Oh, Dev, but that I could hear your voice today. But that I could catch one glimpse of your smile.
Penny finished braiding her hair and tied it off with the same ribbon she’d used the night before. “It’s like spun gold.” She sighed. Penny’s own hair was tucked under a cap. She was a pretty brown-eyed girl, with plain clothing and nothing to draw attention to herself.
Sophia was going to have to become better acquainted with her. Some lady’s maids stayed with their mistresses for life.
That was a very long time.
“Do you have a beau?” Sophia asked her impulsively.
Penny blushed but shook her head side to side. “I don’t, but the master’s valet is a fine-looking gentleman, that’s for sure.”
Sophia would have groaned at this sentiment if she could have. But she could say nothing, for Stewart and Harold’s secret was hers now, too. She must protect it as such.
Harold and Stewart’s lives depended upon it.
* * *
Unable to departTown that first day as planned, Dev returned to Prescott House to spend one more night before leaving London. He missed out on the family supper but later, found St. John alone in his uncle’s study.
Several members of the family had chosen to attend the theatre and would not be returning until after midnight.
Lucas, though always a bit remote, seemed slightly more melancholy than usual. He held a tumbler of whisky in one hand and a book in his lap.
The book was closed, though the glass nearly empty.
Feeling the loss of Sophia more than he’d like, Dev poured himself a drink and dropped into a nearby winged-back chair. “Not squiring Miss Mossant about tonight?” He pulled over an ottoman and swung his booted feet upon it.
St. John half smiled and shook his head.
“Not tonight,” he said. “Pleasant chit, but I’d best watch my step with her. She’ll be expecting me to declare myself soon, no doubt.”
Sophia had mentioned that Miss Mossant was developing a tender for St. John. She’d mentioned that the young womanwas, in fact, hopeful of a declaration. A slight resentment at his cousin’s caviler attitude arose inside of him, but he quickly dismissed it. What was the matter with him? Had he turned into a bloody matchmaker now? Now that he’d fallen himself?
For he’d fallen.
God, how he’d fallen.
Crazy, madly, wildly in love with Harold’s wife.
Except that she was not.
She was his — body, heart, and soul. She was his, by God, and yes, he was hers.
A few… complications simply needed ironing out.
“You’ve no intentions in her direction, then?” Dev spoke casually. Sophia would want to know. She’d want to warn Rhoda to protect herself.
Between the two of them, and their friend, the Countess of Kensington, they’d reason enough to distrust men.
St. John glanced at him sideways. “Miss Mossant is like a long, cool, glass of water on a hot day. She is bright, witty, and really, quite a looker. She will make some gentleman a fine wife someday. But not mine.”
Dev wondered. “Why not?”
St. John merely crossed his legs and reclined deeper into the chair. “You know as well as I, Dev. Nothing less than the daughter of an earl for me.” Dev hated St. John when he did this. When he turned aloof, and arrogant. Dev knew it to be a mask of sorts. He’d known Lucas as a boy. They’d shared their hopes and dreams too often as children for Lucas to get away with it now.
But that didn’t mean his cousin didn’t try.
“That you speaking, Luc, or your father?” Dev challenged.
