,” she announced as she lowered herself regally to one of the surrounding chairs. “How was I to know they were so difficult to care for?”

“It was less their care which worried the household, sister dear, and more the fact they each arrived with their own colony of fleas.” Amanda held a hand in front of her mouth and leaned sideways, mock-whispering to Olivia, “For a while, Amelia’s menagerie included Britain’s largest flea collection. I think she was breeding them for a circus. We had letters from etymologists who wanted to study them.”

Amelia threw a folded-up newspaper at her head.

“Etymologists study words,” Olivia corrected, trying to hide her grin. “I think you mean entomologists. They study insects.”

“Are you certain?” Amanda asked, arms still raised to protect herself from her sister’s attack.

“Quite. It’s my job to know words, after all.”

Amelia was shaking her head. “Then why did you refuse to explain what a fate worse than death is? We are all agog, and I am certain your audience is too.”

Olivia was equally certain her audience didn’t require her to spell out something like that, and in fact would be appalled if she had. But then, most of her audience were not sisters to a duke.

“It’s a…a euphemism…” she began, hoping that would be enough of a hint.

“Ahhh.” Amanda nodded and leaned back against the sofa. “Mother had one of those. Not caused by the fleas, though, thank goodness. The doctors cured—”

“No, no, I mean…” Olivia shook her head. Good Heavens, was it possible these two were really this innocent? They’d been the ones to loan her a copy of A Harlot’s Guide, after all! She cleared her throat. “It is a way to discuss things without actually saying the words directly.”

“What, like naughty words? Shite and ballocks and whatnot?” Amelia asked.

Olivia stared.

Her new sister-in-law shrugged. “I spend my days unable to enter Society with a cockatoo who has a rather extensive vocabulary.”

It was Amanda who leaned in to say, “I believe the new Duchess of Effinghell is referring to sex, dear sister.”

“What?” Amelia gasped and swung toward Olivia. “Sex is not a fate worse than death!”

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