“Are you going on this picnic as well?” Maxwell asked Violetta.
“Of course, she is,” Isabel said, waving a hand. “A chaperone is surely necessary if Ambrose is courting me.”
Ambrose choked on his tea, coughing discreetly into a napkin until the fit subsided, eyes watery. “I would love to have Violetta along, of course.”
I had to fight to keep from smiling, and after meeting Maxwell’s eyes, I knew it was the same for him. He had to hide his face behind his hands, visibly shaking with suppressed laughter. To save him face, I stood and cleared my throat. “Before I forget, Maxwell, let me show you that book that arrived from France.”
Maxwell got to his feet and nodded, turning away quickly to continue the subterfuge as we hurried to the door.
“I should select the wine for our picnic as well,” Ambrose said behind us. “I don’t trust the servants to do it for me. I’ll be but a moment.”
Once in the hall, Ambrose closed the door behind us and Maxwell collapsed against the wall in a fit of laughter. I followed suit, while Ambrose looked on us both with disapproval. “It’s not funny,” he scolded, although the smile inching across his face told another story.
“That is the most Isabel thing she has ever said,” Maxwell proclaimed as he caught his breath between tapering fits of giggles. “Good lord, the ego on her.”
I shook my head as I turned to Ambrose. “What do you see in her?”
Ambrose shrugged helplessly. “She’s one of the most sought-after girls in Hale’s Corner. Her family would be an asset to us.”
“She’s also beautiful,” I pointed out.
“Yes, she is. That’s not nothing.”
I nodded slowly. “Is that very important to you? Appearances?”
Ambrose met my eyes. “Of course. I’m going to be a duke. My partner should be one to be admired.”
I looked away. “Of course.”
“It’s not all about appearances though,” Maxwell said, looking between me and his brother. “You know how father and mother adore Cecelia. Surely she’s the frontrunner.”
Ambrose bobbed his head in agreement. “Her family is the most connected. They are often guests of the queen.”
“She also has a keen intellect.”
Ambrose shuddered. “Yes, you’re right. That could be a detriment. A duke’s partner should be seen, not heard. I wouldn’t want anyone with grand ideas stepping into that role.”
Maxwell frowned. “That’s not … I meant that beauty fades, and you’ll be able to have interesting conversations with her your entire lives.”
Ambrose seemed to consider this, as if the thought hadn’t presented itself to him before. Perhaps it hadn’t. “I suppose there’s truth to that.”
Despite myself, I felt any lingering interest in Ambrose sour. He was shallow, insipid, and … infuriating. It really should have been Maxwell inheriting the dukedom, not this … preening showboat.
“Oh, but don’t worry, Lucian,” Ambrose said, as if remembering that I was still there. “You are very pretty yourself.”
I swallowed my pride and sent him an adoring smile. “That means so much to hear.”
He nodded to himself, and when he turned his back, I clenched my fists tightly at my sides. I would rather strangle him than stroke his ego any longer. Would it be worth sacrificing immortality to bludgeon him to death? I was debating.
Maxwell looked expectantly at Ambrose. “I think you have a bottle of wine to select, brother?”
Ambrose rolled his eyes. “That I do.” He turned and walked down the hallway.
Maxwell cleared his throat. “Thank you for the save. I appreciate it.”
I nodded. “I needed a moment myself, if it wasn’t obvious.”
“Meanwhile, I was drowning in laughter. I’ve only ever made a spectacle of myself in public once, at church when I was young. I tripped on my way to receive communion and knocked someone over. I received quite a reprimand from father. You can believe I was careful from then on.”
