Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

“You were too curious this time, Roxanne,” Devlin said, considering. “At least you weren’t out for blood—more’s the pity.”

“But his coat was lying beneath you,” Sophie said. “Placing it just so—that takes time.”

“He had his coat in his hands when he grabbed me. He is smart,” Roxanne added, and pulled another twig from her hair.

Devlin lightly squeezed her arm. “Ah, not much muscle at all, Roxanne, it is disappointing. You weren’t much of a challenge at all.”

Julian turned to see Sophie racing back through the home wood. She wouldn’t dare. He waited until he heard Cannon whinny.

Devlin grinned. “You toy with her, Julian. I quite like that.”

Julian waited another moment, then he whistled.

When Cannon came trotting up to him a few minutes later, a red-faced Sophie racing behind him, waving a carrot, he said, “I believe it a fine idea if you and Roxanne were to have a nice walk back to the manor. I forgive you for taking him, but I believe a bit of punishment might make a powerful point.”

“You are not a gentleman, sir.”

He swung onto Cannon’s back, then gave Devlin a hand to bring him up behind him. Cannon snorted. “You are no lightweight, Devlin,” Julian said over his shoulder. “No matter, Cannon won’t have time to work himself up. We’ll fetch Roxanne’s horse for you.”

Sophie and Roxanne stood in the clearing until the gentlemen came riding back through. Julian gave them a silent salute. Devlin merely shook his finger at Roxanne. He called over his shoulder, “Your hair is quite beautiful all long and tangled down your back. All that sinful red.”

Roxanne lifted the pile of hair that hung down her back. She twisted it up, stuck it beneath her riding hat. She brushed her skirts again, straightened her jacket. “Well, Sophie, would you like to walk to that gazebo on the other side of the lake?”

26

Sophie didn’t go back inside the manor with Roxanne because she saw Victoria Langworth slip behind a maple tree. Why was she hiding? Surely she could not have taken Sophie into dislike; she didn’t even know her.

Sophie waited a moment, then walked resolutely to the maple tree. She called out, “Hello, Miss Langworth. It is a glorious day. Won’t you come out and speak to me?”

She waited. Finally, Victoria emerged from behind the tree. She didn’t move, simply stood there, watching Sophie, rather like a deer watching a hunter, wanting to spring away but frozen to the spot.

She looked very young to Sophie, in her schoolroom muslin gown, but Sophie knew Victoria to be close to her own age. Why had she not married? Why did she still dress like a schoolgirl?

Sophie said, “I rode Julian’s horse, Cannon. Julian would have choked me if he could have gotten away with it. Actually, it was close. He was very angry with me. What do you think?”

Victoria didn’t fidget, didn’t move. Finally, she said, “I would choke you, too, if you stole my horse. Cannon frightens me. You really rode him? You weren’t afraid?”

Sophie, all good humor, walked over to where Victoria stood, swinging her bonnet by its long violet ribbons. “No, I wasn’t afraid, probably because Cannon decided to humor me. He was playful, unlike his master when he found me. Do you know Cannon comes to Julian when he whistles?”

Victoria nodded. “Yes. Julian tried to teach me to whistle once, but I could not manage it.”

“I could teach you.”

“No, no, I am too old for that now. Father keeps reminding me that I am a grown lady and I must be mature and thoughtful. Excuse me, Miss Wilkie—”

“Please call me Sophie.”

“I overheard Julian’s mama speaking to my father. She said Julian was going to marry you, since your mother was her very best friend.”

Sophie merely smiled.

“Julian was married to my sister, you know,” said Victoria. “She loved him very much, at least I thought she did, but then she had private relations—that’s what I heard the servants whispering to each other—with a man I never saw. I don’t know if any of the servants saw him either. And then Lily was dead. It was all very sad.”

Lily had been married to Julian only six months and she’d taken a lover? Sophie said carefully, “I think her name very pretty—Lily. I’m very sorry she died.”

“She didn’t die of a putrid throat, like my own dear mother, she got shot in the heart. If Lily were still alive, she would be thirty next Monday. Isn’t that strange?”

“It is very strange—may I call you Victoria?”