A cackle from Ming. “No offense to Kitten, but I think that guy is getting everything he ‘needs’ from the Twins.” She tips her head, thoughtful. “Wasn’t he the one you wanted a rush on that other dress for in the first place?”

I fiddle with one of the pearl buttons. “Yeah?”

“Interesting.” She shifts to my opposite side, then points a pin at my reflection. “Aren’t you supposed to be the ‘stable’ one in our sexy little family?”

“I never agreed to that. And yes, the dress was in case things got interesting with Wickham. He no-showed that night, I handed him off to the Twins, and now they’re doing, I dunno, whatever it is they do with men.”

“Ohmigod, the sexual intrigue of your world is too much for this old bride-to-be,” Chloe submits. “I love it.”

“It seems our beloved kitty cat,” Ming continues with unnecessary gravitas, “has hooked her claws into a certain Mr. Tolerable.”

“Darcy?” Jane sits upright on the edge of the bed, eyes narrowed but still smiling. “How dare you hold out on me!”

“Fine.” I sigh. “He came in—”

“That’s right! Charles needed him to drop some paperwork off while he and I were out.” He purses his lips. “I meant to ask if you played nicely.”

Ming laughs, sordid as ever, but at Jane’s mention of “paperwork” I’m back to imagining Darcy’s lips forming the word against my neck . . . and everywhere else.

“Aah! She shivered again,” Chloe hollers.

“Girl, I’m gonna have to sew cups into this thing if you’re going to keep getting riled up,” Ming warns. “You look like you’re hiding pencil erasers up there.”

I cross my arms over my chest, earning a poke from a straight pin. “We danced. It was . . .” I drop my arms to dislodge the pin. “Ming’s right. It was very sexy and I liked what he did with his hands. But it’s complicated—he and Wickham have a severely fucked-up history.” I give the quick and dirty version of Wickham’s claims about Pemberley and his relationship with Darcy’s dad.

Ming grimaces. “That is some shady shit.”

Jane shakes his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Surely, they’ve both been deceived, in some way or another, gotten bad information from someone?” he says, as if the idea of such treachery is too foreign for his pure spirit to comprehend. I catch Ming’s eye, and she smiles at our friend’s unflappable good faith. “I’d hate to blame either of them if it’s all some misunderstanding.”

I laugh. “And now, Jane, please, tell me how we might forgive this mysterious third party with the ‘bad information.’ You’ll have to clear them, too, or we’ll be forced to think ill of somebody.”