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Siobhan nodded, annoyed that Miles Johnstone came to mind immediately. “I suppose I can make more of an effort. If only all the so-called ‘suitable’ men didn’t remind me of pampered toads it would be easier.”

Her father chuckled. “You never cease to entertain me, lass.”

Unexpectedly, her mother entered the room, without knocking. “I must speak to you, Siobhan,” she said, and then, “You should not be bothering your father while he works. It is time for tea.”

Siobhan rose then and followed her mother from her father’s office, giving him a smile of thanks as she left. As she walked behind Mother, she mused about her parents’ seemingly strange relationship. They were very different people and didn’t appear to suit. And it was true that they never showed their affection in front of anyone. But to her, it was obvious they were in love.

Though her mother was social, and cared greatly about what others thought of her and her father preferred his own company, they were oddly well-suited, more like two halves of a completed whole than opposite sides of a circle. Siobhan knew that her mother admired her husband’s intelligence and intellectual pursuits while he—often uncomfortable in social situations—appreciated that his wife could speak to anyone and always knew how to act in society. Still, Siobhan wondered if he knew that Mother was scheming to entrap a lord into marrying their daughter. Would he admire that?

A sudden thought occurred to her: Had Mother entrapped Papa? It wasn’t impossible to believe, because how else would she ever have gotten the quiet, studious man to notice her? In Siobhan’s estimation, he rarely set foot in a ballroom, either now or then.

It was an intriguing thought, though probably not a proper one.

Once they were seated in the sitting room, her mother poured tea. Amelia lounged nearby working on her most recent embroidery. Her gaze flitted from her and back to the hooped fabric in her hands.

Siobhan wanted to roll her eyes at Amelia’s obvious attempt at inattention. Why even bother to pretend to embroider if she was going to be so focused on her, instead? She took a deep breath and forced herself to sip her tea while she waited for whatever schemes her mother and sister were planning to foist upon her. She had no doubt that while they were aiming to capture Lord Miles, the pair’s plot included her somehow. Right now, they were putting their plan for her into play.

“I must state that your actions when around Lord Miles have been most inappropriate,” her mother stated, then sipped the tea before deliberately placing the cup down. “Darling, you must not be so…familiar with men. They will get ideas.”

“Such as?” Siobhan pretended innocence. “What kind of ideas, Mother?”

“Well…” Her mother’s cheeks colored, and she picked up her cup again, using it to hide her face as she murmured, “That you are without regard for propriety.”

What her mother stated was true. Since her father had sent Gerard away, she’d lost any desire to even pretend to enjoy the goings on of high society. “I do not seek them, or Lord Miles, especially, out. In fact, it is quite the opposite.”

“Regardless, you must avoid him at all costs.”

Siobhan was unable to keep from smiling. Her mother was so calculating, even in her actions with the cup. She was like an actress in a play, though she probably thought she was being quite clever. “Why? If he is interested in me, then he would make a suitable husband. Wouldn’t you be proud that I could one day be a duchess?”

Her mother’s eyes rounded, and she swallowed visibly before attempting a neutral expression. “I cannot picture that.” It had always been obvious to everyone, except maybe her mother, that she favored Amelia. In Siobhan’s estimation it was fair, as she herself took after her father, who doted on her in return.

Her mother’s remark was not unexpected, and yet, it did smart. “Mother, you truly do not think I could hold a title and be a fine and proper duchess?”

Her mother frowned and waved her hand dismissively. “Do not jest, Siobhan. You are far too…spirited to be married to a duke.”

That description, again? “I wish everyone would call me something other than ‘spirited’. Why not troublesome, or mischievous, or even mad?”

Amelia stopped pretending not to be listening. “You are mad. I do not understand why he would ever seek you out. You’re everything a duchess isn’t. What does he see in you?”

Siobhan took a deep breath, partially to appear calm instead of displaying the spirit they constantly accused her of showing, and partially because the thought of Miles seeking her out made her feel like flying. Did he seek her out? It had seemed that way to Siobhan, too, but she didn’t want to believe it to be true. Yet, if Amelia and her mother noticed it, perhaps… She exhaled. “Perhaps it is because neither of us enjoys social events and both of us recognize we’re seeking ways to avoid being there.”

Amelia narrowed her eyes. Her mother shook her head. “He is obligated to attend events. His family holds an important place in society. Unlike you, who does not hide her disdain for gatherings, he performs his duties admirably.”

“Are you his protector, Mother?” Siobhan asked. “Why the sudden interest in Lord Miles?” Perhaps she could get them to admit their plan.

Her mother glanced toward Amelia before admitting, “I believe your sister could gain his attention—if you stop interfering.”

Before she could reply with something she’d regret, Siobhan bit the tip of her tongue. Despite that she didn’t want to be married, and especially did not want to give up her freedom and her own pursuits as she would under the thumb of whoever she married, the idea of Miles with his sister turned her stomach. That he’d be present at family events, married to Amelia, brought on a sensation she’d never felt before. Her pulse quickened and her breath caught as a knot rose to her throat.

It was best to leave the room. When she got to her feet, her dress caught on the table, sending the teacups to clatter; one even tipped, splashing tea over the surface.

“You ask why I can’t see you acting as a duchess, Siobhan? Goodness, your lack of decorum makes you simply unsuitable for any social gathering,” her mother said, righting her cup and throwing a napkin over the spilled tea.

“I am tired of you acting as if I am unredeemable.” Siobhan looked from her mother to her sister. “But you do not have to fear that I’m going to interfere with your plans to trap Lord Johnstone into marriage. I will not attend any more social events this season.”

She ignored the astonished looks they exchanged and then gave her. Instead, she swept from the room, blinking away her tears.

“Siobhan!” her mother called after her, but she pretended not to hear.