“Times have changed.” Twin spots of dusky pink stained her cheeks. Her eyes shone bright with fervor. “More and more, people have taken to doing as they please. Take me, for example. I am both the daughter of a duke and the owner of an animal sanctuary.” Her gaze landed on the Duke of Acaster. “A duke himself can invest in gaming hells.” Her gaze shifted toward Lady Ormonde. “So can his sister, who can also be the wife of a marquess.” Next, it was on to her sister-in-law. “A duchess can be a jockey.” She turned toward Lady Beatrix. “Remind me, what is your unaristocratic husband called by society?”
Lady Beatrix’s mouth twitched. “That would be Lord Devil.”
Artemis remained as serious as a crusader. “I see no reason why the brother of an earl cannot be a horse trainer.”
Bran stayed utterly, carefully still as silence filled the air, expanding and deepening.
Except inside, he was anything but still. Rather, a scrum of unruly emotion rioted through him, impelling him to take a step forward, take Artemis by the hand before the assembled, and claim her as his. After all, wasn’t it a claiming of him that ran just below her defense? Hadn’t all heard it?
But no, not yet.
Those words had to be spoken first between only the two of them.
Rakesley cleared his throat. “Mallory, you’ll let me know soon?”
Slowly, Bran nodded. “Aye.”
Within a few minutes, the gathering had dispersed so everyone could pursue their day as they saw fit.
Artemis, however, stepped forward. “Lord Branwell,” she said in proper greeting.
“Lady Artemis,” he returned, as properly.
A beat of time ticked past before her gaze shifted. “And Lady Gwyneth, it’s so wonderful finally to meet you. Tales of your beauty have not been exaggerated.”
A delicate blush stained Gwyneth’s cheeks as she dipped into a shallow curtsy. “I’m most flattered that you even know who I am, Lady Artemis.”
Artemis’s mouth quirked with a caught-out smile.
It was thefinallythat had given her away.
Of course, Artemis knew all about Gwyneth, or at least, what Bran had told her. But as everyone, including Gwyneth, thought he and Artemis were only distant acquaintances, thatfinallywould have stuck out to Gwyneth.
“Well,” said Artemis, clearly struggling for words that would reduce the awkwardness. “There’s a donkey I must see to.”
A smile brightened across Gwyneth’s face. “Adonkey?”
“A Jerusalem donkey, to be exact,” said Artemis. “She’s in the neighboring village.”
Unable to help himself, Bran had to ask, “You’ve only arrived this morning. How have you already caught wind of a donkey in need in the neighboring village?”
“By speaking to Mrs. Woving, of course.”
“Mrs. Woving?”
“Somerton’s cook,” said Artemis, a secondof courseimplicit. “Exclaim over a cook’s sticky buns once, and they’ll catch you up on all the latest goings-on in the neighborhood forever. People like being appreciated.”
With that, Artemis nodded her farewell and turned on her heel, whistling for Bathsheba, a woman on her way to rescue a donkey in need.
A throat cleared beside Bran. “Are you and Lady Artemis previously acquainted?”
He felt his sister’s eyes upon him.
Eyes that were surely following the trajectory of his gaze and watching him watch Artemis walk away.
He tore his gaze away. “Everyone in society knows each other in one form or fashion.”
“I’ll rephrase the question,” said Gwyneth. “Are you and Lady Artemiswellacquainted?”
