To Sarani’s surprise, there’d been no more discussion of her origins or the scandal her parents had caused. She had expected Ravenna to treat her differently because she was not fully English, but it simply did not signify. Each day, Sarani kept waiting for the ax to fall, and every day, it didn’t.

“Are you not concerned?” Sarani had blurted out once during breakfast, her voice guarded. “Given who I am?”

“A princess?” Ravenna had returned.

Sarani had grimaced. “A fraud.”

“You are no more a fraud than Penelope, who pretends she is the most eligible heiress of all when the truth is she looks nothing like her father but rather one of her mother’s old lovers. Evelyn Darkle’s father was a cobbler’s son who became a spice merchant worth a fortune. Or even Lord Beckforth, who I’ve discovered was rumored to be a pig farmer before he became earl.” Sarani had digested that knowledge with surprise, her gaze darting to Ravenna, who had paused with a sad smile to bite into a piece of buttered toast. “Or even me. A duke’s daughter without a dowry trying to decide her own fate. We’re both misfits trying to find a place.”

Sarani blinked. “You have a dowry.”

“I did, once.” Ravenna’s lip curled. “You didn’t think the gossip couldn’t touch us, did you? Scandal is the one thing that unites every man, highborn or lowborn. Gossip doesn’t care for rank, fortune, or beauty. If someone falls, the world will know. Mama could not keep our ruin from the creditors, and she was too proud to write to Rhystan. That was all part of her scheme, you see. Find an enormously rich, perfect heiress and all would be solved. Son would be rightfully settled as duke. Daughter would be married to a peer. Mother would live happily ever after. Never mind she had to sacrifice her last remaining son’s happiness to do so.”

Ravenna had broken off, a tear dripping down her cheek, and then she’d excused herself from breakfast. Until Asha had offered to play the instrument for a bit of cheer later that afternoon and Sarani had sought her out, Ravenna hadn’t said a word. Sarani supposed that she’d kept those raw feelings inside for a very long time.

She clapped as Ravenna played a few notes, her smile stretching from ear to ear. They were so caught up in the accomplishment that none of them heard the door open until the warm voice echoed through the room, making the hair on Sarani’s nape stand on end.

“What’s this?” the duke asked.

Ravenna leaped to her feet, the shehnai tumbling from her lap, only to be caught by Asha at the last moment. “Nothing, Your Grace.”