“Well, it is,” Willow reaffirmed. “If I penned down all of theleastlikely gentlemen to aid my sister, you would have been on the top of that list.”
“And why is that, Duchess?”
“Oh, you are known to have a brooding temperament and a quick temper. Not to mention you lack the subtle charm that most gentlemen possess.”
“I have charm,” he muttered.
Holly was clearly smothering a smile. “I’m sure Warton regrets the curiosity that led him to stumble upon me,” she teased.
Willow glanced between the two. Warton only grunted in response, but the small pull of his lips told Willow he found their remarks amusing. But the smile her sister sent his way was more than mere gratefulness. Willow knew her sister well, had spent a lifetime learning the small expressions that gave away the beginning of an infatuation. This was one of them.
Willow’s brow puckered. She felt it her sisterly duty to advise against any infatuations for the time being. “Please do not accept another proposal before the dust has settled.”
The slight color of Holly’s cheeks turned molten. “Do not be silly; I have no wish to fall into the same trap again. And I doubt there’s a man in England who would ask for my hand after today,” she muttered in a hushed tone. “In any case, I’m practically betrothed to Lord Jonathan Griffin now, am I not?”
“You are not betrothed yet, and with any luck, you won’t be. Best not to provoke St. Ives further until this matter with his brother is resolved.”
“Do not worry; I shall not fall in love on a whim again.”
Willow stifled a snort. She hoped so. But mostly she hoped that if her sister did fall in love again, it would not be with the wrong man this time—and it would be lasting rather than fleeting.
“That is all I ask,” Willow murmured. “In any event, I can see that you are in capable hands. Come, I must be off.”
“So soon?”
Willow gave a reluctant nod in reply. She knew she’d already been absent long enough.
“Take care of my sister,” she told Warton. “The next time we meet, I hope it will be under better circumstances.”
Warton inclined his head.
That he was her sister’s reluctant champion was truly remarkable in itself, Willow thought once again. The Marquis was known for his low tolerance for silly antics, and the Middleton sisters were often synonymous with silly—at least in the past.
“Be well,” Holly murmured.
She planned on being just that. Beyond relieved her sister was safe and happy, Willow could now shift her attention toward her husband.
Anticipation rippled along her spine. She should be furious—and part of her still was—but she was thrilled, as well. She planned on peeling away the layers of the duke until she found the man beneath the mask.
Who would’ve guessed she loved sparing with her testy duke so much?
