Strathaven entered the room. He was tall, dark, and wickedly handsome, his debonair image somewhat marred by the dark-haired baby girl in the crook of his arm. With a chubby fist wrapped around one end of His Grace’s cravat, little Olivia tugged with stubborn insistence, cheerfully drooling all the while.
“Speaking of bloodthirsty, Livy is murdering your cravat.” Emma held out her arms. “You’d best give the little imp to me.”
As Strathaven handed over the babe, his knuckles brushed with casual intimacy against his wife’s cheek. “I thought she might be lonely so I got her from the nursery.”
“Lonely? With the army of nursemaids you hired to look after her?” Emma slanted a mischievous look at her husband and said in conspiratorial tones to their daughter, “Who was the lonely one, poppet—you or Papa?”
Livy flashed a toothless grin. An instant later, she grabbed at Emma’s bodice.
“Ma ma ma,” she said.
“By God, she’stalking.” Strathaven looked thunderstruck—as if his offspring had just recited a sonnet.
“She’s hungry,” Emma said ruefully. “I had better get Her Highness fed.”
“On that note, Rosie and I must be off as well, or we’ll be late for our fitting.” Marianne rose, her daughter following suit. “We look forward to your party, Gabby.”
The Strathavens and Kents departed, leaving Violet with Polly and Gabby.
“I wish someone would look at me the way His Grace looks at your sister,” Gabby said wistfully into the quiet room.
“He loves her very much,” Polly agreed. “I always knew he did, even before…” She trailed off, biting her lip.
“Before what?” Gabby asked.
Seeing her sister’s flustered expression, Vi knew that Polly didn’t want to reveal her uncanny ability to read other people’s emotions. Back in Chudleigh Crest, Polly’s acuity had led others to consider her a bit “strange,” something she feared more than anything.
“Seeing as we Kents always marry for love,” Vi said hastily, “it wasn’t hard to guess that Emma and Strathaven would wind up a love match.”
Polly sent her a grateful look.
“A love match. I see.” Gabby sighed.
An odd pang struck Vi. She’d spoken the truth: Kents did marry for love, and, consequently, she’d been surrounded by passionate couples all her life. Yet why hadn’tsheencountered love’s magic? She’d spent a good deal of time in the company of boys, but she’d never felt that mysterious—and supposedly irresistible—pull of attraction.
Quite frankly, she’d never understood what all the fuss was about.
Out of nowhere, Carlisle intruded upon her mind’s eye. His stern, rugged features… his large and unyielding physique. Sensation washed over her: the rush of being contained by his rigid strength, his manly scent filling her nose, his breath coasting warmly over her ear…
Gadzooks, what’s the matter with you?Why are you thinking such things?Bewildered, she realized that her pulse was racing—as if she’d run a race or climbed a tree.
“I have some bad news to share,” Gabby announced. “About Carlisle.”
Vi twitched. “Um, pardon?”
“He’ll be at my party.”
Butter and jam, Carlisle and I are going to be trapped together in the same house… for an entireweek?Horror flooded Vi.
“What is more, Father says that I must be extra nice to him. Nice—after what he said about you, Violet! And I’ve heard that Carlisle is a large, stodgy, and intimidating man.” Gabby shuddered. “Not the sort that I’d want to be nice toat all.”
Vi cleared her throat. “Maybe you can avoid him?”Like I’ll be doing.
“Father will be watching like a hawk. No, I need a better plan—reinforcements.” Gabby brightened. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Polly said at once. “What do you want us to do?”
“If you see me with him, you must come rescue me,” Gabby pleaded. “Promise me you will? Pinkie swear on it?”
