“He’s too handsome.”
“He’s my brother, isn’t he?”
The story of how the two brothers had been separated, raised in different countries, and reunited was a fascinating tale.
“Why hasn’t he married already?”
“Too busy working. He’s defending an accused murderess right now. He believes she’s innocent. He’s gaining quite the reputation for defending the unfortunate, those that might otherwise be written off by a judgmental society due to lack of connection.”
A respected advocate with noble goals and the gift of a silver tongue. And damnably good-looking and charming and... why should Dex care about that? Wasn’t his goal to marry her off, and quickly? It would be a brilliant match. It would fulfill all he felt he owed her father, ease the burden of his overdrawn conscience.
So why did he feel like murdering Patrick with his bare hands? The answer that followed was an unwelcome one. She’d been right. He was jealous. Which was ridiculous since he was complete unto himself, he needed no one. She was an obligation to meet, a promise to fulfill, and nothing more.
“Is there something between you and Miss Crewe?” Dalton asked.
Dex shook his head vehemently. “Nothing untoward.”
“I observed you walking about the room and it appeared to me that she takes every pretext to touch you. And you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from her, even during a conversation with your best friend.”
Dex returned his gaze to Dalton with a mighty effort. “She’s lost, lonely, and I’m the one who rescued her. I care about her safety and happiness.”
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
“She’s impossible to ignore. Yesterday she had my footmenfighting mock duels in the ballroom, all in the name of research for a novel she’s writing. My aunt threatened to quit the post of chaperone.”
“I like her already,” Dalton said. “She’s shaken you out of the fog you’ve been buried in since I met you. Perhaps she’ll be my sister-in-law. Thea would dearly love to see Patrick settled with a good woman.”
Dex grunted, not trusting himself to comment. What he felt like doing was striding across the room and punching Patrick square in his noble nose.
The duke’s gaze followed her as she moved about the gallery with Patrick Fellowes. It made her stand up straighter, sway her hips as she walked to make her skirts swish around her limbs. For some unaccountable reason, she wanted him to think her attractive.
“Your guardian is protective of you,” Patrick remarked. “He’s been glaring at me this entire time.”
“It took him years to find me—he’s trying to make up for lost time by vanquishing my foes, dowering me generously, and finding a brilliant match for me so that my future is assured.”
“Do you have many foes?”
“I’ve lived an... unconventional life since my father’s disappearance.”
“As have I. You may wonder about my accent—I was raised in New York by a man who kidnapped me as a young child. I didn’t know of my noble and British origins until recently.”
“Goodness! It sounds like the plot of a popular novel.” That could be quite a twist to throw into her Clovercote book.
“They do say that sometimes life is stranger than anything you find in fiction.”
“I’m told you have a child?”
“Van. He’s a good boy, a bit wild but that’s to be expected when his life was uprooted and transplanted to a foreign country. I haven’t seen him for twenty minutes—I expect he’s sword fighting with his friend Flor somewhere on the balconies.”
“I’d very much like to meet him. I have little experience with children and I’m writing a younger brother in my novel and finding it difficult to know how a child of nine might express himself.”
“Very exuberantly, if Van is the test case. He’s always chattering on about military campaigns, ancient weaponry, or the latest innovations in faster carriages. He admires his unofficially adopted uncle Warburton because he’s an expert in every topic that interests Van. I don’t know where he came by his intense interest in warfare. I’ve always been peaceable myself, preferring to pursue justice in the courtroom instead of the battlefield.”
Ana listened raptly, glad of the details for the child she was writing. “Thank you for that detail. I shall be able to write the younger brother character more fully now.”
“Another thing—don’t think it’s only male children who are interested in such bloody topics. His friend Flor is similarly obsessed, if not more so.”
“Is she?” While Ana enjoyed writing the character of Adora, Lady Claridge’s outline described her as mostly passive, a young lady who swooned at the slightest provocation and giggled frequently. Perhaps she should make her more like Amsonia, the heroine ofThe Dragon and the Blue Star. She tried to imagine Adora wielding a sword, or perhaps a small, ladylike dagger?