Warwick had retreated to see to a crying child. Ella, he noted, was still happy with Miss Knight. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Michael, watching Gabe talk to Plunge.
“It’s my belief that Miss Knight makes you frown. And shall I tell you why I believe that?” Michael whispered so only he could hear.
“By all means please do, as it is a total falsehood but should be a humorous story.” Forrest was talking softly, as the duchess and Gabe were now having a heated debate and he did not want to draw her fire. The woman was terrifying and felt that when she spoke, in any form, all should be silent.
“You can’t take your eyes off her and get a certain look in them when she is near,” Michael said.
“What look?” He kept his voice calm so as not to have anyone else with Deville blood enter the conversation. A few of them had now spoken of his interest in Ruby. Clearly, he needed to try harder to dissuade them. But then, he’d thought he had lately. Since the kiss, he’d all but ignored her.
Today he hadn’t. Today he’d seen her looking nervous and vulnerable among them and felt an ache start deep in his chest. He’d hoped it was indigestion.
“This one.” Michael contorted his face into a pious expression.
“You look like you need to find a place to relieve yourself.”
“I know I’m right, cousin. For what it’s worth, I like her.”
“As you are barking mad and your worth has just plummeted along with your intelligence, I shall ignore you.”
“I will be heard!” The duchess stomped her walking stick down on Lord Plunge’s foot. Beside her sat her new companion, one of six she’d had since Dimity had left her. This one was cowering in the corner.
“We are aware you have a voice, Duchess,” Gabe said. “You use it loudly and frequently, as is evidenced by yet another terrified companion.”
The Duchess of Yardly was a constant guest in the Deville households. She had infiltrated their ranks, and they’d not been able to shake her since. She was caustic and had the ability to reduce a person to tears, men and women, with just a handful of words, and those were her good qualities.
“Wearing another fashion disaster, I see,” Zach said, moving to take the duchess’s hand and help her from the carriage, as Gabe had his arms crossed and was glaring at her.
Forrest focused on the duchess and ignored Michael. If anyone could take his mind off Ruby, it would be her. The woman was eccentric, wicked, and terrifying. He found he liked her very much despite the reasons he shouldn’t.
She wore brown today. Not a soft leaf brown, it was like the sludge London streets formed after a day of rain. Her bonnet was straw and surrounded by a garden of flowers and small birds.
“Your robin is fetching, though,” Zach said, righting the bird that was in peril of plunging to the ground.
“It’s called style, boy!”
“I think we’ve discussed the fact that, this”—he waved a hand at her clothing—“is not a style I, or anyone else, am inspired to follow.”
“Duchess!”
Forrest turned to watch his daughter arrive. One of life’s little wonders was the fact the old tartar could be sweet and loving to Ella, and the child loved her back. In fact, to his mind that was her saving grace. She loved all children and animals.
“Hello, darling.” The duchess smacked Zach’s hand aside and bent to greet the little girl.
“Do you think it’s because she can speak on their level?” Michael mused. “Or that they don’t answer her back?”
“It’s a mystery,” Forrest said, watching the reunion.
They hugged, and Ella planted a loud, smacking kiss on a wrinkled cheek. Forrest ran a hand over his daughter’s lips to remove the white powder that had transferred there.
“Well, Plunge, why do you have my dog and the Duchess with you?” Gabe demanded.
“I was passing her house and noted a ruckus,” Lord Plunge said, stepping down.
The man wore knee breeches and shoes with bright gold buckles.
“Knee breeches, really?” Michael asked.
“It is a style I have always admired,” Plunge said.
