What she did not manage, however, was to find both sisters; when she located Rose, Amanda was nowhere in sight.
“Where is Amanda?” she asked as she approached her sister, the question somewhere between a demand and a lament.
Rose gave her a stubborn look.
That wasnevergood.
While Amanda was, generally speaking, the twin far more likely to overflow with the kind of brilliant ideas that gave Emily a blistering headache, she could also often be distracted by a different idea—a more appropriate one if Emily had anything to do with it—so long as it amused her. Rose, in contrast, was typically more likely to default to appropriate behavior unless Amanda was there to tempt her into chaos, but she was far more intractable when she put her mind to it.
“You are being far too controlling, Emily,” Rose accused, chin jutting out mulishly. “I simply don’t know why you feel you must act this way.”
And perhaps whatever devil possessed Rose when she got in this mood affected Emily as well, for though she knew every move to this argument as well as she knew her own name, she found herself engaging in it anyway.
“Because I’m your sister,” she said as she had a hundred times before. “I am trying to protect you.”
“Protect us?” Rose asked, rolling her eyes and tossing her head like she had a thousand times before. “From what? From enjoying ourselves? From having our own personalities?”
“No,” said Emily through gritted teeth. “From people who would try to take advantage. You know the world is not safe for young ladies?—”
“Idon’tknow that,” Rose retorted. “How could I know that when you’re constantly trying to keep us from ever experiencing anything?”
“That’snotwhat I’m trying to do.” It was highly inappropriate to quibble like children in a ballroom, but they both had the sense at least to keep their argument to heated whispers. Even so, the part of Emily that was always worrying about decorum—both for her own sake and for the twins’—fretted that glances had started to drift their way.
“You’re not our mother!” Rose hissed, and they both froze.
There it was. The place this argument always ended up, the hurdle it could never overcome.
Emily felt all the ire drop out of her, replaced by a heavy mantle of sadness.
“I know I’m not,” she said softly even as Rose tripped over herself to apologize.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Em; I’m being horrid,” she replied, lunging for Emily’s hand.
Emily squeezed her sister’s fingers. “You’re not—well, you are,” she amended, and Rose chuckled, the tension between them dissipating in a flash. “But I understand it. I shall try to be more…understanding.”
Even as she said it, though, she couldn’t stop her nose from wrinkling.
“I do not believe you,” Rose said, but there was no heat to her tone. “I have no doubt that you will continue to be your terrible, overprotective self.”
Emily had no suitable response to this—as she probablywouldcontinue to be protective though she refused to acknowledge Rose’s other descriptors—so she merely offered her little sister her arm. Rose looped her elbow through Emily’s.
“Will you please tell me where Amanda is, though?” she prompted after a moment.
“Incorrigible,” Rose chuckled. “Yes, very well—she’s dancing? Really, Emily, what did you expect?”
Emily assumed that question was rhetorical as, with Amanda, no expectation was too outlandish.
She could not resist, however, muttering to her sister, “You might’ve said that from the start, you know.”
Rose’s mouth quirked with devilish amusement.
A couple standing across the room caught Emily’s eye.
“My goodness!” she exclaimed. “What onearthis Diana doing here?”
She and Rose began to cross to the woman in question, who beamed and waved excitedly as soon as she saw them coming, leaning heavily on her husband’s arm when the move upset her balance.
Diana Young, the Duchess of Hawkins, was in the advanced stage of pregnancy when a woman’s shape defied conventional physics. Her husband, Andrew Young, the Duke of Hawkins, looked anxiously aware of this fact as he clung to Diana like he feared she would capsize.