LITMIR.BIZ

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the hallway, engrossed in loud conversation.

      Nan stood with her bonnet dangling uselessly from one hand. “Now I’ll never get the chance,” she muttered fiercely.

      “I beg your pardon?” John drew closer to her side. She looked both angry and deflated.

      Nan turned to him, as though surprised he was still there. “I had rather hoped to speak to my sisters about a pressing matter of business, but it appears I will have no opportunity to do so.”

      He offered her his elbow. “Perhaps we should join them?”

      Nan shook her head and cast her bonnet onto the polished mahogany table nearby. “You may go in without me. I need a moment to collect myself.”

      “You really should allow yourself to have more fun, you know,” he chided gently. “Why not talk about business matters some other time?”

      Nan rounded on him, her blue eyes darkening to black. “Fun? If my business crashes because the village shopkeeper has hired a French milliner, do you know what kind of fun I shall have? I shall be nothing. I’ll be reduced to the status of spinster aunt, living in one of my sisters’ homes. This has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with my perceived lack of a personality, and everything to do with my sisters’ refusal to help me in my time of need!” She paused, drawing in her breath deeply.

      “Oh.” He felt like the worst sort of joker. Her anguish was real and profound and he had clumsily teased her at the worst possible time. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

      “Not unless you know how to keep a business from failing.” She offered him a wan smile. Her outburst seemed to have calmed her nerves. Her eyes lost some of their hunted look, and her movements were graceful and fluid once more. “I suppose we should go in,” she added with a sigh.

      He offered her his arm once again. “I promise I shall give your problem serious thought. Perhaps I can come up with a solution. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

      She took his arm, her fingers resting lightly on the crook of his elbow. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not very nice to let a potential client know that your business may be on the verge of collapse,” she admitted. Her tone was neutral enough, but a thread of sadness ran through it.

      “Not at all,” he admitted. “If anything, I appreciate your honesty.”

      She glanced up at him, the tight lines in her face relaxing. She was a pretty thing in her own right. All these Siddons girls were lovely. Why was she so certain she was destined for spinsterhood? Her sisters had made brilliant matches of their own, even without a fortune or family to back them. Surely some fellow around here would take a second look at her.

      * * *

      Nan listlessly poked at the food on her plate as her dinner companions talked and joked around her. Everyone, even shy Jane, seemed to be enjoying themselves. Every time she took a bite, though, the chicken tasted like sawdust and a lump rose in her throat. If she couldn’t get her sisters’ attention long enough to discuss the problem of the French milliner, then she would have to go home and give vent to a good, long sob. No one knew about the tears that wet her pillow so often. She’d hidden the fact that she cried at night from her sisters for years, because someone had to be the practical one of the trio. Susannah would throw temper tantrums and Becky would go off on endless walks whenever trouble threatened. Nan would merely stuff her fears deep down inside and, after bedtime, allow the tears to slide down her cheeks unchecked until her pillowcase was damp.

      Thus she had gained the reputation of being stolid and unshakable when really, she just was terribly clever at hiding her hurts.

      “I do wish you’d eat more,” a smooth voice spoke up beside her. “You’ve hardly tasted anything all evening.”

      Nan flicked a glance over at John Reed, giving him a tiny smile. It was difficult to decipher his character. At the shop this morning, he’d been a dreadful tease and seemed to enjoy putting her on edge. On the other hand, his affection for Jane was genuine, and his offer to help when they were standing in the entry hall had an authentic ring to it. He was so handsome that she had to force herself to meet his gaze—something she’d made herself do when she was trying to convince him her shop was worthy of their business. Now, in the intimacy of a family dinner party, being so closely regarded by those brown eyes was well-nigh unendurable.

      “I believe it was Byron who said that a woman shouldn’t eat anything in public,” she rejoined. “I am merely following his dictates.”

      John laughed. “I find it very doubtful that someone with your strength of character would follow the edicts of any man.”

      She didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed. Her head ached and the lump simply wouldn’t stop choking her throat.

      “I know you are worried about your business, but have faith,” he rejoined. “I am certain we can find a solution to the problem if we simply ponder it.”

      “No one really wishes to ponder it,” Nan replied as lightly as she could manage. “But I do thank you for your offer.”

      Susannah rose, and with her, Becky and Jane stood. Placing her fork to one side, Nan followed suit. Now, perhaps, she would have a few moments to get her sisters’ attention.

      But as soon as they entered the parlor, Susannah turned conversation to Becky’s pregnancy. Nan sighed as she took her place beside Jane on the settee. As Susannah prattled on about nursemaids and physicians, Nan’s patience grew thinner and thinner. Becky had ample time to plan the circumstances of her first child’s birth, and more to the point, she had a right to choose how it happened without Susannah’s list of instructions.

      “Oh, do be quiet, Susannah,” Nan finally snapped. If she heard any more from her eldest sister, she’d not even make it home before she began crying in frustration.

      Becky and Susannah stared frankly at her, and Jane gave a pained little gasp. Regret tore at Nan’s heart. She’d hate for Jane to think ill of her, even if she was highly annoyed with her sisters.

      “I beg your pardon?” Susannah leveled her best glare at Nan, the one that had worked so many times before to bring Nan to heel.

      “I said, do be quiet,” Nan repeated. Now that she was in, she might as well muck on further. “It’s ridiculous to prattle on when Becky has loads of time to plan her child’s arrival. Let her be.”

      Becky breathed a little sigh of relief and cast a grateful glance Nan’s way. Perhaps she had grown weary of Susannah’s bossiness, as well.

      “There is a problem that’s more pressing than anything else at the moment, because it threatens the well-being of our business,” Nan continued, meeting Susannah’s gaze steadily. “The grocer has hired a French milliner and her work is cutting deeply into our profits.”

      “Is this all?” Susannah rested her back against the seat of the settee, arranging her skirts so they hung in graceful folds to the floor. “Surely one milliner won’t hurt the shop. Indeed, some competition could be good for business.”

      “I’ve only sold two bonnets in the past week.” On the one hand, it was humiliating to admit the truth. On the other, it was a bit of a relief to share how badly things were going. “You know that we usually do at least three times that much, even when things are slow.”

      “I don’t see how the new milliner can really be hurting your shop.” Becky’s subtle emphasis on your was not lost on Nan. If there was ever any doubt that the shop was hers alone to make a success of or not, this conversation was making the matter as clear as could be. “I am sure, as a Frenchwoman, her designs are quite smart. Your designs tend toward the practical, Nan. I am certain there is room for both in this village.”

      Tears pricked the back of Nan’s eyes. Once, the three sisters had braved the difficulties of life in Uncle Arthur’s home, as he squandered what was left of their small fortune. Later, their closeness had endured through Susannah’s courtship with

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