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“And none taken,” Maximus murmured as he took a sip of his wine.

“But all persons of manners must have an opinion on chocolate,” the older man continued, “and indeed other beverages, and when they ought to be taken, how, and with what other suitable foodstuffs. Lady Penelope shows great sensitivity to have such a pretty turn of mind on the matter.”

Maximus arched a brow at his rival. Really, the man had certainly won this round by the simple expedient of having been able to articulate such nonsense with a perfectly straight face. What was more—he checked Lady Penelope’s expression closely, sighing silently when he found the expected—the lady had swallowed the sweetly wrapped offal, hook, line, and sinker. Maximus discreetly tipped his wineglass to the older man.

o;You never mention it aloud. Is your relationship a secret?”

“It’s not.” She wrinkled her nose and amended her statement. “At least on my part it isn’t. My grandfather has never acknowledged me. Papa had a falling out with his father when he married Mama, and apparently stubbornness runs in the family.”

Maximus grunted. “You said your grandfather never acknowledged you. Did he acknowledge your brother?”

“In his way.” She strode along, the greyhounds at her side. It struck him that had she a bow at her back and a quiver of arrows, she could’ve posed for a painting of the goddess she’d been named for. “As Apollo was his future heir, apparently Grandfather thought it important he be properly educated. He paid for Apollo’s schooling at Harrow. Apollo says he’s even met Grandfather once or twice.”

He sucked in a breath. “Your grandfather has never even met you?”

She shook her head. “Not to my knowledge.”

He frowned. The idea of abandoning family was anathema to him. He couldn’t conceive of doing it for any reason.

He looked at her closely, a thought striking him. “Did you try contacting him when…?”

“When my mother was dying and Apollo had been arrested and we were quite desperate?” She snorted. “Of course I did. He never replied to the letters I sent. If Mama hadn’t written to her cousin, the Earl of Brightmore, I don’t know what I would’ve done. We were penniless, Papa had been dead less than a year, Mama was on her deathbed, and Thomas called off our engagement. I would’ve been on the street.”

He stopped short. “You were engaged.”

She took two more strides before she realized that he was no longer beside her. She looked over her shoulder at him, that not-smile on the bow of her lips. “I’ve found a fact you didn’t know about me?”

He nodded mutely. Why? Why hadn’t he considered this? Four years ago she would’ve been four and twenty. Of course she’d had suitors.

“Well, I shouldn’t feel too bad,” she replied. “We hadn’t announced it yet, which was a good thing: it made it so much easier for him to call it off discreetly without seeming like a cad.”

Maximus glanced away so she couldn’t examine too closely the expression on his face. “Who was he?”

“Thomas Stone. The son of the town’s doctor.”

He sneered. “Beneath you.”

Her gaze hardened. “As you so kindly pointed out, my father was notorious for his flights of fancy. Too, I had no dowry to speak of. I couldn’t very well be choosy. Besides”—her tone softened—“Thomas was quite sweet. He used to bring me daisies and violets.”

He stared, incredulous. What sort of imbecile brought such common flowers to a goddess? Were it him, he’d shower her with hothouse lilies, peonies overflowing with perfumed bloom, roses in every shade.

Bah, violets.

He shook his head irritably. “But he stopped bringing those flowers, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” Her lips twisted. “As soon as the news of Apollo’s arrest got out, in fact.”

He stepped closer, watching her face for any minute signs, wanting to see what would break her. Had she fancied herself in love with the doctor’s son? “I detect a trace of bitterness.”

“He did say he loved me more than the sun,” she said, her voice as dry and brittle as ashes.

“Ah.” He looked up as they emerged from the woods at the brightly shining sun. The man had been an idiot and a cad, no matter if he’d managed to save his own good name. Besides. Anyone could see she was tied to the moon, not the sun. “Then I wish I had it in my power to make him live without the sun for the rest of his pitiful life.”

She stopped and glanced at him. “That’s a romantic thing to say.”

He shook his head. “I’m not a romantic man, Miss Greaves. I don’t say things that I don’t mean. I find it a waste of time.”

“Do you?” she looked at him oddly for a moment, then sighed and glanced toward the house. “We’re no longer in the woods, are we? The day is about to begin.”

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