Page 54 of Miss Devon’s Choice

Rebecca chuckled, the sound a little dampened by her tears, and stepped back. “I am fine, Harry. I will admit to being terribly uncertain at first, but I have come to know the viscount better this week past. I think we will get on well together. If anything, that should please our father.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I would like to meet Lord Easton. I’m sorry to hear all the men are gone shooting. I’m not certain how long father will stay in the house with Aunt Jacqueline here and no one else to impress. He did say he wanted a private word with you, though.”

Rebecca brushed aside that comment without concern. After all, she’d done nothing to upset her father this time.

“The gentlemen said they would be back at luncheon. Surely that is not too far off. I am certain Virginia will persuade Father to stay that long, at least. The promise to speak to the earl will likely keep him here.” She winced as she spoke, realizing how disrespectful the words sounded. But they were true, and Harry’s nod said that he knew it as well as she did.

“What were you doing under that tree?” Harry asked, looking out one of the long windows that faced the front lawn. “I didn’t even see you there until you shouted at me.”

“I was reading,” she admitted with a shrug.

“Something scandalous?” Harry asked with a crooked smile. Oh, he knew her well.

“Only according to our aunt’s idea of the word.” Rebecca grimaced and folded her arms, though she failed to hold in what she most wished to say. “Just you wait, Harry. When I’m married, I will fill an entire room with novels and then invite you to come and stay to read them all with me.”

Harry chuckled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I hope so. I’d much rather spend summer holidays with you than at Whitewood.” He shuddered as he named their family estate. “That house is cold and empty without you girls flouncing about.”

Rebecca gasped in pretended horror. “I do not flounce, Horrible Horace, and you know it.”

He laughed. “Come, let’s go for a walk in the gardens. Then if Father doesn’t agree to stay he might at least consider leaving me behind when we aren’t readily found.”

“School has made you devious, Harry.” She linked her arm through his and pulled him to the music room. They went through the secret passage and the servants’ stair, avoiding detection. She supposed she had become devious, too, even without the excuse of school.

As they strolled about the back gardens, Rebecca made it a point to keep Harry talking of himself. She asked him questions about school, his friends, his summer holiday, and every topic she thought a boy would enjoy expounding upon. Though he possessed a young man’s typical aptitude for short responses, after a few minutes he was speaking more freely and easily.

He was in the midst of telling her about a joke played on one of the most universally disliked professors when Rebecca felt eyes upon her. The sensation wasn’t frightening in the least, but an awareness that someone was looking at her. She turned, already knowing who it would be. Christian stood between two hedges, on a path leading to the stables and kennels, watching her.

Unbidden, a smile overtook her lips and she stepped in his direction. “Christian,” she called, then hurried to his side, leaving her brother in the midst of a sentence.

Christian held his hand out when she drew near. She slid her hand into his, smiling up into his deep brown eyes. To her delight, though his expression was as solemn as always, she could see the barest hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

“How was your hunt?” she asked.

“Enjoyable. Especially for Ajax.” He turned and called to the dog in Italian. The red hunter burst out of a bush, tail wagging madly, and trotted up to Rebecca to greet her with a dog-grin and lolling tongue.

Rebecca crouched to rub Ajax’s ears with both hands, glancing up when Harry joined them. Without standing, her hands still buried in dog fur, she made the introductions.

“Christian, may I introduce my brother, Horace Devon? Harry, this is Christian Hundley, Lord Easton.”

Harry bowed his gangly form, but his eyes stayed on the viscount, his stare pointed. “A pleasure, my lord,” he said, his tone politer than Rebecca had ever heard from him. “I hope you know how lucky you are, marrying Rebecca. She’s my favorite sister.”

Rebecca started. “Harry!”

Christian’s lips quirked upward. “She’s my favorite of all the Devons.” He directed that crooked smile at Rebecca. “You’re going to spoil my dog.”

She snorted. “I’ve seen you dote on him even worse.” Rebecca stood, brushing at her skirts with her bare hands. They were quite covered in short red hairs. “Bother. Another dress ruined.” She couldn’t help feeling gleeful at the thought.

“It’s dog hair,” Harry pointed out. “A good brushing will get it off.”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him, then looked back to the hunter. “Ajax, here boy.” She patted her legs and the dog immediately jumped forward, both paws landing squarely on her middle. Harry caught her arm when she stumbled a step backward and Christian rebuked the dog for jumping.

“Oh, don’t fuss.” Rebecca pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and examined her skirts again. “He’s done exactly as I wished. Good boy, Ajax.”

Harry, staring at her like she was a mad woman, shook his head. “I believe it would be ‘bravo cane,’ if the beast responds to Italian.”

Christian raised his eyebrows. “You are learning Italian? Quanto bene parli?”

With a shrug and red cheeks, her brother replied. “Ne so abbastanza per essere educato o molto maleducato.”