Duainfey Read Online Free

wine glass and looked up at the pale ceiling.
    "He's a tall man," he said slowly, "tops me by a hand or two. Slender for his height—you know how Fey are."
    "How should we?" Rebecca asked, interested despite herself. " We don't go to the Boundary to trade, and I was an infant when Mother's Fey lady came to call."
    Dickon met her eyes. "True enough. Say then that he's tall and slender, sharp-faced, but with a good, strong nose."
    "His hair?" Caroline asked, when he paused. "Is it yellow, like mine?"
    "Yellow, oh, aye," Dickon returned slowly; "you might call it yellow—but not like yours, Lady Caro. And his eyes—you see I anticipate your next question!—you might say that his eyes are a pale brown. His coat—attend me now, Mother—was tawny, and his breeches rust colored, his boots polished so high I could see Ferdy reflected in them."
    "What did he say?" Caroline demanded. "Was his voice sweet on the ear?"
    "Really, Caroline," Mother said. "Such inquisitiveness!"
    Her sister lifted her chin. "Why should I not know what this Fey lord is like?" she asked defiantly. "How if I meet him in the village?"
    "Caroline!" Their mother was clearly shocked, but Dickon only raised an eyebrow.
    "Looking to attach the Fey, Lady Caro?" he drawled, and Rebecca looked at him sharply. "I'd be careful with that one, were I the Earl's second daughter."
    "Oh, pooh!" Caroline returned scornfully. "I'm not such a goose as Rebecca. And why shouldn't I look to a Fey lord? I may marry where I will."
    It was hardly one of Caroline's sharpest barbs, but it cut, nonetheless. Rebecca closed her eyes, and her left hand clenched into a weak fist on her lap.
    "Caroline, such self-consequence is hardly becoming," Mother said sharply. "Your father has made an unexceptional marriage for your sister, and you may hope that he does as well for you."
    "I may hope that he does immensely better for me!" Caroline answered roundly. "I am not ruined and crippled into the bargain. It's a wonder Father found anyone to take Rebecca. Even an old man in need of funds might be expected to have some sensibilit—"
    "That will do!" Dickon bellowed, making the china dance on the table. "You are distempered!"
    Rebecca's eyes flew open in shock. Her brother's nature was impetuous, but to shout at one of his sisters over the dinner board? Mother would surely have his—
    "I believe your brother is correct," Mother said coolly. "Your nerves are in disorder. Pray retire to your room and compose yourself. I will be up presently to hear how you mean to make amends to your sister."
    Caroline lifted her chin. "I needn't make amends for speaking the truth," she said, but the effect was spoilt by the quaver in her voice.
    "Perhaps not," Mother returned implacably. "But the way in which the truth was spoken—for that, you owe much. You are excused, Caroline."
    It appeared for a moment that the Beauty would argue the point. Her usually pale cheeks were stained red, her eyes flashing fire. But that fiery stare faltered and fell before Mother's cool, dismissive glance. She bundled her napkin onto the table and rose with a mumbled, "Excuse me," which went unacknowledged by both her parent and her brother.
    Rebecca, the goose—the cripple —Rebecca waited until her sister was decently out the door before she placed her own napkin on the table and pushed her chair back.
    "If I may be excused," she murmured, keeping her eyes modestly on her plate. "I would like to walk in the garden before the moon goes down."
    "Now, Becca—" Dickon began, and—
    "Of course," Mother said, somehow managing to override him without raising her voice. "You missed your walk this afternoon, I know. Take your shawl—and remember to come bid me goodnight before you retire."
    "Yes . . ." she murmured and got hastily to her feet, deliberately not meeting her brother's eyes. "Good evening, Dickon."
    " 'Evening, love," he said softly. "Bold heart wins all, Becca."
    It was an old joke, and she smiled for it as she