Page 55 of Miss Devon’s Choice

Christian barked out a laugh and held his hand out to the boy. “Sono entrambi bravi quando mi parli.”

Rebecca looked back and forth between them when Harry shook his lordship’s hand, looking a trifle sheepish.

“What on earth are you two saying to one another?”

“Your brother knows enough Italian to have a pleasant or rude conversation in my mother tongue. I told him I appreciate either.” Christian gave a command to Ajax, who came to heel. “I must see to Ajax and clean up. I am not fit for polite company at the moment. Will I see you both at luncheon?”

“Yes, of course.” Rebecca studied him, tilting her head to the side. Something about Christian had changed; he even stood differently. There was an easiness to his manner she had first noticed when they took their leave of her sisters. His posture was relaxed, his hands hung loosely at his side instead of clenched or tucked tightly in his folded arms. The tightness around his mouth and eyes had eased, too. Had the hunt put him in a comfortable frame of mind? Or was it their shared kiss?

She blushed to remember it, then realized he remained there, watching her, both his eyebrows raised. Heat rushed into her cheeks. How long had they been silently staring at one another?

“I-I will see you at luncheon,” she stammered out, raising her hand to push her hair back again, though it didn’t need her attention.

A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. Her breath caught in surprise at the way her heart stuttered upon seeing that smile. It was as if he knew she was thinking of their kiss—

“Until then, mi bella.” He bowed, then turned to continue down the path, whistling to himself as he went.

Rebecca watched him go, Ajax trotting at his side with tail held high, and she imagined Christian was grinning as widely as his dog. His square shoulders and straight form cut a dashing figure as he strode down the walkway, a confidence in his step she could not help but admire.

“I think he likes you. More than a little bit.”

She started, looking over her shoulder. Harry had the most impudent, pleased look on his face. In fact, he appeared to be trying not to laugh.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at him. “Horrendous Horace, that isn’t funny in the least. If you tease me about this, I promise I will make your life miserable.”

The laughter escaped him, despite Rebecca’s threats. She crossed her arms and glared at her brother, but after a moment she could not help smiling.

“Ah, Rebecca.” He came forward and wrapped his arm around her still-tense shoulders. “He really likes you. I’m glad, truly I am. I didn’t know what I expected, with the way Father’s been talking of the arrangement.”

She relaxed and lowered her eyes to the walk. “I know. I didn’t expect Christian, either.”

Harry gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Of course, how Lord Easton could like you enough to overlook those ghastly freckles on your cheeks, I’ll never know—” He broke off when Rebecca pinched him in the side and before long they were both laughing.

Her heart lightened considerably, Rebecca almost forgot her father’s presence. She couldn’t completely. What if he learned of Julia’s visit? What if he had further stipulations to push upon Rebecca? She could only hope his sudden appearance in the country didn’t damage all her efforts with Christian. If ever a thing could be ruined, her father seemed to find a way to do it.

Four weeks. In four weeks, she wedded Christian. And she would be free.

Chapter Twenty

Rebecca tried to escape the private conversation with her father, but he waited until Harry and she returned from the gardens. The moment they stepped into the entry hall, he was there, standing stiff and colder than the marble statues decorating the gardens.

“We cannot stay, but I must speak to you in private, Rebecca,” he said, something about his look making her feel immediately ill.

I haven’t done anything wrong, she reminded herself as she led the way into a small parlor off the hall. She looked back once, over her father’s shoulder, to see Harry give her an encouraging grin. Taking courage from that, she shut the door to the room after her father stepped inside.

“I hope your journey was an easy one, Father,” she said, folding her hands meekly before her.

Mr. Devon had his back to her, standing in the middle of the pleasant little room rather like a weed in a patch of flowers. “How could a journey ever be pleasant when one is faced with such news as I have received?” Each word was spoken with barely-restrained hostility.

Rebecca stood very still, sensing the change in the air. Something was terribly wrong.

“What news, Father?” she asked, forcing her voice loud enough to be heard. There was anger in his stance, and frost in his voice.

“News from my solicitor. A letter, in fact, from the Earl of Ivyford.” He turned, his presence filling the room and making her shiver. “It seems he heard from his grandson. They are going to break the marriage contract.”

Rebecca’s heart faltered. “What?” She started shaking her head, barely aware of her own movements. “That cannot be. He hasn’t—Lord Easton, he hasn’t said anything of the kind to me.” Had he even once indicated that he might not wish to marry her?

No. Even when they’d been arguing upon the lake, he’d never even hinted that he wished to end their betrothal.