Cas, on the other hand, had stoically accepted that Iris, who was already living half in a dream world, would not take it well if both her twin sons left her at the same time. Miranda, who had lacked for family her whole life, was quite happy to move into the bustling, shabby, outrageous Worthington House. Attie couldn't blame her. Anyone sensible could see what a wonderful place Worthington House was.

Attie tapped twice on the door, very lightly. In fact, she tapped so lightly that she made not a single sound. However, if asked, she could truthfully say she had knocked. In this particular instance, it made no difference to anyone if she knocked or not, but Attie made it a practice to leave her options open.

Attie walked through the sitting room. It was a comfortable, overstuffed sort of place done up in cream and peacock blues, and usually extremely tidy, although at the moment things were in a bit of disarray. There were teacups on the scrollwork side table and a few scattered news-sheets on the floor. There was also one very large brother sprawled across the sofa with one arm crooked over his eyes, fully dressed and dead to the world.

Attie continued through the sitting room without waking Cas. He'd had a very long night tending to Iris. Everyone took a turn. Right now, Attie's father Archimedes Worthington and their housekeeper, Mrs. Philpot, were teaming up to take care of Iris. That worked out well, for between the two of them they almost made up a competent adult.

Attie moved to the bedroom door of the suite and again tapped feather light.

When she entered, the room was very dim. The heavy draperies had been pulled tight against the midday light. Attie wasn't quite sure how to wake Miranda. While she was very fond of her sister-in-law, who was a perfectly nice person and very nearly a proper Worthington, there had always been a bit of distance between them. Miranda was a lady through and through. And while Attie's sisters Calliope and Elektra were also ladies — and Elektra was actually Lady Arbogast — the state of ladydom was more of a coat they buttoned on when necessary and took off as soon as they pleased. Miranda, on the other hand, was very likely a lady even when she was all alone.

Attie felt a little sorry for her sometimes. Miranda was so kind. Perhaps that was why Attie didn't truly understand her, because for all her gifts, Attie was perfectly aware that no one would ever describe her as kind.

There was no need to wake Miranda, after all. Aurora twisted her little round head to see that her mother was near and let out a bellow. "Maaaaaa!" The half-word rose to a shriek that could slice through an iron lamp post.

Miranda opened her eyes. "My tiny tyrant calls."