On a Wicked Dawn (Cynster 9)

"We went to Astley's Amphitheatre and Gunter's, too. And the museum." Portia twirled before the windows of the drawing room; her hours in the coach had in no way dimmed her boundless enthusiasm for life.

"We went to the museum twice," Penelope informed them. The light glanced off her spectacles as she looked up from her seat on the chaise.

Luc glanced at the slight, frail-looking figure sitting beside Penelope. Miss Pink appeared exhausted, as well she might — it sounded as if she'd been dragged all over London several times in the few days his younger sisters had spent in the capital.

"We could hardly waste the opportunity to see all we could."

Luc looked at Penelope; she gazed back at him, brown eyes steady — as usual, she'd read his mind. It was, in his opinion, one of her least attractive habits.

>

"We all thoroughly enjoyed our time at Somersham," his mother put in, "and although the last days in town were busy with shutting up the house, it was a pleasant and eventful interlude." Minerva sat in her customary armchair, sipping a cup of tea. Her gaze rested briefly on Emily, seated alongside Miss Pink, then she raised her eyes to meet Luc's.

He surmised he'd be hearing more about Lord Kirkpatrick shortly.

"I'm so glad you could all come to Somersham for the wedding." Amelia sat in another armchair, likewise sipping tea.

"It was perfect — just perfect" Portia continued to twirl. "And seeing everyone again — well, we've known them all for years, but it was lovely to catch up and learn how people have got on."

Luc leaned his shoulders against the mantelpiece — surrounded, as he'd been for the past eight years, by a sea of females. He was fond of them all, even Miss Pink, although they often laid siege to his sanity. And now he'd added another. One who threatened to be the most unnerving of the lot.

Portia was the most predictable. Ceasing her twirling, she swung to him. With her dark hair and deep blue eyes, she was the most physically like him; she'd also inherited the longer bones of his mother's family — she was taller than Emily, Anne, and Penelope. "I'm going to visit the puppies. They must have grown enormously in the past two weeks."

She bobbed a curtsy, then headed for the French doors giving onto the terrace and lawns.

Luc inwardly grimaced, but felt compelled to say, "The largest male is already adopted — don't set your heart on him." Portia halted and looked back at him, brows high. "I thought he looked a potential champion — have you claimed him, then?"

"No." Luc nodded at Amelia. "I gave him to Amelia."

"Oh!" Portia's smile was genuinely delighted — in more ways than one. She beamed at Amelia. "What have you called him?"

Luc shut his eyes fleetingly, inwardly groaned.

"He seemed very set on questing." Amelia returned Portia's smile. "He's Galahad of Calverton Chase."

"Galahad!" Portia gripped the back of the chaise, her face alight. "And Luc agreed?"

Amelia shrugged. "The name hadn't been used before."

Portia looked at Luc; from her expression she was busily making connections he'd much rather she didn't. Her eyes narrowed, sparkling with intelligent conjecture, but all she said was, "Capital! I'm off to see this phenomenon."

She strode for the French doors.

Penelope set down her cup, swiped up two biscuits. "About time, brother dear. Wait for me, Portia — I have to see this, too."

With a nod to their mother and Amelia, Penelope hurried out after Portia.

The energy level in the room subsided to more comfortable levels. Everyone smiled, relaxing a trifle more. Luc hoped Amelia, at least, imagined Penelope's comment referred to the puppy's name; he was fairly certain his irritating littlest sister had meant something more pointedly personal.

Minerva set down her cup. "Of course, there were a few other events of interest during the past week beyond Astley's and the museum." Together with Emily and Anne, she filled Luc and Amelia in, passing on the good wishes of various hostesses. "When you return to London later in the year, you both, along with Dexter and Amanda, can expect to be besieged."

"With any luck, some scandal will by then have reared its head, deflecting the interest of the fickle." Luc straightened, adjusting one cuff.

Minerva shot him a cynical look. "Don't wager on it. Given Martin and Amanda took refuge in the north, and you married at Somersham and headed immediately up here, the hostesses will be waiting for their moment."

Luc grimaced; Amelia smiled.

Miss Pink, sufficiently restored from the rigors of the journey, rose and quietly excused herself; Emily and Anne, having finished their tea, decided to retire to their rooms.