“I do not dislike him either, though he isverytalkative. I don’t believe I’ve told him a single thing about myself.”
The Duke, on the other hand,she thought,seemed rather interested in learning about me—though whether from amusement, curiosity, or something else entirely, I cannot yet tell.
“Well, the Season has only just begun,” Margaret said, resuming her stitching. “You have time yet to decide. Just not too much time.”
Elowen wisely let that pass. She’d have this conversation again soon enough. “How is Papa?” she asked.
“He’s quite tired. Resting now.”
Elowen felt the familiar knot of worry tighten in her chest. “I’ll sit with him when he wakes.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad of it—and eager to hear about your outing with the Duke.”
Elowen groaned softly. “Mother, must we—”
Suddenly, the door swung open. Elowen stiffened, half-expecting the Duke of Beaushire himself to stride in unannounced. Instead, a tall, dark-haired young man stepped inside.
Her mother’s gasp was sharp and delighted. The baroness rose at once, joy flooding her face, and Elowen followed suit—just in time to see her mother hurry forward and all but throw herself into the arms of the twenty-year-old gentleman wearing an identical grin.
“William!” she cried. “Oh, my sweet boy—you gave me quite a turn.”
William chuckled, the sound far deeper than Elowen remembered it to be. It had been a couple of years since she’d seen him last, but she couldn’t believe just how much he had grown in that time. His hair was fuller, curling at the nape of his neck as if he hadn’t bothered to have it cut before he made his trip home. And there was a faint shadow of facial hair covering the lower half of his face. He was only one year younger than herself, but she’d always seen him as more than her younger brother, like a baby she had once had to take care of.
“Mother, you know nothing gives me more pleasure than to give you a gentle fright,” William said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s a good thing I didn’t send word ahead, or it would have spoiled the surprise.”
“Perhaps then we might have had a proper reception for you,” Elowen teased, smiling as she approached. “But I suppose your rascality takes precedence.”
“As it always does.” William slipped free of their mother’s embrace to hug his sister and kiss her cheek. “How are you, dearest sister?”
“Quite well, all things considered.”
“Then tell me—has the ton welcomed us back into their good graces?”
Elowen’s smile faltered. William had always been able to jest about the scandal in a way she never could.
“Actually,” Margaret said brightly, sliding her arm through his and steering him toward the sofa, “you will be happy to know that your sister has already made quite a name for herself this Season.”
“Mother, I’m sure the last thing William wants to hear about is my social exploits,” Elowen said with a sigh, following them. She sat across from mother and son, folding her hands in her lap.
“Why ever not?” the baroness countered. “He’s been away at Oxford for so long—he can scarcely have had the chance to hear a word of our news.”
Elowen arched a brow. “You mean to suggest you haven’t written to him about it already?”
William chuckled. “She’s got you there, Mother. It’s never been easy to fool Elowen.”
“Only because I’ve had to learn to keep my wits about me thanks toyou.”
“You are quite welcome, dear sister,” William responded with a grin, entirely unperturbed by the sarcasm lacing her voice. “And you are right. Mother has already regaled me with tales of your adventures with the Duke of Beaushire—and the Marquess of Cherrington.”
“But I have not yet had the chance to write and tell you about her afternoon with the Duke at the British Museum—”
“Of which you will have ample time to do later,” Elowen cut in. “I am sure William is quite exhausted from his travels and would prefer to rest before luncheon. Wouldn’t you, William?”
William leaned conspiratorially toward their mother and said, in a stage whisper loud enough for Elowen to hear, “I do not think she wishes to speak of the Duke.”
“I do not,” Elowen replied crisply. “I would much rather talk about you. To what do we owe this sudden pleasure?”
“Can a young gentleman not visit his family without needing a reason?”
