“Oh, lovely. I don’t believe I’m acquainted with him.”

Rhystan nearly swore under his breath. He saw the same aggravated look cross Sarani’s face as if realizing what she’d just admitted out loud. It wasn’t a calamity per se, especially if Ravenna didn’t share it with the duchess or any other nosy members of the ton. But it could not be taken back, not without drawing more attention. And Ravenna, as devoted a sister as she was, was still a girl at heart. Juicy secrets had a way of getting out…and Sarani’s truths were hers to share.

“Come along,” Ravenna said, striding along the corridor. “I wasn’t jesting about the reinforcements, though it will likely be Fullerton. He’s our exceedingly proper butler. He’s new. Don’t worry, Brother dear, none of your prospective brides are here. I was teasing.”

“Thank God for that,” Rhystan muttered, his brain muddled by her incessant prattling. He spared Sarani a glance. Despite the earlier glimpse of humor at his predicament—which seemed to grow darker by the second—she hadn’t said a word. His hand grazed the small of her back, his voice lowering. “Are you well, my lady?”

“Very well.” She peered up at him, eyes glittering with a glee to rival his sister’s. “Honestly, I’m quite excited to meet your harem. Assess the competition, if you will.”

Ravenna’s laugh trilled back toward them. “Oh, Rhyssie, I do like her immensely. Please do marry her.”

Rhystan bit back a sigh. The two of them together spelled trouble, but it was too soon to dwell upon it as he caught sight of his mother, ensconced in a divan in the drawing room, her back resting upon a mound of cushions. He narrowed his eyes at her complexion, checking for signs of illness and finding none. She was as hale as anyone; he’d bet his fortune on it.

Not that he expected her to be ill—not if she was busy interviewing a harem of prospective future duchesses.

“Mother,” he said in greeting.

“Embry, darling,” she said softly as if it pained her to speak, and Rhystan almost rolled his eyes. “How wonderful to see you.”

“And you,” he said, moving to kiss her outstretched hands. “You look rested.”

She smiled. “I’m much recovered, and better now that you are here.” Her gaze shifted to where Ravenna stood with Sarani, and he could see the widening of her pupils and the suspicion that instantly filled them. “I thought I heard voices in the hall. Who, pray tell, is your guest?”

“Mother, may I present Lady Sara Lockhart.” He reached back, pulling Sarani to his side and leaving his mother in little doubt of their familiarity. “Lady Sara, my mother, Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Embry.”