The Winter Bride (A Chance Sisters Romance) Read Free Page B

with her, returning in the night, vivid, intense and horribly real. Even now, the acid bile of panic—and shame—scalded her throat.
    She took a sip of water from the glass by the bed. Nothing would wash away those memories; the dreams would keep them fresh.
    She rocked gently in the chill gray dawn, contemplating her options. There weren’t many. She knew what was stirring up the dreams.
    She couldn’t go on. She had to stop it now, before it went any further. The sooner the better.
    She broke it to Jane after luncheon when they were getting ready for a drive in the park.
    “Not make your come-out?” Jane dropped the pelisse she was about to put on and stared at her in shock. “But why? It’s what we always dreamed of.”
    “You dreamed, Jane, not me.” Damaris picked up the pelisse and handed it to Jane. “Now get dressed, Mr. Monkton-Coombes will be here any minute.”
    Jane didn’t move. “But why would you not want to make your come-out, Damaris? It’ll be such fun—new dresses and dances and balls and routs and—”
    Damaris shook her head. “I can’t do it, Jane. I just can’t.”
    “Can’t what?” asked Daisy as she entered the bedchamber. She was carrying a half-finished pelisse. “Try this on before you go out, will you, Damaris? I want to make sure the sleeves are right before I finish it off.”
    Damaris removed her warm winter pelisse and slipped on the almost completed garment. Made in Daisy’s distinctive mix of old and new fabrics, it was light, intended for spring or summer wear.
    “Oh, it’s lovely, Daisy,” Damaris exclaimed. She touched the contrasting brocade collar and cuffs, currently only pinned on. “These are from one of Lady Beatrice’s old gowns, aren’t they? I remember the embroidered birds, so pretty and still looking so fresh—the colors are so clear and bright. And the contrast of the different fabrics—I would never have thought to put these together but it’s perfect. You have such an eye.” She stood before the mirror, admiring the elegant fall of the pelisse, while Daisy frowned in concentration and repinned one of the cuffs.
    “It’s beautiful, all right,” Jane said, “and you’re very clever, Daisy. But it’s going to be wasted on Damaris.”
    “Hmmph?” Daisy looked up, frowning, her mouth full of pins.
    “She says she’s not going to make her come-out.”
    “Hmm-mmph?” Daisy didn’t take the pins from her mouth but let her eyebrows do the talking.
    “I’m sorry,” Damaris said. “I just can’t bear the thought of it.”
    “Bear the thought of what?” Jane asked. “A come-out is fun.”
    Daisy gave Damaris a long, considering look, then shrugged and returned to her pinning.
    “I’m sorry to have disappointed you both.” Damaris
hated
letting people down. It was just . . . she couldn’t do it. The dread had been growing, day by day, and this morning, when she woke with the familiar feeling of sick apprehension, she knew she had to say something. It was better to let everyone know now, several months before the season started. Surely.
    “But why? I still don’t understand,” Jane persisted. “Is it because of the brothel? Because you were only there a few days longer than me, not quite a week, and—”
    “It’s not the brothel,” Damaris said. She hadn’t told anyone what had happened before the brothel, not even her sisters. And she never would.
    “I should say not,” Jane said. “It wasn’t our fault, and I refuse to let my life be less because of what that evil man tried to do to us. And so should you.”
    “It’s
not
because of the brothel.” The pinning complete, Damaris carefully eased off the pelisse and handed it to Daisy, then shrugged herself into her winter one again.
    “The false name then?” Jane persisted. “I know your parents were missionaries—”
    “My father was. And no, it’s not the false name—though heaven knows how Lady Beatrice is going to explain—”
    “Explain what?” The