“No!” all four Deville brothers said in the same cold, hard tone.
“Excellent,” the duchess crowed. “The youngest Deville can go first, as I don’t believe he’s read before.”
“I do have an outstanding reading voice,” Zach said.
“There, darling! Pull up beside that great lumbering carriage the duchess thinks is elegant.”
Nathan watched the Duke of Raven maneuver his curricle into place at his duchess’s urging.
“Raven,” Nathan said. Michael and Zach nodded; Gabe was too busy making pathetic lovey eyes with Dimity to notice their arrival.
“Devilles.” The duke acknowledged, looking like a king, yet far more distinguished.
“They’re a handsome couple,” Zach whispered loudly. “He’s very…” His hand rotated at the wrist.
“Dukish,” Nathan suggested.
“The very thing, and the duchess is beautiful.”
“Extremely,” Michael agreed.
The duke wore a deep green jacket, and the duchess a pale lemon dress with rose trim, bonnet, and gloves.
“My husband has yet to experience an impromptu literary salon,” the Duchess of Raven said. “I think it’s time to broaden his education.”
“Oh goody,” the duke said, his noble voice laced heavily with sarcasm.
“It’s good for your sturdy soul.” His wife patted his hand.
“Quick, maneuver us in behind the Duke of Raven’s curricle!”
Nathan watched another carriage join the group, which was now a half circle.
“Brace yourself,” Michael whispered into his ear.
Chapter Thirteen
“What? Why?”
“Left. I had not seen her until now.”
Nathan turned his head to the left and saw a group of women approaching on horseback. Phillipa Blake, Mary Blake, and Bethany Carlow. Every muscle in Nathan’s body clenched.
He turned away as if he cared little about her arrival. Of course, not before he’d catalogued everything she wore down to the small black leather boots on her feet; such was the way his mind worked. He could remember anything at a glance. The skirts of her riding habit were black, and the jacket lilac. Black military-style braiding ran down the front. On her head was a black hat that curled slightly on either side. Her blonde hair was rolled and twisted into a knot at the back. Beautiful, he thought, and an utter cow.
“Miss Carlow,” the Duchess of Yardly said, singling her out. “I believe this is your first literary salon also?”
He had to look at her now or it would appear odd. She’d changed, he realized, perhaps really seeing her for the first time. It was there in her face. She’d lost the soft innocence he’d fallen in love with. There was a hardness to her eyes now. He’d not noticed it before. She was different and yet outwardly the same. And how he knew that, he had no idea, and yet he did.
Looking beyond her, he noticed a large man on horseback with his back to Nathan. Was he a groom? Who did he belong to?
“I am unsure I will be staying, Duchess.”
“Of course you will,” Phillipa Blake said. “You are here with us, and if we are staying then so must you. Now we will move closer to the Deville brothers so the horseback riders are all nicely grouped.”
“Phillipa, that is not necessary,” Mary said, and Nathan watched her shoot Beth a look, then scowl at Zach, who was ignoring her. But it was too late, Phillipa was moving, and then Mary, which would leave Beth on her own. Nothing showed on her face, not one flicker of what she was feeling. But he knew she would rather walk across jagged rocks before coming closer to him. The feeling, he wanted to assure her, was mutual.
“Come along, Miss Carlow!” Phillipa shrilled.
