Page 5 of Ne'er Duke Well
Stodgy, in a word.
“And is your brother the duke also soold?”
Oh mercy, how could she not laugh?
“Why yes,” Selina said. “Similarly, er, decrepit.”
Peter made a choked sound.
“And is your—”
“Thank you, Lu,” said Peter, slinging an arm companionably about the girl’s small shoulders. “That’s probably enough character assassination for one day.”
“Fine,” said Lu. “Pardon me for making conversation with the first interesting person we’ve met in London.”
Somehow, this rather backhanded compliment had Selina feeling quite pleased with herself. Ridiculously gowned and halfway to scandal she might be, but at least this funny little child found her interesting.
“Surely not,” Peter protested.
Selina felt herself deflate.
“I just took you to meet Angelo, didn’t I?” Peter continued. “That was certainly interesting.”
“You would not permit me to speak, so it’s not as though I could make conversation—”
Selina couldn’t stop herself. “You took your sister to afencing parlor?” At least that explained the masculine attire.
Peter, Freddie, and Lu turned identical guilty gazes toward her, and Selina was powerfully struck by the resemblance among the three of them. The same brown curls, lit by hints of auburn in the sun. The bird-like bones of the children were echoed in Peter’s lean, muscular frame, and in Lu’s gamine face she could see Peter’s same mischievous charm.
“I am going,” Lu said with some dignity, “to learn how to fence.”
“Though probably not at Angelo’s,” Peter put in.
“Certainly not,” Selina said. “I was taught to fence in my own home, which is the only acceptable location for a lady of quality to learn the sport.”
“Youwere?” exclaimed Lu, losing all track of her composure.
Peter’s lips curled up. “Are you suggesting that Lu learn how to fence in… your home?”
Selina scowled. “Not at all. I meant—oh, you imbecile, you knew what I meant.”
Lu grinned what Selina was starting to think of as the Kent family grin. “Oh, I like her.”
“Of course you do,” Peter said. “She wants you to learn how to stab people.”
“Might I suggest,” Selina said drily, “that you hire a fencing master to attend both of your siblings at the Stanhope residence?”
Peter frowned, and Selina felt her brows go up. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him frown. “The children do not reside with me.”
“They don’t?” She couldn’t help the rather appalled tone of her voice, though even as she said it, she supposed she was being absurd. Of course they didn’t. What handsome single young aristocrat would house two small children in his London residence during the Season if he had any other option?
What aristocrat other than her older brother Nicholas, of course.
She and her twin, Will, had been six when their parents had died. Six years old, and half out of their wits with terror at the fear of what would become of them. They’d huddled together under the bed linens for the first time in years, wondering whether they’d be sent away to live with some ancient relative they did not know.
But instead, Nicholas had abandoned Oxford and, all of twenty years old, had come home to raise them himself.
“They don’t live with me, no,” Peter said, and his voice sounded uncharacteristically grim. “But not for want of trying.”
