His gaze cut left and met Artemis’s though he still spoke to Mother.
Artemis wasn’t sure, but her heart might’ve stopped beating.
“Lady Artemis, however, fits the term in every way. She has experienced pressure and adversity … love and loss. She’s been through the fire and come through to the other side. She shines brighter than any diamond, in fact, as she leads with strength and beauty, laughter and kindness. It’s my greatest hope that Gwyneth will, someday, become a diamond like her.”
Artemis might never breathe again.
From beneath lowered eyelashes, she risked a glance at Mother, whose mouth had firmed into a straight, silent line.
Rake said something—she might’ve heardbrandies—but she couldn’t say with any certainty.
The words Bran had just spoken …
They were a declaration, weren’t they?
Everyone at the table stood, and Artemis followed the motions as through a fog.
Bran leaned to the side to attend to something Lady Gwyneth was saying. As if from outside her body, she watched as he made Lady Gwyneth’s excuses—something about retiring to her bedchamber.
Then they were gone.
It wasn’t that Artemis was now alone—of course she wasn’t—but she felt so.
For all she wanted was to be with Bran.
Even as she now felt strangely shy of him.
Today, he kept speaking words to her that no one had ever spoken to her.
As everyone made their way to the drawing room for brandies, conversation, and whatever other evening pursuits that took their fancy, she felt an arm weave through hers from behind. A step later, Rake was at her side. “Sister,” he said, his dark eyes brooking no opposition, “let’s have a chat, shall we?”
She nodded and allowed herself to be led out onto the terrace. On this moonless night, the stars shone bright against the wide expanse of crisp, indigo sky.
Only when they’d reached the stone balustrade that signaled enough distance between themselves and any curious ears that might be turned their way, Rake faced her. “Now, would you be so good as to inform me as to what in the blazes I just witnessed at the dining room table?” He’d pitched his voice low so it wouldn’t carry beyond them. “For if I’m not very mistaken, I watched a proclamation of love.” Dry humor entered his eyes. “I’ve become uniquely acquainted with such proclamations in recent months.”
Sudden tears sprang to Artemis’s eyes.Blast.She swiped them away with the back of her hand. “Oh, Rake,” burst from her.
His brow furrowed, sudden tension radiating from him. “Artemis, are you in trouble?”
“Oh, Rake,” burst from her again. “That question comes about ten years too late.”
“Artemis,” he said in that firm way he could have. “Explain.”
She saw she had no choice.
But she also saw that telling Rake would be a massive relief.
“During my debut season,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “Lord Branwell and I met, and we formed an attachment.”
Rake lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Anattachment?”
“We fell in love.”
That was about as concisely as she could tell it.
Rake’s brow darkened. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” His brow thundered with gathering brotherly umbrage. “Why didn’t he offer for you?”
“Rake.” She reached out and placed a staying hand on his arm. “It isn’t what you’re thinking.”
