Duffy drew himself up to the very top of his very average height. “I cannot believe you are choosing a life of scandal and degradation over your own family’s wishes.” He rounded upon me. “It is not like you to let Julia take the lead, Augusta. For once, you must pull her back from this precipice on which you both stand.”

“In this instance, brother, Julia speaks for both of us,” I said.

Harriet rose from her seat. “Duffield, they are beyond reason. Let us go.”

Our brother drew in a long breath through pinched nostrils and stalked over to his wife. He offered his arm. She rose with great dignity and together they walked from the room, without looking back and without any farewell or courtesies.

I waited until Samuel had closed the door, then turned to my sister. I knew such a confrontation would have taken a toll upon her nerves.

“That was very brave,” I said.

“I feel quite sick.” She pressed her fingertips against her lips.

“Do you need something?” I started toward the brandy decanter.

“No, I will be quite well in a moment or so.” A few steps took her to the writing table. She sat and slid a new piece of paper across the desk. “I think we should pack only those gowns that we commissioned from Madame Alisette: the ones fashioned in the French mode, and in the French silk. All our other clothes are far too English in style and will give us away.” She picked up her pen. “I shall start making a list.”

“You are coming to France?” I clapped in elation. “Even against Mr. Kent’s advice?”

“I will not allow anyone to tell me how to live my life,” she said. “I am going because I have discovered that I do not wish to be parted from my true family.” She put down the pen again and held out her hand for me. I closed the distance between us and clasped her still trembling fingers. “Mr. Whitmore is right,” she added. “Together we are formidable.”

“And on occasion, ill-mannered too,” I said, smiling.

“On occasion,” my sister conceded. “But only under provocation.”

49

Julia and I spoke first to Weatherly about the mission.

“Would you like to sit?” I asked him when we called him back into the drawing room.

“I would prefer to stand, my ladies,” he said. He did so, before us, hands neatly behind his back, his full attention upon us.

“We have something to ask you, and please do not feel under any obligation to say yes,” Julia said.