She intended to propose her plan at dinner that evening to her sister and brother-in-law. She knew that would be the first hurdle—gaining her sister’s agreement. Once she had Marian on her side, Warrington would approve. He was besotted with Marian, after all. He’d do anything she asked.

They were on to the second course by the time Nora found her voice. “I’ve decided to accept Mr. Sinclair’s invitation,” she proclaimed as she reached for her glass of claret and took a fortifying sip.

The clatter of cutlery around the table stopped abruptly.

Marian and Nathaniel exchanged a long look. They did that often. Nora supposed married couples did that sort of thing. She could not recall if her parents ever did. She held so few memories of her mother, unfortunately. She’d died when Nora was young. She always envied that Marian and Charlotte had had more time with her, more memories to reflect upon.

And now Marian had Nathaniel. And Charlotte had Kingston.

They were forming their own families, building their own lives without her. She tried not to feel jealous, and she truly wasn’t. Not precisely. She simply felt left behind. They’d moved on with the next stage of their lives and left her behind. Not forgotten. Some days she felt that it would be easier if they did forget her. Then they would not attempt all their subtle and not-so-subtle efforts to see her married off to whatever gentleman of the hour struck them as eligible. Really. It was like they didn’t know her at all if they thought she could be tempted by the banality of domesticity.

“What invitation?” Marian inquired after some moments, lowering her forkful of buttered parsnips back down to her plate. “I don’t recall that he invited you anywhere.”

“Indeed,” Warrington seconded, looking equally bewildered. “I don’t recall an invitation being extended either.” Naturally, he would support his wife.

“Oh, he did during our walk through the gardens.” She fluttered a hand vaguely, hoping she did not appear dishonest—even if she was. Especially because she was. “He came here for my help, after all—”

“Your help?” Warrington looked at her dubiously.

“He did not come here for you. He came here for help from Papa,” Marian reminded pointedly, waving her fork in a small circle. “He did not extend that invitation to you, Nora. He did not even leave without saying farewell. Merely spoke to Mrs. Conally and asked her to pass along his compliments and appreciation to us.” She made a face, pursing her lips as though she had bitten into something particularly sour. “I had hoped when I left you with him you might have softened him.”

“Yes, that did not work.”

Marian sighed with a rueful shake of her head, her hand lowering to rub her generous belly. “I suppose I should have known better. You’re not known for your charm.”