Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“However,” went on Alec, ignoring the Devil’s barbed teasing, “I trust that any test of marksmanship will be confined to a more pleasant use of bullets and powder—like shooting apples off the top of Davenport’s head. Because, I assure you, my—”

Andover, who had tactfully kept himself removed from the reunion until now, chose this moment to poke his head into the room. “Is this a private family gathering, or might I offer my greetings to Alec?”

“From observing you with Strathcona’s sister, it appears you are almost family,” quipped Davenport.

Andover coughed and colored slightly.

“So by all means, join us.”

Alec wasn’t unha

ppy at having the chance to divert the attention from him, at least for the moment. “Oh? Is there a development I ought to be aware of?”

“Nothing formal,” replied Andover in a strangled voice. “I was, er, waiting for you to return to speak, um…”

“First things first, Andy,” interrupted Wrexham. “Before we discuss your matrimonial prospects—congratulations, by the by—I think we ought to settle the matter of Strathcona’s intentions.”

“Which are, of course, completely honorable,” answered Alec. “I have proposed, and Caro has seen fit to accept.”

“God only knows why,” murmured Davenport.

Wrexham moved to the sideboard. Ignoring the decanters, he opened the cabinet door and brought out a silver urn containing a bottle of champagne nestled in shaved ice.

“I was hoping you would say that. It would have been a pity to have to return such a fine vintage to the cellar.” He popped the cork and filled four glasses. “Shall we drink a toast, gentlemen?” he said, passing them to the others.

“To the Hellions of High Street,” said Davenport. He winked at Andover. “And their soon-to-be sister in the Black Magic art of bewitching their men.”

Crystal clinked, punctuating the low rumble of male laughter.

“To the Hellions!”

“So, shall we draw straws to see which one of us recounts her story first?” Settling smoothly into the role of eldest sister, Olivia took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs by the bedchamber hearth, while Anna assumed an elegant sprawl on the settee. “Though I must say, mine will be the shortest and least interesting.”

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” said Caro hastily. “The men will likely want to take a leisurely interlude to trade masculine jokes over port and cigars, won’t they? So you should take precedence.”

“The men might well be taking the leisurely interlude to trade masculine punches,” said Anna. “Wrexham was very concerned that you had been placed in a very awkward situation.”

Caro had just taken a perch on the edge of the bed, but shot up in a flash. “Oh, you don’t think—”

“No, I don’t,” replied Olivia firmly. “They won’t come to blows… assuming John decides Lord Strathcona is worthy of your hand.”

“And assuming Strathcona asked for it, and not just some other part of Caro’s anatomy,” added Anna dryly.

Caro felt a heated blush rise to the very roots of her hair.

“Just jesting.”

“I—I should hope so.” She lifted her chin. “Alec is a man of stalwart honor and unimpeachable integrity.”

Olivia slanted a look at Anna. On receiving a confirming nod, her shoulders relaxed a little. “Not that I truly feared the worst, but some gentlemen can be very charming rascals, and…”

“And with my passionate nature, you worried that I might be swept off my feet by a few poetic phrases.”

“Well, since you put it that way.”

All three sisters began to laugh.

Oh, it was beyond marvelous, thought Caro, to have them here teasing her. And sharing her joyful news. If anyone could understand how she felt about the wonders of love it was Olivia and Anna.