“He is our cousin and therefore we must love him,” Zach said with a mouth full of food.
The duchess harrumphed, which could mean any number of things.
“I shall read first.” Cambridge Sinclair wandered up, having only just arrived. “We cannot have Howarth reading it woodenly and therefore ruining the telling of such a wonderful literary piece of art.”
“Come now. Art?” Forrest said as Cam patted him on the shoulder.
The crowd booed.
“No more, cousin, or they will maim you,” Zach said.
From what he’d been told, the duchess’s literary salons were usually frequented by a core group of noblemen, and the occasional poor sod who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Case in point, Forrest.
Cambridge Sinclair was the exact opposite of his brothers. Loud, gregarious, and of a slighter build. But there was no doubting his loyalty and love for his family the few times Forrest had seen them together.
“There is something just a bit odd about them, don’t you think?” Forrest said to Michael.
“The Sinclairs?”
“Yes.”
“More than a bit, cousin. But we like them just the same.”
“Now, hand over that book, Duchess.” Cambridge held out a hand.
The duchess shot Forrest a look, which he ignored, and reluctantly handed over the book she’d pulled from her reticule.
“I’m using your carriage, Plunge.” Cam vaulted up the steps and stood in the doorway.
“I say, is this a literary salon?”
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
“It has all the players, Plunge, and he’s holding the book.” Gabe sighed. “Why am I constantly thrust into these situations? Why does no one warn me?”
“It’s good for your sturdy soul, my love.” Dimity waddled closer.
“Is that what it is?”
Others arrived sounding excited, and soon there was quite the gathering.
“Papa, that man looks pretty.”
Forrest looked down at his daughter; she was looking at Plunge.
“Very much so.”
“You may also enjoy this, Miss Knight. It is one of the famous literary salons that happen when you least expect them in London.”
Her eyes were moving through the guests, and like his daughter settled on Lord Plunge also.
“Do you by any chance read the adventures of Captain Broadbent and Lady Nauticus?”
Ruby had two dresses that she wore to work: gray or brown. Today it was the gray, drab and unflattering, unlike the dress she’d worn in the park. Her hair was scraped back in a tight bun and tucked under the ugly bonnet. He’d liked it better when it was loose and fluttering around her cheeks.
“I have heard of them, Mr. Howarth. My brother has read a few.”
“I liked Adam. I think we should invite him over for tea, Papa.”
