Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

Devlin slashed his umbrella through the air. “You will never be a diplomat, Julian, nor do you have my facility with words, which means you said exactly what you meant to say. I will be careful, I promise you. What I cannot grasp, knowing you as I do, is how he can believe you murdered your wife, his sister. Good Lord, Julian, he’s known you all your life. Surely he knows you would never harm a woman, much less your wife of six months.”

Julian’s voice was emotionless. “One deals with what one must. The sun is very bright today, Devlin. You are wise to hold the umbrella over your head.”

“You’re right. I don’t wish to take any chances. Now, about Richard Langworth—”

“No, I will say no more about it. I merely wished to warn you.” Julian turned to stare toward a large covered barge lumbering downriver in the distance. He wondered at the cargo. Something very heavy, mayhap something smuggled. It warmed his heart to think of goods coming into England with no excessive import duties.

“Good Lord,” Julian said, more to himself than to Devlin. “It was Richard who followed me to Saint Osyth. He’s the one I sensed was watching my men bringing in my goods.”

“You’ve already had a smuggling run? This soon?”

Julian shrugged. “I wanted to see if

it was still enjoyable. It was.”

“Then you will have to change your landing spot,” Devlin said. “You could ask me to go along, you know.” He saw Julian stiffen. “I see. You still think I’m a puling lad who has to be protected.”

“No, you are a future duke.”

“Wellington was already a duke when he fought at Waterloo. Had I been with you, I could have circled back and cornered Richard.”

Julian said nothing at all.

“Oh, to the Devil with you. Very well. Would you care to row Sophie Wilkie on the Thames? She asked me to row her, but the sun is very strong today. You know how the water reflects the harsh light on your face.”

Julian cocked a black brow. “My mother would be pleased to see me in the young lady’s company. But it is not to be—I will say it again, she is too young for me, and that’s the truth of it, but she appears a good sort, Devlin. You might consider doing the rowing of the young lady. Keep well covered, keep close to shore, and sing love songs to her. What do you think?”

“Perhaps if the day were cloudy.” He shrugged. “You are still dark as a Moor, Julian. Perhaps I could provide you with a hat?”

Julian was smiling as he left his half-nephew, the umbrella held firmly over his head, which also had a hat sitting on it, looking out toward that same laden barge.

Julian spoke briefly to his mother, then, perversely, asked Sophie Wilkie to take a turn in one of the pleasure boats.

Her face was a study in consternation. “No! What I mean is—well, I—oh dear, that is—”

He saw her shoot a look toward Corrie Sherbrooke and Roxanne Radcliffe, who had their heads close, and now they were looking toward him. What was going on here?

He said slowly, “You wish only Devlin to row you?”

“Why, yes, I much enjoy his company, you know. But I quite fear I am not now in the mood for a good rowing. One’s feelings and desires shift and change quickly, don’t you know?”

The wide guileless smile put him on instant alert. “Try out the truth, Miss Wilkie. I promise you my feelings won’t be hurt.” Chagrin—he saw it now, writ clearly on her expressive face. “You wish to have Devlin—ah, I see, you want to see if he would burn to ashes in the sun, is that it?”

“I would never want him to burn up! As to his even being a vampire, you know very well it is all fiction, based on legend; there is no truth to it at all. Devlin simply enjoys amusing himself at other people’s expense. All that would happen to him is a sunburn.”

“Then why did you wish him out in the sun?”

“It is not that—I simply prefer him to you.”

“A blow,” he said, and flattened his palm over his heart. “I lied. I am hurt, cut to the very quick. You do realize, of course, that even though your mother and mine were bosom bows, there is no need for you to feel pressured to marry me, nor I you. You may prefer whomever you wish to prefer. Consider me in the way of being a kindly uncle. If you have questions or concerns about gentlemen you meet, why, you may confide in me. I will pat your shoulder and give you guidance. What is this? You look ready to explode, Miss Wilkie. Your eyes are nearly crossed.”

She poked him in the chest with a nanny’s finger. “A kindly uncle! Of course I don’t have to marry you; no one ever said I did. It is patently absurd.”

He heard Roxanne Radcliffe laugh. He looked back at Sophie’s red face. “I see,” he said slowly, “there is a plot brewing. I’ll wager Corrie Sherbrooke is a part of it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my lord.”

“I see it all now. All of you want to get Devlin out on the water. You claim you don’t wish to fry him. Then what is your plan?”