Before the full weight of Duchess Lyra's threat could settle in the tense, quiet room, Anne stood up. With a movement that was full of a practiced, well planned grace, she went and knelt on the floor in front of Delia.
"Sister," she began, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. "Can you please forgive me, just this once?"
Delia looked down at her, her own expression a mask of cold, weary disbelief. "What?"
"Duke Eric," Anne continued, her eyes now welling up with large, dramatic tears. "He was the first man I have ever truly loved. When you jumped in and took him away from me, it made me so angry, so full of a pain I did not know how to handle." Fat, glistening tears began to stream down her beautiful face. "I had no idea how you, my own sister, could do such a thing to me."
Delia rolled her eyes, completely uninterested in the pathetic, false scene that was playing out before her.
