There.
Viola had admitted it.
Yes, he was a duke.
Yes, he was one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the kingdom.
Yes, he had grand ambitions and gave every appearance of assisting her father in his career.
And, yes, he had Viola by her pen, steering her writerly and romantic choices.
None of those things automatically made Kendall an ass.
Thatparticular attribute, unlike nearly everything else in his life, sprang, fully-formed, from his own psyche.
Why had the man bothered traveling all the way to Fettermill if he was merely going to be unpleasant?
The small exchange with Malcolm earlier had likely been the catalyst for the duke’s ill-tempered behavior. As if Kendall had been trying to play nicely with the other privileged children, but then Malcolm’s rough-edged words had pricked him, reminding His Grace that he was a duke and didn’t have to share or play nice with anyone.
Regardless of the cause, the man’s barbed comments were undoubtedly aimed at Malcolm Penn-Leith.
Viola’s hands trembled with suppressed outrage, her lungs tight.
The old duke had often behaved like this, cracking the whip of his scorn at those beneath him simply because he could. Kendall clearly had learned the behavior from the master.
Even jovial Ethan grew quieter and more tight-lipped the longer His Grace spoke, darting glances at his older brother.
For his part, Malcolm bore the indirect assault with his usual stoic verve. He sat as far as possible from Kendall, his back against the side of the folly, arms folded, legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles.
“Furthermore,” Kendall was saying, “once Parliament has addressed the issue of merchant wagons choking London streets, they will need to turn their attention to the blight of the urban poor.”
“Blight?” Dr. Brodure murmured. “Not . . .plight, Your Grace?”
Kendall scowled at the older man. “No, why would I not say precisely what I mean?Blight.Poverty is no excuse for a degradation of morals. It is why literary works like your daughter’s are of the utmost importance. Miss Brodure captures the suitable humility and goodness that the impoverished must demonstrate in order to deserve the charity of their betters.”
Viola’s father barely stopped a wincing grimace.
“Is that so, Your Grace?” Ethan’s baffled expression stated he was as flummoxed as everyone else over the duke’s bitter verbosity.
“Yes.” Kendall gave a decided nod of his head. “In fact, when I arrange for you and Miss Brodure to dine with the Queen, you should remind her of these truths. Her Majesty will be most eager to discuss the subject, I am sure.”
Gracious.
Did Kendall expect Viola toconversewith the Queen on these matters?
Her lungs constricted tighter.
Abruptly, the muscles in her neck tightened, sending tingling shocks down her spine.
No.
Oh, please no.
How could she have been so careless? She had been so intent on Malcolm and Kendall’s boorish behavior—on the realization that she might have to dine with royalty—that she had neglected to listen to the panicked cues of her own body.
She could not bear having a full-blown asthmatic fit in a folly in front of a crowd of people—three of whom were a pontificating duke, the poet everyone expected her to court, and the manshehoped to court—
If she wished to avoid an attack, she had to leave. Now.
