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“Oh Lottie, Lottie. You’ve come back,” her sister cried before launching herself into her arms. “Lord, how I’ve missed you.”

Charlotte choked out a sob at the use of her childhood name as they embraced at the foot of the staircase, clinging to one another under a deluge of shared tears. Joy, relief, and the pain of their long separation had Charlotte trembling uncontrollably. The last time they’d held each other this tightly, they had been frightened five-year-old orphans just arrived at the boarding school. Save a father who’d ensured for only their financial welfare, they’d been very much alone in the world.

“Oh God, I thought you—” Charlotte broke off abruptly when her sister turned a tear-stained face to her, her joy a living breathing entity. How could she now admit she’d returned because she’d thought her near death’s door? She could not.

“Thought I was what?” Katie asked in a voice choked with tears.

“I thought perhaps I wouldn’t find you home,” Charlotte quickly improvised. “Oh Katie, how I missed you too, so very much.”

Katie’s breaths came in pants and half sobs, her arms tightening around Charlotte’s waist until she could scarce draw a breath. How long they stood holding each other, she didn’t know. But for those finite moments, time seemed to stand still.

After she caught her breath, and her sister was no longer gasping as if she’d been running too hard and too long, Charlotte loosened her hold and drew back to take in a face so dearly familiar and identical to her own. With them, their differences lay beneath the surface.

Sky blue eyes fringed with thick lashes gazed back at her. Eyes glassy with tears. In all the jostling and excitement, ringlets of burnished gold curls had come dislodged from what had to be a small army of pins securing her sister’s chignon. How well Charlotte knew what it took to keep the thick mane properly tamed and presentable.

Katie reached out to cradle Charlotte’s cheek in her palm, her touch almost reverent. “Where—when–why didn’t you say anything about coming home in your last letter?”

“The decision was very last minute,” Charlotte whispered in a voice equally thick with emotion as her twin’s.

After brushing the crest of Charlotte’s cheek with her thumb, Katie dropped her hand to her side. “I hope you realize that James and Missy will be beside themselves when I send word of your return,” she chided gently. “They’re to stay in London a week. Of course, I’ll have to send word express that you’ve returned. I expect they’ll be home tomorrow or soon after.”

“I know and I’m disappointed too, but in a way I’m happy it’s just the two of us—at least for today.”

Katie smiled, her face flushed pink with pleasure. After several seconds of contented silence, she took a step back and began a critical appraisal of Charlotte’s figure, commencing at the ruffled collar of her blue and yellow wool-traveling suit. Her expression sobered the further her gaze continued downward. “You’re too thin. Why, I must outweigh you by a good half a stone.”

“Perhaps a little. I’ve recently dropped some weight.” The stress of thinking one’s sister hovered on the brink of death tended to kill one’s appetite. Of course, that was something she couldn’t now admit to her twin.

“We’ll have to fatten you up a bit. It’s obvious you haven’t been taking proper care of yourself,” Katie stated crisply, eyeing the dress at her waist, which several weeks ago had cinched it nicely instead of bunching with excess fabric as it did now.

“You haven’t changed a bit, still just as bossy as ever,” Charlotte teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Her sister would have time to reproach about her inadequate diet later. Desperate to hold off the questions sure to come, she turned to her surroundings. Her gaze swept the three-storey vestibule and down the wide corridor of the picture gallery ahead. “Though the same can’t be said of this place. I would hardly recognize it anymore.”

Katie came immediately to her side and hooked her arm through hers as if she couldn’t bear any physical distance between them. Following the direction of Charlotte’s gaze, she said, “Yes, Missy redecorated three summers ago. I’m proud to say I did have a small hand in the effort. I selected the chandelier.” Her sister angled them toward the front and pointed at the elaborate crystal and glass lighting fixture soaring high above the entryway. “A fine choice if I daresay.”

Charlotte nodded her agreement. Her sister had always had exquisite taste.

“Missy insisted on a décor more suited to children. The rugs were purchased when the floors met with one too many of her treasured Wedgwood vases. Marble tends to be terribly unforgiving that way.” She emitted an airy chuckle. “But the alterations have added a warmth that was lacking before. Don’t you think it looks and feels more like a home and less like a museum than when the dowager lived here?”

Charlotte nodded mutely as a frisson of fear coursed the length of her spine at the mention of the dowager. She didn’t want to think about her.

Slowly, she lowered her gaze to admire the Persian rug beneath her booted feet, and continued on to take in silk-papered walls done in dark green. Two walnut tables inlaid with a lighter wood, and several chairs with cushioned seats in which a weary bottom might actually find comfort also graced the hall.

“Yes, it certainly does.”

Months after the death of their father, James’s mother, the dowager Countess of Windmere, moved to Devon and James took possession of the manor. Charlotte had found the place as cold and sterile as its previous occupant. Although they had never been formally introduced, the dowager had made no secret of her loathing for Charlotte and Katie. But given they were the illegitimate issue of the woman’s husband and born only months after her youngest son, her feelings were understandable and expected. However, the dowager had carried her hatred too far. The letter and the threat had revealed her truly vindictive side.

“While I was sad for James and Christopher when she passed away, I must admit to a sense of relief knowing our paths would never cross again.”

Charlotte’s next breath emerged a serrated gasp. Her head snapped to the side and she stared at Katie, mouth agape. “She is dead?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

Her sister sent her a puzzled frown, her winged brows collecting over a slender nose. “Surely you can’t be distressed?” Katie asked, clearly mistaking her shock for sadness. “You know how I normally refrain from the use of clichés, but truly that woman has been the bane of my existence. If you had remained, you would have been similarly affected. I’m certain if not for that wretched woman, I would have married ages ago. But no, she refused to allow anyone to forget I was James’s illegitimate sister. Not at all good enough for their precious sons.”

Charlotte didn’t respond immediately, still trying to digest the enormity of what she’d just learned. Dare she hope with the dowager gone, so too was the threat she had posed to everyone Charlotte loved?

“When—when did she die?” If she died recently, there was still time for the truth to come out if she’d confided in anyone.

“Early last year. I would have told you had I an address to send my correspondence to,” Katie replied a note of censure in her voice.

For almost an entire year. The length of time gave Charlotte great hope. James and Missy were in London with the children, and presumably still welcome members of Society. Certainly if the dowager had shared the information, something would have surfaced by now. It appeared she had taken it with her to her grave. She shot Katie a glance. Their secret was safe.

“I imagine it must have been a very difficult time for James and Christopher.” This Charlotte could say with all honesty.