14th January, 1889
Dearest Carmelina,
A fateful day it was, this Friday the 13th! I must express some envy for your position. The poltergeist set the inks on fire again. We had it out in record time. I might yet suffer my end from terminal boredom if the injustice of it all doesn’t crush me first.
Oh, Goodluck. To be fair, I doubt Lucky is capable of dying from embarrassment. A little more sisterly embarrassment will do him good. He wrote me griping about some girl haranguing his masculinity. Something about his gloves? Does he skip on the gloves, too? Goodness. I hope he hasn’t passed on anything worse than a bad case of gossip. Oh well. My hands are clean. Has Joss been well? Do you still have cookies from mum? I’m fresh out. Truly a worse day than the 13th for that.
Enclosed is a gift I have been meaning to remember to give you for some time now.
With love and luck but not at Goodluck's expense (though truly he has some luck and height to spare!),
Duke
Folded neatly is a pair of fawn-colored gloves. If Carmelina had happened in the local tailor’s but the day before, she might notice said pair of fawn-colored gloves gone.