That hadn’t always been the case. They’d been as close as two people could have ever been. That had been, of course, back when she’d been young and innocent and believed men and women could share a deep, unbreakable bond. With time, she’d come to appreciate that sex was just sex. And there weren’t really any bonds that were sacred. And the only love a person was best knowing . . . was a love of oneself.
Her sister’s face fell. “But . . . but . . .”
“Leave it, Har,” she advised.
“But he was your friend, Annalee. You said that once.”
Yes, she had. After a family dinner party when he was in attendance—as he always had been for her family’s polite gatherings. She’d been drinking too much and had a discussion with Harlow where she’d said too much. And her sister had never let go of that information; she’d seized upon it as a seeming thing of great fascination.
Harlow tugged Annalee’s hem, calling back her attention. “There’s nothing more important than a pirate’s loyalty. It’s part of the code. You know,” she said on a rush, “where members were asked to make their mark and swear an oath of allegiance or honor . . .”
“Argh!” Annalee drawled in low, guttural tones as she put her spare hand to her brow in a pirate’s salute. She let her arm fall to her lap. “But the Darlings of the world, Har?” she began gently. “They’re no pirates.” Once there’d been bitterness at what Wayland had become. A living, breathing example of the opposite of the man she’d once loved . . . back when she believed in love.
Harlow dropped her chin into her hand and stuck her lower lip forward in a perfect pout. “He sounded more fun and better then, the way you described him.”
“Oh, he was,” she said softly, before she could call it back. A wistful smile stole across her face. “You would have liked him very much.”
With time, in the days and months and then years following Peterloo, she’d appreciated that the experience had changed them all . . . in different ways. And none of the men, women, or children who’d been caught up in the hell unleashed upon humanity that day should be judged for how they’d come out of that experience.
“But he’s not so very bad now, right?” It was a lie. Wayland was a complete stranger to Annalee now, and as such, she couldn’t say much about him one way or the other. She knew he was loyal to her brother and their family. He was also kind to her sister . . . which should not be underestimated, given how Polite Society, on the whole, treated women and made invisible young girls like Harlow.
“Yes, I suppose,” Harlow said unconvincingly.
And because they’d already spoken too much about the last person Annalee wished to speak about, the one man she’d taken pains to avoid all thought of, she proceeded to gather the cards.
Her sister’s head shot up. “Hey! What are you doing?”
“Go. You want to watch the festivities.”
A blush pinkened her sister’s cheeks. “I’d prefer to stay with you.”
“Liar.” She softened that with a wink and a tug of Harlow’s ringlets.
“Well, most times,” Harlow allowed. The little girl flashed a wide, gap-toothed smile. Their mother had long lamented that wide space between Harlow’s front teeth. Annalee, however, had forever insisted to her sister, troubled by the gap, that it lent character and intrigue to her.
“But this promises to be more interesting than Mother’s usually dull affairs.” Her sister hesitated a moment. “You . . . could always come . . .”
“I will,” Annalee promised. It was just the longer she stayed away, the less likely she was to shame her family in some way . . . or risk the crowd chasing out her demons. “I’ll return shortly.”
“No . . .” Harlow fiddled with the hilt of her sword. “I mean . . . home.”
Oh, God. There it was.
Harlow rushed to fill the thick silence. “If you did, we could be together. We could sneak off here and not have to worry about Mother’s nagging.”
And here she’d believed there was no greater misery than the hell of Peterloo. With her sister’s softly spoken child’s words ripping a hole through her heart, she discovered how wrong she’d been.
“Oh, poppet,” she began. “If I were here, there’d only be fighting between Mother and me . . . and that wouldn’t be good for you.”
“I wouldn’t care!”
“And there is . . . the Mismatch Society.”
“But Sylvia and Valerie and the others—”
“I’ve been tasked with leading the society in a whole new direction.” One that no other woman in the entire organization was capable of. Not in the way Annalee was. She’d been leading those discussions for almost a week, and yet she still could not fully fathom that she’d been elevated to a leader of the group she so loved.
With a selflessness better suited to a woman ten years her senior, Harlow’s entire visage brightened, and she brought her hands close to her chest. “You should be a leader. You are one of the bravest, strongest, most wonderful women I know!”
So much love for her sister filled Annalee. Since the society’s inception, she’d taken a peripheral role, content to let the others shape the path the group had taken. Not even really believing herself capable to lead. Hell, she wasn’t sure she was.
“What are you doing?” Harlow asked.
“I’m helping educate women about relationships between men and women.” She settled for honesty—choosing her words carefully, however. “Too many young ladies are unaware of what happens when they get married.” Her sexual experience, which had earned her society’s condemnation, would now be used to help women who were deliberately kept ignorant learn about marital relations. Her role had been elevated, her purpose there expanding to one where she actually contributed.
Harlow released a wistful sigh. “I cannot wait to be part of the Mismatch Society.”
“Someday,” Annalee said. “Now, run along before you miss all the fun.”
“I’ll come back, though,” Harlow promised. “Because . . . because . . .” Just like that, her smile faded.
Because it was one of the only times Annalee could steal with the girl. When she chose to live apart from her family, she’d found a freedom that saved her sanity but sacrificed the purest, most loving relationship she could ever hope to know. And yet it was the spirits and wild nights and mindless distractions which had also kept her sane. A wave of melancholy swept through her. Annalee scooted nearer her sister and looped an arm around her shoulders. “Come here.” She drew Harlow in close for a sideways hug.
The faintest little sniffling from Harlow hinted at her sister’s tears. “I’m staying,” she whispered.
“You will not.” Annalee squeezed her lightly. “There will be plenty more times for us to see one another, now that Jeremy and Sophrona are to be married. The formal dinner parties between our families. The wedding breakfast. The ceremony. The ball.” And as much as she’d rather pluck out her fingernails, and then toenails, with her teeth than suffer through family affairs, she’d happily do so if it allowed her time with Harlow. “Now go,” she urged. For all the joy Annalee found being with her sister, neither was she so selfish as to see the girl denied that which brought her happiness, just for her own pleasure.