Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

“You have quite ruined everything,” Sophie said, and flounced away. He liked the cut of her gown, the way she moved. Her figure was quite nice, indeed, and even though she wore enough petticoats to sew a tent, he could still see the graceful motion of her hips. He was reminded he hadn’t visited Marlene in three days.

What were the ladies planning to do to Devlin? He should have warned his nephew about them, in addition to Richard Langworth. He saw Roxanne Radcliffe walk his way, only to be stopped by Mr. Ludley Owen, a singularly kind old gentleman who had a great collection of silver and gold Japanese chopsticks.

A shadow cast itself beside Julian.

“What a paltry little poseur you’ve got for a half-nephew. Imagine such a foppish creature as the future Duke of Brabante.”

Speak of the devil. Julian turned slowly. “Richard. I assume you’re here because you knew I was attending?”

“No, I fancy to sample some of Lady Marksbury’s salmon patties. My father tells me they’re the best in London.”

“I was not aware of that. Keep your distance from Devlin Monroe.”

“Keep my distance from the vampire? You are afraid he would try to take me down and suck my blood?”

“If he did, he’d probably be poisoned. Keep your distance. This is between you and me. Devlin has no part in it. Do you understand me?”

Richard Langworth’s laughter sounded in Julian’s ears as he walked toward Lady Marksbury’s buffet table, where a platter of salmon patties was piled high.

Two hours later, Julian was naked in Marlene’s frothy white bed, kissing her silly as he covered her. His last thought before he fell into a stupor was What had those witches planned to do to Devlin?

13

Radcliffe Town House

Roxanne drummed her fingertip against middle C over and over again until Sophie called out, “Roxanne, if you don’t let that poor note rest, it will run like a flea from the keyboard. Come, what is wrong?”

Roxanne raised her finger. “Sorry. I was thinking about a gentleman I met at Lady Marksbury’s party. His name is Richard Langworth. I asked Lady Bottsby who he was—she knows everyone—and she told me he was the son of Baron Purley of Hardcross Manor in Cornwall. Near Saint Austell, she said. She tapped my arm with her fan and counseled me to take care around him, for he was something of a mystery, and who knew what he was really like?

“Then I saw him speaking to Julian. I moved closer and listened. There wasn’t much said, but I felt anger toward Julian coming off him in waves. He means him ill. And Julian knows it. He all but threatened Devlin, mocking him about being a poseur and the like, and Julian warned him away.”

That snagged Sophie’s attention away from the narrow band of yellow satin she was stitching into the curve of her new cottage bonnet. “I believe we are all poseurs, depending on the company we’re in. I wish I could think of something vampiresque to make me more interesting. So you don’t know anything more about this man, Roxanne?”

“No, but I have a fancy to find out. I think I should like to stake him out, find out what mischief he’s brewing.”

“Lady Bottsby said his country house was near Saint Austell?”

Roxanne nodded.

“That is where Ravenscar is located as well. If they grew up near each other, then they’ve known each other forever. What could have happened?”

“We will ask her grace.” She heard Roxanne heave a big sigh, strike middle C again. She said, “I wish we’d been able to stake out Devlin.”

“If you’d asked him directly to row you,” Roxanne said, looking up, “he couldn’t have refused.”

Had she asked him directly and he’d sidestepped her? Sophie couldn’t remember. He was smoother than a river rock.

Roxanne said, “You know, in the long course of things, I can see Devlin doing only what he wishes to do.”

Sophie concentrated on snipping off a pale pink thread. “You should have asked him, Roxanne.”

“Me? It’s you he caresses with his voice when he speaks to you, Sophie.”

“Caresses? Me? Goodness, I’ve never noticed that. He merely touched my cheek, probably practiced flirting on his part. I think he likes me because I’m not as white as he is and thus make the perfect foil. Whereas you, Roxanne, you are in the nature of competition, with your yard upon yard of white skin.”

Roxanne said, eyebrow arched, “You want to stake me out now?”

They laughed together, but it wasn’t long before Roxanne was again tapping notes on the pianoforte.