Page 113 of The Duelist for the Ton
“It is if it’s made you so unhappy!”
“I’m not unhappy.”
“Don’t lie!” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be a paragon of honesty? Don’t you always lecture me about how it’s important not to utter falsehoods, and not to harbor secrets?”
“Some secrets are best kept hidden.”
She let out a snort. “I recall others saying that very same thing, and your criticizing them for doing so.”
Others such as Lady Portia—but what a secretshe’dkept hidden!
“I’ll not rest until you tell me.”
“Lord save me from belligerent, stubborn females!” he said. But perhaps itwasbest if Angela knew the awful truth—then she might reconsider any foolish escapades.
He took her hand, steered her toward a chair, and sat her down.
“Brother?” Her voice wavered with apprehension. “HaveIdone something wrong?”
“No, sweet sister,” he said. “It’s only that…” He drew in a deep breath and braced himself. “Lady Portia Hawke is the Farthing.”
For a moment, she stared at him, open-mouthed. Then she threw back her head and laughed.
“Oh, brother!” she cried. “You almost completely fooled me! I ought to strike you down, for you had me so worried. But you can be forgiven, considering the worry I’ve caused you.”
“No, Angela, I—”
“You can’t betoodistressed over Lady Portia if you’re capable of making such a jape of it,” she continued. “Though I’m not sure she’d find such a tale amusing. So I take it you’ve not broken faith with her and that sheisto be my sister?” Her eyes narrowed. “In which case, why have you returned so early when you were supposed to be taking tea with…” She hesitated. “I mean, you wouldn’t…”
The color drained from her face, and her mouth formed an “O.”
He took her hands, and she lowered her gaze, then looked back up at him.
“L-Lady Portia?” she whispered. “B-but…” She shook her head. “I always thought she was different to other… Oh!” She let out a cry. “Does that mean you…youshother?”
“Angela, I didn’t know she was—”
She withdrew her hands. “You shot her,” she said quietly.
“I shot theFarthing.”
“Is she badly injured?”
“Just her arm.”
“Just,” she said, with a snort.
“Angela, if she hadn’t chosen to play a man’s game, she wouldn’t have suffered a man’s punishment.”
“Do you really believe that, brother? Or is that your argument to justify what you’ve done?”
“Surely you’re not condoning whatshe’sdone.”
“She’s always been different,” Angela said. “You said so yourself—in fact, it’s why you admire her so much. Or did. Because she’s not like other ladies who only want to find husbands for themselves. And Mrs. Stowe says—”
“Oh,dotell me what the learned Mrs. Stowe says,” Stephen said, aware of the petulance in his tone. But his sister was placing a mirror in front of him and he wasn’t fond of the reflection he saw.
“Mrs. Stowe says that many women crave independence, and they should not be denied.”
