Evie stared at her sister.
Were they even talking about the same person?
“She has asquirrel.”
“A very practical pet. Small, tidy, doesn’t require a lot of care like a dog or a horse or a pig.”
“Who do you know that has a pet pig?” Evie demanded.
Joanna lifted her shoulder in a careless shrug. “I am just saying, of all the animals that Rosemarycouldhave chosen, a squirrel is hardly the worst. From everything she has said, Sir Reginald is quite well behaved.”
“That may be true, but Hanover isn’t. I had the opportunity to have a long conversation with him during the house party at Hawkridge Manor, and while he is admittedly handsome and charming and affable, he drinks like a fish and chases anything in a skirt.” Evie sipped her coffee. “Did I ever tell you that he asked me to be his mistress?”
Joanna dropped her toast. “No you most certainly didnot. Honestly, I don’t know what’s more shocking. The fact that you wouldn’t tell me, or that you refused his offer.” Her eyes narrowed. “You did refuse, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did. I had my heart set on Weston by then and love makes you do stupid things, like refusing the attentions of a duke.” Evie gave a long, wistful sigh. “The Duchess of Hanoverdoeshave a nice ring to it. But I’m firmly settled on being the Countess of Hawkridge.”
Picking up an orange nectarine from a bowl of fruit in the middle of the table, Joanna began to peel it with quick, efficient swipes of her thumbnail. “I’m so sorry you have to bejusta countess. How horrific for you.”
Having grown used to her sister’s jests after a lifetime of sibling sparring, Evie smiled thinly. “I am sure I’ll manage. But what about Rosemary?”
“We should definitely find a way to speak to her.” Joanna popped a slice of nectarine into her mouth and then drummed her fingers on the table as her brow creased in thought. “Especially given Hanover’s current…entanglement.”
“You mean the murder of his mistress. He told me about that.”
She nodded. “Kincaid has been working on clearing his name for some time. Almost since the day he and I met, actually. The case has been a mystery since it began, and nothing is as it seems. We’ve recently discovered some unnerving facts that might even place Hanover’s life in danger. But since he asked Rosemary to be his wife, I’m sure she knows all about it.”
The two sisters exchanged a skeptical look. Having both met Sterling, neither were confident in the duke’s willingness to be forthcoming. While he presented himself as an open book on the outside, those tormented gray eyes contained more than a few secrets.
“I’ll get my hat,” Evie announced.
“I’ll get my reticule,” said Joanna.
A servant was opening the front door for them when Weston came strolling out of his study and into the foyer. Noting his fiancée’s pelisse and bonnet, he notched a brow as an amused smile toyed with the corner of his mouth.
“Off to do more wedding planning?” he asked, walking up behind Evie and gently nudging her coiffure to the side so that he could place a light kiss upon the nape of her neck while Joanna mimed gagging into her glove.
“No,” said Evie, glaring at her sister, “we’re actually going to see Rosemary.”
“Your cousin?” Weston remarked with mild surprise. “I was under the impression that Lady Ellinwood wasn’t overly fond of her granddaughter’s recalcitrant American relatives.”
“Recalcitrant,” Joanna repeated. “I like the sound of that.”
Evie turned into Weston’s broad chest and adjusted the lay of his four-in-hand tie. “Lady Ellinwood may not like us, but given that Rosemary is soon to outrank her, the decision on whether or not we are allowed to pay call is no longer hers to make.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Duke of Hanover proposed to Rosemary last night at the Marigold Ball,” Joanna explained. “If Lady M is to be believed, Rosemary accepted and they are now engaged.”
“The devil he did!” Weston said with such uncharacteristic virulence that both Evie and Joanna stopped and stared. A composed and oft times aloof man (unless he happened to be in the company of his recalcitrant American fiancée), the Earl of Hawkridge was rarely given to fits of emotional outburst.
“I thought Hanover was your friend,” Evie ventured.
“He is.” A vein pulsed on the side of Weston’s temple. “But that doesn’t mean I want my family eternally connected to his. Sterling is a scoundrel. He’s always been a scoundrel. He’ll alwaysbea scoundrel. Which makes for an entertaining companion at the gaming hell. But not a good husband for your cousin.”
“That’s why we were on our way to pay her a visit and try to find out how this came to be,” said Joanna, gesturing at the door. “Evie? Are you ready?”
“I’ll join you outside in a moment.” Evie waited until her sister had left and the door had closed to wind her arms around Weston’s neck, rise up on her toes, and claim his mouth with hers in a long, slow, drugging kiss that left them both breathless and panting by the end of it.
