He tightened his hold on her and leaned in to kiss her cheek. ‘Of course you weren’t.’
Isabella tutted. ‘You don’t change, do you?’
‘I should hope not.’
Holding her close, Ralph thought how much he’d always liked Isabella. She was very different to the girls he knew in London, mostly they were thewell-finished sort who were on the hunt for an obscenely rich husband. Isabella had more ambition than that; she wanted to make something of herself and though he lacked ambition himself, he admired her for being so determined and independent. She wasn’t one of those clingy girls who sucked the air out of him.
He had known her all his life, but always at a distance. He knew all about Isabella’s mother, Allegra, being the illegitimate child of Harry Devereux, his father’s uncle who had been the notorious black sheep of the family. He knew too that Arthur was considered something of a black sheep also, that few people, if any, in the family actually liked him.
‘So what have you been doing since our paths last crossed?’ he asked Isabella.
‘I’ve been busy working.’
‘You call actingwork?’
‘That’s rich coming from you, Ralph. When are you going to put in an honest day’s work?’
He groaned. ‘You sound as bad as my father.’
‘Don’t you get bored with being an idle gentleman about town?’
‘But I do it with such aplomb.’
She laughed. ‘Nobody could argue with that.’
He spun her round and laughed too. ‘Now why is it we never meet up in London when we both live there?’
‘What on earth makes you think I’d want to spend any of my precious free time with you?’
He grinned. ‘Because I’m irresistible, and astonishingly handsome. So come on, agree to have dinner with me when you’re back in town. We could go to a lively little club I know in Soho and go dancing.’
‘And how would your father feel about you seeing me for dinner when he hated my mother so much? And let’s not forget my illegitimacy. I’m not the sort of friend he’d like for you.’
He shook his head. ‘Who cares what he thinks? And besides, your surname might be Hartley, but you’re a Devereux through and through.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because you just are. You’re one of the clan. Romily has seen to that. You know, I’ve often envied you.’ He saw the surprise flicker on her face.
‘Envied me?’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘You’ve had so many looking out for you. The same is true of Annelise. Romily took you both under her wing; there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t have done for you.’
‘Are you saying you feel you’ve missed out?’
He shrugged. ‘Let’s face it, my father does not excel when it comes to having a loving instinct. But then sociopaths don’t, do they?’
‘That’s pretty harsh, calling your father a sociopath. Especially as he could not have spoiled you more as a young child. I remember one Christmas when you had more toys than Santa’s grotto.’
‘That was only to make up for the lack of love.’
‘Is this when I’m supposed to start feeling sorry for you and agree to have dinner with you out of pity?’
He laughed. ‘I’ll try any trick I can. But seriously, the way I see it, the Devereux family is like a club, you’re either in, or you’re not, and even though I carry the name Devereux, I’m not a member like you.’
‘What a strange thing to say.’
‘Not at all. I carry the stigma of being Arthur Devereux’s son, ergo I’m regarded as suspect.’
