Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

She laughed, simply couldn’t help herself. “I found when I was a little girl I detested periods for the simple reason that a period signals the end, and who wants to be forced to end when one is speaking witticisms? I recall my father telling me this from my earliest years.

“I have been wondering which of us has the whiter skin, sir. I have always found a mash of strawberries and a drop of lemon to be efficacious. What do you use?”

“Since we live in England, a land whose climate is as soggy as its morals, I do not have to think of it overly. However, when the sun chances to show itself, I become very fond of shade trees.”

“The chestnut?”

“I find the oak to be superior, ah, except there is the willow, the royalty of shade trees, I have found. Unfortunately, the willow prefers to hang about country ponds, so it is difficult.”

“So you laze about beneath willow trees and chew on

water reeds?”

“I much prefer lazing about at midnight. Now, I believe I must dance with the young lady.”

Roxanne watched him bow over Sophie’s hand, gracefully draw her from Corinne’s side. He arched an eyebrow at Corinne.

Corinne, horrified, said, “But you are not the right one, my lord. It is Julian—” No hope for it. Corinne shut her mouth. She saw Lorelei was frowning ferociously, and that brought a complacent nod.

Roxanne watched Devlin Monroe and Sophie walk to the dance floor. She hadn’t realized Devlin Monroe was as tall as his uncle. Even though he was more Sophie’s age, she could not approve of him, either. He was a hedonist, the sort she couldn’t abide, and a poseur, what with his dead white face. Willow trees! But he was amusing, and he had indeed sharpened his wit on her. He would give Sophie experience in dealing with a quick-witted gentleman. Surely there was no harm in him. She said, “It is rather warm in here. I think I fancy some of that lovely punch.” As she lifted her hand to take a crystal flute, filled to the top with the moral-wrecking punch, Julian lightly placed his hand over hers, gave her a small bow. “Miss Radcliffe, will you dance with me?”

“Hmm. Punch or a waltz?” She laughed, placed her white hand on his black-coated arm, and off they went to the dance floor.

He said in her ear, “You do not wish to indulge in the punch, ma’am. It is rumored ladies quickly lose their moral compass with but one glass.”

“Really? And gentlemen? How many glasses does it require for a gentleman to lose his moral compass?”

“Nary a one.”

“Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to be rendered insensible to the mayhem brewing between your mother and the duchess.”

“I have been gone from England for three years. I return to find nothing changed. I have never seen them come to blows, though I think they might both enjoy it.” He took her into his arms and swept her into large spinning circles.

“Oh, this is lovely.” And Roxanne laughed, twirled, swirled in great circles, and admired how they never crashed into other couples, so good was he at steering her aright. Yes, a man was needful for a waltz.

Corinne stared after them, aware that Lorelei was looking at her with steel in her eyes. “You will not fob that creature off on Devlin. She is a nobody, I doubt not, and too tall. Do you hear me?”

Corinne turned to ask with great interest, “Why do you think she’s a creature and a nobody?”

Lorelei retrenched. “You wouldn’t want a pig in a poke for your precious son, now, would you? I see it all now. This girl is an heiress.”

“That is an interesting conclusion, Lorelei. Do you really think that is true?”

“Ha, you do not fool me. Who is she? I have never heard of a Wilkie before of any account at all. Where is she from?”

Corinne smiled. “Perhaps she is a creature, perhaps she is a nobody, a veritable adventuress who will wed with your son. Wouldn’t that be something?”

“How old is she?”

“I forget.”

“I do not like this, Corinne. You are toying with me, and all of it with a false smile. Were I that girl’s mother, I would be chagrined at her behavior.”

“Be happy, then, that you are not,” Corinne said, flicked her fingers at her mortal enemy, and walked to greet a longtime friend. She had a fancy to waltz herself, and Amelia always surrounded herself with eligible gentlemen. Surely there would be a gentleman to please her, dance and flirt with her, and ply her with glasses of the lovely punch.

8

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