She had the note memorized. It was a lovely composition of black pen strokes on thick creamy paper. Delo had delivered it yesterday when she came to call. The wax seal, imprinted with the Trell willow, had still been intact. Nevertheless, Delo's wide eyes and conspiratorial manner had betrayed that she was fully aware of the contents. When they were alone, Delo had confided that she had never seen her brother so distraught. Ever since he had seen Malta dancing in Reyn's arms, he had been unable to sleep. He only picked at his food. He had even given up gaming with the other young men. Instead, he burned the long evenings into the early morning hours sitting alone by the study fire. His father was becoming very impatient with him. He had accused Cerwin of being lazy, and declared that he did not disinherit his eldest son simply so that the younger boy could become as idle as the first. Delo was at her wit's end. Surely, Malta could do something to give her brother some tiny ray of hope.

Malta replayed the scene in her mind. She had stared off into the distance. A tiny tear had come into her eye and run down her cheek. She had told Delo she feared there was little she could do. Her grandmother had seen to that. She was no more now than a shiny bauble to be sold off to the highest bidder. She would do her best to stave off everything until her father returned home. She was certain he would rather see her in the arms of a man she cared for than one who was simply the wealthiest. Then she had given Delo a message to carry back. She dared not entrust it to paper, but would have to rely on her best friend's honor. Malta would meet him at midnight at the gazebo just past the ivy-covered oak at the bottom of the rose garden.

That was tonight. She still had not decided if she would keep that tryst or not. A summer night spent outside under the oak tree would not hurt Cerwin a bit. Nor Delo. She could always plead later that she had been unable to escape the scrutiny of her guardians. It might heighten Cerwin's sense of urgency.

“THE WORST PART is THAT SHE HAS SPIRIT AND INTELLIGENCE, I LOOK AT her and think, 'there, but for my father's interference, go I.' If he had not taken me to sea, if I had been forced to stay at home and be suffocated under what was 'proper and correct for a girl to do,' I might have rebelled in the same way. I think my mother and sister are wrong to allow her to dress and behave as if she was a woman grown, but she is certainly not a child either. She has set herself up in opposition to all of us, and will not open her eyes to see that we are one family and must act together. She is so busy defending her notion of her father's perfection that she cannot even see our other problems. As for Selden, he has almost disappeared. He mouses about the house, and scarcely speaks above a whisper except when he is whining. Then they give him sweets and tell him to run and play, they are busy. Malta is supposed to help him with his lessons, but all she does is make him cry. I don't have time to do anything with him, even if I knew what it was a boy that age needs.” Althea shook her head in exasperation and hissed out a sigh.

She lifted her eyes from the tea she had been methodically stirring as she talked and met Grag's eyes. He smiled at her. They were sitting at a small table outside a Bingtown bakery. Here, in plain view, they did not need to fear the gossip-mongers who might otherwise be intrigued at their meeting unchaperoned. Althea had run into Crag in the street on her way to Amber's shop. He had convinced her to pause long enough to have some refreshment with him. When he had asked her what had upset her enough to send her out of the house without a hat, she had unloaded the morning's tale on him. Now she felt a bit shamed.

“I'm sorry. You invite me to tea and all I do is whine about my niece. It can't be pleasant for you to listen to such things. Nor should I be speaking so of my family. But that Malta! I know she goes into my room when I am not home. I know she goes through my things. But . . .” Belatedly, Althea stopped her tongue. “I shouldn't let the little minx get to me. I see now why mother and my sister agreed to this early courtship. It might be our only chance to be rid of her.”

“Althea!” Crag rebuked her with a grin. “I am sure they would not do that.”

“No. They actually have the best interests of all in mind. My mother has told me, plainly, that she expects Reyn will drop the courtship when he gets to know Malta better.” Althea gave a sigh. “If it were up to me, I'd hurry it along before he gets wise.”

Grag lifted a finger from the tabletop and boldly touched the back of her hand. “No you wouldn't,” he assured them both. “You haven't got that kind of meanness in you.”

“Are you sure of that?” she teased him gently.