time to find a man to suit even your high expectations.”

“I don’t think so.” She wiggles her toes at me. “What about you? Do you love Paul?”

I glare at her. “Why on earth did you tell Sachi and Rory that he means to propose? I told you I don’t know if I can accept.” “And I toldyouthat’s nonsense,” Maura returns, pulling the pins from her hair. “Besides, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. You weren’t much

help at making conversation.”

“Now they’ll be gossiping about us all over town.” The carriage pauses as John exchanges pleasantries with Mrs. Corbett’s coachman, just

coming out of her lane. Besides the McLeods, she’s our nearest neighbor. She rents a small, square house with gray shingles, barely visible

through the orchards surrounding it. I can’t help thinking she ought to live in some Gothic mansion, replete with cobwebs and headless statues. It

would suit her better than an innocent-looking little cottage.

“At least it’s the normal sort of gossip. Isn’t that what we want?” Maura asks.

I fall quiet. She’s right. Marrying Paul, going to tea with the Brothers’ wives, gossiping with Sachi Ishida about my betrothal—those are all things a

normal girl would do. But what willIdo?

“You will marry Paul, won’t you?” Maura asks, her forehead wrinkled with concern. The carriage jolts forward, the horses’ hooves clopping against

the hard-packed dirt road. Clouds of dust rise up, and I sneeze, leaning away from the window.

“I don’t know, Maura. He hasn’t asked me yet.”

Maura sits up and puts her feet back on the wooden floorboards. “He will. And you mustn’t let some misguided notion of duty toward Tess and

me stop you from saying yes. It would be a wasted sacrifice. If you don’t choose for yourself, the Brothers will choose for you. What good would it do

any of us to have you miserable? Your husband could still take you away anywhere he wanted. You’ll be happier with Paul.” I bite my lip. How can I explain my doubts without telling her about Mother’s diary or the prophecy?

“You really think I’d be happy with Paul?” I ask.

She smiles, pleased that I’m asking for her advice. “I do. He wouldn’t suit me, but possibly he’s perfect for you.”

Lord, but she’s full of backhanded compliments today. “You don’t think he’s handsome?”

Maura twirls one red curl around her finger. “I suppose. Rory thought so. What doyouthink? You’re the one who’d have to share his bed.” “Maura!” I bury my face in my hands, mortified.

“Well, you would. Come, Cate, we’re sisters. Do you find him handsome?”

I nod, remembering his lips against my wrist. “Yes.”

“It would be a good match. None of the McLeods have ever been in any trouble, and he’s got excellent prospects. He could probably have any girl

in town. Did you see the way Rose was looking at him last week at church? But he doesn’t even glance at other girls. It’s obvious he worships you.” “He does?” I ask, and Maura nods vehemently.

If my sisters and I were ordinary girls, would I want a life in New London with Paul? He told me more about the city last time he called: the

restaurants with spicy, exotic Mexican dishes; the long rambles he takes along the piers to watch the ships coming in; the zoo full of animals from all

over the world. It sounds grand. Every day there would be an adventure. And he wants to show me all of it.

If I were a brave girl—an adventurous girl, like Arabella—that’s what I’d want, too. It’s what Maura wants. Her eyes lit up like candles when he

spoke of it.

Sometimes I wonder if he chose the wrong sister.

Maura stretches back against the leather bench like a cat. “I see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. All moony. His eyes

have this sort ofgleamin them.”

“Agleam?” I tease. “Oh, heavens!”

“You shouldn’t laugh, Cate. He’d make you a good husband, I expect. Only—” Maura hesitates. “Areyou in love with him, do you think?” “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I care about him.”

“But does your heart pound when he’s near?” Maura’s blue eyes go dreamy. “In my novels, the heroine’s heart always pounds. Do you feel like

swooning when he touches your hand? Or when he says your name? Do you feel as though you’ll die if you’re apart from him for a single day?” The pragmatic one, is she? I burst into laughter. “No, I can’t say I do.”

She frowns. “Then it must not be love. Not yet, anyway.”

Elena leaps on us the second we get inside, eager to hear how it went. The three of us gather in the sitting room: Elena perfectly poised in the blue chair, Maura bouncing on her end of the sofa as she brags about how popular we were. I collapse onto the other end of sofa, exhausted, but my conscience batters at me until I thank Elena and assure her that we were a credit to her teaching. Maura regales her with the details: how gaudy and grand the Ishidas’ house is, with its silks and chandeliers in every room; how bold and fashionable Sachi’s dress was; how Cristina said she’ll declare her intention to marry Matthew Collier on Sunday at church.

“Soon it’ll be your turn, Cate,” Elena says. “Mr. McLeod stopped by this afternoon while you were out. He was very sorry to miss you.” Maura laughs. “I told you! He’s pining over you!”

“Are you pining, too?” Elena’s eyes feel like searchlights.

I bury my face against the curved back of the sofa and groan. “That’s none of your business.”

“Cate!” Maura chastises. “Don’t be rude.”

I want to point out that it’s Elena’s prying that makes me speak rudely, but she’s hardly the first to ask. Sachi and Rory felt it perfectly within their

rights to question me about Paul; Mrs. Winfield and Mrs. Ishida made insinuations; Maura interrogated me on the way home. I won’t have any peace until I announce my decision. It’s down to ten weeks now. “It ismy business, actually. Your father hired me to see to it that you girls make suitable arrangements.”Arrangements, she says—notmarriages. But it’s mortifying to have it laid out so plainly. Father didn’t trust me to find my own husband, so he brought a governess aboard to help. “Marriage shouldn’t be entered into lightly, Cate. If you’re unsure—we can talk about it. You do have other alternatives. The Sisterhood—”

“I don’t want to join the Sisterhood,” I snap.

Elena leans forward, tapping her nails against the wooden arm of the chair. “Do you want to marry Mr. McLeod?”

“I don’t know,” I say miserably. I raise my eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What else is there?” Maura demands. “You only have—”

“I know!” I shout. “Ten weeks!Do you honestly think I could forget?”

“Cate—” Maura looks shocked. It’s a rare thing, my raising my voice with them.

“Leave me alone, please,” I beg, scrambling out of the room. “I just want to be alone.”