The carriage doors finally closed behind them, shutting out the ballroom's brilliance and leaving the three Anderson women in the quiet of the night as it rolled away from the estate, its wheels striking the cobblestones in a steady rhythm. At the same time, the distant sounds of the ball gradually faded behind them.
Though the feeling remained. The carriage had barely begun its journey before Francesca turned toward her sister.
"You are certain you are all right?"
Penelope looked at her. She almost forgot she'd feigned being sick. "Yes."
Francesca frowned. "You have said that three times."
"Then perhaps you should believe me the third time." She said humorously.
She'd expected another humorous comeback, but instead, she received a worried look in return.
"I would, if you looked convincing," Francesca said. "You look rather worried,"
