Abberton House was constantly flowing with activities. The four wings enclosed the courtyard that, in itself, was teeming with life. Of all kinds—crawling, slithering, flying. Whenever the gates to the courtyard were open, which was also the only way to the front doors, anyone might spot an animal or two crossing it to get to the back side of the manor, or staying for a few hours for a nap or a taste of the bushes.

But animals were not the only ones enjoying the Abberton courtyard. Servants, neighbors, and sometimes even strangers, pass through it as it was the easiest way to get to many parts of the manor, particularly the back garden. The strangers were mostly merchants hoping to sell something (bread, milk, meat, candies, cakes, toys, fabrics, and even entertainment).

One very important purpose of the courtyard was to house gossip. Eighteen-year-old Simone and seventeen-year-old Lydia were in the courtyard doing just that with their friends and neighbors, the Poppet sisters Bridget and Charity. Both sisters had red hair, and both were nearly the same age as the two Stratfords. Their current gossip, of course, was the Poppets' eldest sister, Arabella, who, at one-and-twenty, was not only unmarried, but was left on the altar two days ago.

"We never saw it coming," Bridget said. "Ara has not said anything."

"Perhaps she is still in shock," said Simone. "She was completely distraught in the chapel."

"Terrible. I saw the blood drain down her face."

"Thank goodness Lord Harry was there to catch her when she fainted," Bridget said.

"I heard her crying the whole night," Charity said. "Mama tried to open her door, but she did not want to see anyone."

"So we left her alone until the morning," Bridget continued.

"And what would you know," Charity said, leaning closer, "She woke up for breakfast all pretty and dressed as if nothing happened!"

Simone and Lydia looked at each other. "But surely she must feel terrible inside."

"We wouldn't know. It truly doesn't show." Charity sighed. "Oh, if I could only get my hands on that brute."

"Mr. Haskett seemed such a charming man," Lydia said.

"Apparently, he's also a scoundrel," Bridget heatedly retorted. "Now, I worry about Ara. I don't think she can ever trust anyone again."

"You know, if your brother only offered for her," Charity said, looking at Simone. "We would be sisters-in-law by now."

Simone and Lydia laughed. Oh, how they once fancied Arabella with Webster, but the pair had no interest in becoming a pair.

"Or we could manipulate Harry and they could marry," came Gale's voice. He threw his leather gloves at Simone and Lydia before narrowing his eyes at the two Poppets. "It's too early for gossips, Prophets."

Since they were children, Gale and one of Simone's older brother, Price, had always called the Poppets Prophets, particularly Bridget and Charity.

Simone threw his gloves back at him. "We're not gossiping."

"Of course, you are."

"Gale, you know Mr. Haskett, don't you?" Bridget asked. "Have you seen him?"

"Of course," Gale said. "Was out riding with him just now."

The two Poppets jumped to their feet.

"He's not serious," Simone said. "That's not a good joke, Gale."

"My bad," he said, bowing to their friends. "I'm off to breakfast." To his cousins, he said, "You should be packing by now."

"Too eager to return to Coulway, Gale?" chided Lydia. "You must miss Pauline."

"Ha-ha! Funny, that is, Lydia," he said, walking away.

"Grandpapa wants to ask if it's you who let the bear in earlier!" Simone called out.

"No, I did not."

"You were the first to get out!"

"Not the first to open the gates!"

Simone sighed.

"Another bear came through?" Bridget asked, looking around the courtyard.

"A brown one. Roxie saw it."

"Roxie has a wild imagination. I'm certain it was just a rabbit," Lydia said.

"Roxie is old enough to know that a bear is far larger than a rabbit."

"Now, ladies," said Charity, extending a hand, "Before the argument between which animal is which begins, Bridget and I came here for a favor."

"What favor?" they chorused.

"We heard that Mr. Haskett may have gone off to Coulway."

"And you want us to find him?"

"Yes."

"So he could marry Arabella?" Simone asked. "But why? Him running off should mean he isn't worth it. If this is about her reputation, then I believe it's going to be just fine."

"No, we want him found so he could return my sister's dowry."

"Oh."

"Papa has already paid it to the ba—" Bridget clamped her mouth. "Sorry. As I was saying, Papa has already given it to him. And his family has already disappeared out of shame."

"Or because they cannot afford to pay what their son stole," added Charity.

"Why would he run away with the dowry of the woman he ran away from?" Lydia asked.

"He's a scoundrel, Lydia," Simone said, squeezing Bridget's hand. "We will try to find him."

"It would be of great help. We..." Bridget's voice faltered. "The farms have not been doing well. Papa will need the money back."

"Of course. You can count on us," Simone reassured. "Right, Lydia? We'll spend the season in Coulway searching for him if we have to. In fact, we'll ask for my brothers' help. Damon and Price will join us in Coulway as our companions this season."

Charity sighed. "I can only hope to have my own season."

"Perhaps we can ask Harry to sponsor all of you next season!" Lydia said. "Isn't that right, Sisi?"

"Of course!"

The two Poppets shook their heads. "Oh, no. Papa wouldn't be able to afford us dowries that would satisfy a rich gentleman in Coulway."

"But if it's true love, the man will not care for dowries," Simone said. "He would take whatever you can give. You should be enough for the right one."

"We'll be fine," said Bridget. "We love it here in Abberton."

"Or Dafield," Lydia said. "Or Parlton!"

"Yes," the two sisters chorused. "Or a pirate. I've always wanted to meet one," added Charity.

The three of them laughed and went on to have biscuits and tea in the parlor. Not long after, Simone and Lydia were packing for another season in Coulway.

***

A year ago, Simone debuted along with Lydia. It was a magnificent season for them both, but nothing they had not anticipated. The Stratford men had already spoiled them of everything they should expect, from the gowns to the food and music. Even the latest gossips. It was to prepare them for the worse, they said, but truly, it was just so they did not act so naive and gullible.

Their grandfather accompanied them in their first three balls, but soon after retired to their villa in Picadilly to spend more time with his two little angels, Roxie and Freda, who were both growing up to be worse than the jungle trio, Simone, Lydia, and Gale.

Well, there was also Price, but he was the one who named them, so he was technically not part of the trio. He was the bloody mastermind as Gale would put it every time they were punished for something they did, which they only did because Price suggested or planned it.

Price was only a year older than Simone, but nevertheless more protective, especially when they were not home in Abberton. Like this season, where he and Damon were tasked to be the guards because Gale was either easily manipulated to be a part of any recklessness, or he was the planner of said recklessness. Damon's role, of course, was to be an extra eye just in case Price assumed his mastermind role.

Simone jumped out of the carriage and into Damon's arms. Her brother chuckled and put her down, ruffling her hair. "Where's your ugly ribbon?"

"They've long retired," she said, kissing his cheek. Turning to Price, she squealed, "Price!" wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Ow, ow, Sisi, my neck," he complained, pulling away after she showered him with kisses.

Lydia was giving Damon a hug, and blocking Price's attempt to tug on her hair, she proceeded to the utmost business at hand, which was to ask for their help in finding Mr. Haskett.

"Good heavens, Lydia, can we first go inside?" Gale asked, brushing past Damon to wrap an arm around Price in a playful wrestle. "What have you been up to?" he asked. "Come on, tell me—have you met someone lovely while I'm away?"

"You children always forget you're carrying an old baggage," their grandfather said from inside the carriage.

Damon laughed and reached his hand inside to help the man out. The two little angels, Roxie and Freda, jumped right after, collecting hugs and a few circles in the air from Damon and Price, before running up the stairs and into the villa to find the playroom.

Simone planted a kiss on her grandfather's cheek, saying, "We never forget about you, Grandpapa. You're saving the best for last, aren't you, Damon?"

"Of course," Damon said, guiding their grandfather up the stairs. "He's worth a bloody fortune."

With a laugh, they all reached the front doors. Inside, Simone could hear Lydia calling out to Damon, asking him to join them in the parlor. And where was Simone?

"I'm here!" she shouted, pausing at the top of the stairs, watching the villa next door. She smiled and stepped through the threshold of the doorway.

***

The first order of business the very next day was to track down Mr. Haskett. Damon, of course, was the most reliable one. Merely a year younger than Arabella, he considered the woman a dear friend like Harry did. And to hear that she was left at the altar by the man, he did not need more convincing in tracking the runaway groom.

"He might attempt to get out of Sutherland, Damon says," Simone informed Pauline as they were having tea. "And the only way to get out of Sutherland is through a ship."

Pauline's eyes mirrored understanding. "Perhaps one of the ships your brothers own."

"Exactly," Simone said, sipping tea.

"I don't think it's wise to tell her everything, Sisi," Gale wryly said, waving a hand at Pauline. They were back in the Paragon Exchange with Lydia who was currently shopping art supplies in one store.

"Pauline is an excellent source of information," she murmured through her teeth.

"And why not? I never divulge such sensitive information," Pauline said in response to Gale's sentence.

"Well, sometimes, Pauline, you get carried away," Gale said. "Do you remember that time I specifically asked you not to tell Ms. Blanchet you saw me?"

"That was a different matter," Pauline said. "You asked me to lie, Gale. That's different. I never lie."

"Are you trying to convince me that all your gossips are true?"

"Not all of them are gossips!"

"Then what are they?"

Pauline was about ready to cry, her beautiful face crumpling as she pursed her lips, tears welling her eyes. "They're information I would otherwise not divulge if no one is interested."

"Well, I'm always not," Gale wryly said.

"Well, you should have told me so I could make certain you don't hear," Pauline said, voice shaking.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because you make me angry—and that's information." Pauline looked at Simone. "Why do you even bring him here?"

"He insisted," said Simone.

"I thought you said your brothers are here to be your companions?"

"Well, they are, but they're out now to help find Mr. Haskett."

Pauline sniffled, blotting her unshed tears with the back of one finger while throwing Gale a sharp look. "I'll try to find information on the man. I'm certain if he's on the run and traveling, and with the money he stole from his poor bride, he would most certainly spend lavishly on new clothes."

"Thank you, Pauline. My family and our friends will be terribly grateful."

"You're welcome," Pauline said, now completely ignoring Gale. "Have I told you that Mr. Cavendish has a new play?"

Simone's face broke into a bright smile. "He does?"

"Yes. They're selling tickets."

"Oh, marvelous!" Simone said, clapping her hands. "Thank you for the information, Pauline," she said, throwing Gale a look.

"Oh, it's nothing. Would you like to see Mama now? I'm certain she has information on the current fashion trend."

"Oh, good Lord," Gale groaned. "You'll never let me forget, are you?"

Pauline's face hardened. "No."

***

That night, Simone was writing letters to Bridget and Charity, updating them of their promising quest, when she heard a clearing of throat. She looked behind her, thinking it might be Damon, but her door was closed. She faced the window again and there he was, just as she last saw him two years ago, smiling at her.

"Mr. Cavendish," she said, breaking into a wide grin. And before she could think, she said, "It's me, Simone. Remember?"

He chuckled. "Of course, I remember. You've been sending me letters, silly." He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame of his window. "You told me a month ago you were coming back to Picadilly."

"Yes, of course, I did." She could not believe it. He was here. Last year, he was somewhere in Strait for a play. "You did not tell me you'd be here this season."

"I wanted to surprise you," he said, scratching the back of his head. Simone smiled, believing now that it was a habit of his.

"Well, I'm surprised. I bought tickets to your play, by the by."

"Are you old enough to watch?"

"Well, of course! I'm now eighteen."

"A young lady."

She nodded, grateful that she had somehow retained the flair of being one from one of the lessons she and Lydia had to suffer in the past. She wanted to ask him many things about his plays, his friends he talked about, the nasty actors and directors he worked with.

"Well, I'm glad you got tickets. Our shows in Coulway are ending soon."

"Why?"

"Well, because the more famous ones have secured the theaters for the season."

"What?"

He frowned. "Didn't I write it in my last letter? I must have missed it."

"Missed what?"

"That we're a traveling play. It means we're moving on to the next city in four days."

And just like that, her exciting season did not seem so exciting anymore.