Page 72 of Brigand

“I hate flowers.” It was highly impolite to hiss like this.She didn’t care. His brow arched. “Oh, I love flowers…in a garden. In a roomlike this, they are rather overpowering.”

“Lord Winslett. Mr. St. Andrews. Welcome,” Kaitlin cooedfrom behind her.

Ewan nodded at the duchess but then his attention snapped toViolet. He thrust the box at her. “I brought you strawberries.”

Violet’s eyes widened. She paled. Her belly roiled. “Whyever did you do that?”

“Malcolm told me you liked them. At dinner last night.”

Kaitlin snorted a laugh. “She cannot eat strawberries. Theygive her spots.”

A flush crawled up his face.

The duchess grinned. “A suggestion, sir?”

“Please.”

“Don’t take any more advice from her brothers.” Kaitlinsmirked. “I, on the other hand, love strawberries.” She took the box. “Thankyou so much, Mr. St. Andrews. Very thoughtful.” Her voice rose as she headedback to the others, dragging Violet with her.

Violet sat at the far end of the divan, away from Dittenham.To her delight, Ewan sat next to her. His thigh grazed hers as he settledhimself.

“Would you care for tea, Mr. St. Andrews?” This,Hortense warbled with an amused glint. She clearly enjoyed the subterfuge.

“Thank you, no.” But when Violet passed him a plate ofcakes, he took one, and the opportunity to stare soulfully at her. From thatangle, no one else could see his expression. No one but Ned.

Her brother strolled over to the divan and gusted a sigh.“It is so heartening to see so many men paying their respects to my sister.”Then, to her horror, Ned insinuated himself between her and Ewan on the divan,tossing an arm over both their shoulders.

“She is quite lovely,” Dittenham purred.

“Quite.” Like lemmings, they all echoed the word.

Violet forbore from rolling her eyes, but only just. “Sophiais quite lovely too.” There was a measure of satisfaction in dressing themdown. And then amusement as they all scuttled to compliment Sophia as well.

“Did you know your brother was in a French prison during thewar?” Berkeley—or was it Bingham?—asked. This sent the conversation into awhole new direction but Violet was fairly oblivious. She was stunned at thisrevelation.

Ewan had been in a French prison?

She leaned around Ned to send Ewan a searching glance. Hetendered a sheepish smile in response.

For the next while, the men talked amongst themselves andplied the women with effusive compliments and ate all the really nice cakes.Violet made it a point to gore Ned regularly with her elbow but he didn’t takethe hint and move, so Violet—again—didn’t have a chance to speak with Ewan.

When Aunt Hortense peered at the ormolu clock and sighed,the visitors, all well-trained in the politesse of the morning call,came to their feet. Ned sprang up and led the way to the door. Violet stood aswell, though she might have stood too quickly. Or the flowers really were atouch too much. Or she should have had more to eat. Because all the bloodrushed from her head and wooziness assailed her.

She put out a hand. A tiny sound passed her lips.

Ewan’s head whipped around. Their gazes tangled and concernflitted across his face. “Violet? Are you all right?”

She opened her mouth to respond but no words came out.

The giddiness rose. Her vision went cloudy. And she feltherself falling.

He caught her.

Of course he did.

He was her Ewan. He would always catch her.

That was the last thought she had before everything wentblack.