As you said, I'm a very good brother. That one statement sealed the decision for Simone. Daniel Cavendish would never be interested in a girl that reminded him of his sisters. Perhaps she should treat him the same. He was not the only man out there. She was still young and would soon blossom to a lady. By then, she could meet more men like him. Even better men. Men who would see her as a lady.

Yes, that's what she should do, she thought as she lay in bed, flushed with fever. The bird was alive and had not left her room. Gale, too, she assumed, seeing him sleeping in a chair, his legs propped on her bed. "Gale," she called out, voice cracking. She nudged. "Gale."

His eyes opened. And as he realized she was awake, he dropped his leg and jumped on the bed to plant his hand on her forehead. "You're still burning," he sleepily said, reaching for the bell.

"I'm fine," she lied.

"No, you're not. You're so pale, Sisi."

She watched him roll his shirt up to his elbows, brow furrowed. She could not tell if he was angry or worried, but that's the thing about Gale. He could be annoying most of the time, but he was also the sweetest. That's why Simone and Lydia liked his company the most, although they may pretend to not to. "Where's Lydia? She said she'll sleep here," she asked.

"Out painting your portrait. She started crying and said you may not live long enough to see it."

She groaned and chuckled at the same time. "Make sure my brows are perfect. She usually gets them wrong."

Gale's shoulders shook as he wrung a cloth over the basin. "I shouldn't be laughing. She was quite inconsolable, you know." He placed the cold towel over her forehead, covering her brows. "You will do well without your brows," he said, playfully flicking her nose.

She weakly slapped his hand away. "I'm hungry."

"Good!" He jumped to his feet when a servant walked in. "Bring Sisi something to eat, please." When they were alone again, he went back to her side and whispered, "Harry's home."

Her eyes widened. "He knows I'm sick?"

"Yes."

"Does he know why?"

Gale winced. "I had to tell him."

Simone groaned. "Gale, you promised!"

"Everybody knows, Sisi. They've been bombarding me with questions for two days." He reached for her hand. "I'm sorry. I should have been home."

"That's fine."

"But you should have not gone out."

"And left the bird?"

His eyes went to the bird who had transferred to the windowsill. Then he sighed. "I tried to reason the bird, but you know Harry."

"He's not pleased?"

"Well, of course! You walked in the rain, in the middle of the night, with—" He leaned over and nearly hissed, "—our neighbor!"

She groaned, closing her eyes. "What are the chances I won't survive this fever?"

"Not fairly high, I'm afraid. You're hungry. It means you're likely to live and face his wrath."

"And what would be his wrath? Has he told you?" Many times in the past, they had seen many of Harry's wrath, as Lydia would call them. And it was always the four of them—Simone, Lydia, Price, and Gale. Price was just lucky he was not here. But then, if he was, this would not have happened. He always had the best plans.

And their offenses were always committed in Abberton. To do something reckless here in Coulway was different because Harry only had two golden rules: No stupidities in Coulway. No scandals.

"Well?" Simone asked again. "What am I facing once I get out of my deathbed?"

Gale winced again.

"Gale, what is it?"

He bit his lip and then broke into a smile. "We're going home, Sisi."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Home to Abberton. With everything—our trip to the theater, your adventure in the rain—Harry is cutting our season short."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Home to Abberton?"

He nodded.

"But you were enjoying the season."

"Well, I was actually getting bored with Price not being here." He straightened, hands on his hips. "Now, Harry might come by later. You might as well attempt a look of horrid disappointment."

Simone, of course, did not have to feign disappointment. After Gale left her alone with her thoughts, she realized she would miss a few things if they left early. One, was their new friend Pauline. Two, the trips to the Paragon Exchange. And finally, the lessons she was getting for free from Mrs. Baker.

If only Daniel Cavendish did not walk with her! If only she had secured the door before rescuing the bird.

She groaned, thinking about Harry walking into her room to deliver his wrath. He did so that evening the moment he got word that Simone was up and a little healthier.

The Stratford cousins all had brown hair, some in lighter shade, others darker; some curly, others wavy or straight. Once, the earl said that their temperaments could be easily based on their hair. Lydia, for example, had curly, light brown hair. The color mirrored her sunny personality, and the curls were just like her constantly changing moods, which could spiral up or down, depending on the weather or the people around her.

Harry, the future Earl of Abberton, had straight, dark brown hair. He wore it with pride, brushing it up over his forehead. It was untouchable. His valet was proud to say that he was the only one who, apart from his lordship, could touch the hair. Harry, of course, like Web, could be quite sweet. He showered them with gifts and he could throw a good joke now and then. But there was always a fine line between cousin Harry and future earl Harry. Sometimes, he could also be quite deceiving. Just like now.

He walked into Simone's room, hands in the pockets of his trousers, brown hair perfectly brushed over his forehead. His white cravat was as pristine as she last saw them, his black coat without a wrinkle. And he was smiling.

"How are you feeling?"

Like jumping off the window, she wanted to answer, but said, "Better."

"Good."

"Well, a little dizzy," she added for security. He might think she was well enough to take some scolding.

"Dizzy," he repeated in an almost amused tone. Walking closer to her bed, his eyes flew to the window, the one that faced Daniel Cavendish's, then landed on her desk. "But not dizzy enough to be writing letters, I assume."

"I'm writing letters to friends."

"Hm."

"To tell them I'm leaving," she said.

"Is that the bird?"

"Yes."

He nodded, looking down at her in bed. She held her breath until he took the seat Gale occupied earlier. "Sisi, you know why I have to send you all back to Abberton."

She bent her head. "I know. It's all my fault. I'm sorry for being careless."

"You were deliberately careless—at least for the most part," he added when her head snapped in retaliation. "You deliberately went to the theater," he said, cocking a brow.

Oh, he was talking about the theater accident. "Well, yes. And Web already punished us for it," she murmured.

"And you sent our neighbor a letter."

"With good intentions," she reasoned. "He was being loud at night."

He frowned. "Loud how?"

She told him about the banging and the crying actress. By the time she was done, Harry was shaking his head, lips pursed in contained laughter that she did not understand until many years later. "Still, you could have told someone. It's not proper to send letters to young gentlemen."

"I didn't know that. Everybody in Abberton does it."

"You would if your tutors had been teaching you anything," he said. "This is not Abberton, Sisi."

"Our tutors had been teaching us far more interesting things than those, for sure," she retorted.

Harry massaged his temple. "Web will not be pleased if he hears of this."

She blinked in surprise. "Then you have not told him yet?"

"No," he said, "but I eventually have to."

"You don't have to."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "You were sick, Sisi. I have to."

"Is that why you're not scolding me now? So he could?"

"Web will not do anything if you give him one of your bloody puppy eyes, Sisi," he said with a sigh. "But Damon might."

"Damon will dig a hole, drop a bed there before throwing me inside with a basket of pies from Mrs. Poppet."

The corner of his lips quirked. "I can imagine him doing so."

Simone groaned. Damon had curly, dark brown hair. His temperament was dark, silent, and eccentric. "Then can you postpone telling them until we're back in Abberton? I'd prefer the hole be located there."

Harry stood and looked down at her. "This is no laughing matter, Sisi. What you did was—"

"Irresponsible and definitely not proper for a young lady, I know."

"No, what you did was very dangerous."

"I also realize that now."

"And even if Mr. Cavendish is Web's friend, he is still—"

"Not family."

"Precisely." This time, Harry's tone was different. It hardened as he continued, "The moment you return to Abberton, you cannot go out of the manor for a month."

Her eyes rounded. "A month!"

"Yes. No climbing out the windows, no sneaking out of any doors."

"What about my bedroom door?"

"I said you can't go out of the manor, Sisi, not your bedroom. But no visit to the courtyard. No climbing on the deck." He stepped back and continued with a litany of things she was not allowed to do, obviously enjoying the horror on her face. "No visitors, especially the Poppets. No animals."

"No animals! But that's—you know the animals just walk in and out, Harry. Surely, I could not just ignore them."

"You will also help the children learn their alphabets," Harry continued. "It's time they learn a few lessons about being proper humans. And no writing letters for you other than the girls' alphabets."

She sagged back in bed. "You're being terrible, Harry."

"Then do you prefer Damon's hole?"

Groaning, she rolled her face into the pillow. Damon would do worse than Harry's wrath. "No."

"We're set then." On the way to the door, he stopped. "And before I forget, Lydia will also be punished."

"But she did not know I was going out. She was painting."

"She knew you wrote our neighbor a letter, and she was with you and Gale in the theater."

"But—"

"And Gale shall also be punished."

"Can you at least tell them I tried to take their punishments?"

This time, Harry chuckled. "Quite funny, Sisi."

***

That evening, Simone was well enough to pack her writing articles. While sitting in front of her desk, she stared at the bird whom she named Mr. Peck. "Why aren't you flying away?" she asked. "You seem well now."

The bird tilted its head at her, as if trying to understand.

"You'll like Abberton," she said with a sigh, bending over the desk, resting her head on her hand.

"Are you feeling well?" the voice asked.

She straightened in her chair and found Daniel Cavendish smiling at her from his window. "Yes. Thank you for asking."

His eyes flew to the bird. "And the bird as well?"

"Yes, but it won't fly."

He nodded. "Are you writing letters?"

"No, actually. I'm packing."

"Packing?"

"We're going home to Abberton."

He did not immediately answer. He considered her for a moment before slowly nodding. "Abberton is a very nice place."

"Have you been there, Mr. Cavendish?"

"Yes, of course. I grew up in Dafield."

"You did! Abberton is just between Dafield and Parlton."

"I know."

"Of course, you do," she grinned. "Well, perhaps you can come and visit us when you get the time."

The smile on his lips wavered for a second before he forced them back. "Perhaps I will."

She cleared her throat and awkwardly looked at her stacked papers. "Can I still send you letters?"

"Yes, of course. Tell me all about your adventures back in Abberton. I have heard amazing stories from Web back in Butler."

"And I hope you can also share your adventures with the theater," she replied. "I wish you the best, Mr. Cavendish. I hope you get more roles and act in more plays. No, I know you'll get more roles and more plays. It's only a matter of time."

"You do?"

"Of course. I know a master when I see one. And you master your craft. It's all there in your face when you're on the stage."

His smile widened, his brown eyes twinkling.

"I hope you don't lose it."

"Lose what?"

She paled. She did not realize she voiced it out. Oh, balderdash. She was leaving. Why should she care if she said something stupid? "The sparkle in your eyes. I hope you never lose it, Mr. Cavendish. It speaks of an entire world uniquely yours."

He did not laugh at her words. In fact, he scratched his head, seemingly shy. "I will try my best."

She had nothing further to say. At that moment, she just wanted the best for him. And she also hoped, if time would be good to her, they might meet again. Nothing more. Just that they'd meet again and fate could just have its way.