Louisa caught the duke’s lips twitching. It wasn’t exactly in amusement, but she chose, in the spirit of smoothing his feathers, to interpret it that way. “Do you find something amusing, Duke?”
“No, indeed.” He followed her lead. “I was only imagining how my youth would have been if I’d had a sister such as you.”
Louisa jolted.
A sister like her? She shivered at the prospect, her mind immediately rejecting the idea as she shifted her gaze to her brother, seated next to her and opposite Mortimer. Much better to have a younger brother! “Be glad you did not have one like me.”
He shrugged before his whole countenance turned all serious again. “Since you’ve taken charge of our arrangements, do you have a plan?”
Louisa paused. “I rather thought you had one. I just planned to join you.”
He suddenly chuckled. “Very well.”
Was he teasing her? No,mockingher? The rascal! “Well, I also have another motive for wishing to accompany you, but I shall only tell you once we arrive in Brighton.”
His brows furrowed but smoothed out again. “I look forward to learning this motive, then.”
“Me too,” Leo piped up.
“You shall learn nothing but patience,” Louisa retorted, her voice stern. “And perhaps more importantly, why you should never indulge strangers or accept sweets from them!”
“What would you have done, Louisa?” her brother exclaimed. “They said the book was dangerous. I...”
“It’s all right,” Louisa shushed her brother, patting his head, regretting her tone.
He was not to blame here. She was the one on that ridiculous list that derided her childbearing hips.Shewas the one whohad played a part in what transpired in London.Herfriend had entrusted the book to her.
“I would have done the same as you, Leo.” It was the only reassurance she could give her brother. Who was to judge another’s reaction in fright? Certainly not she. If anyone was truly to blame, it was the duke. Waiting so long, waiting until the book came to her. He should have known better.
“That’s right, Master Leo,” Mortimer murmured. “You were never in the wrong.”
The duke’s features almost turned sheepish. No, that couldn’t be right. Sheepish? She inspected his face. He returned her gaze with a magnetic one of his own.
Why on earth do I find it breathtaking instead of alarming? And why don’t I find it alarming that I don’t find it alarming?
She supposed alarm was a relative term at this point.
But he did possess some sort of pull...
“Intrigue.” If she had to describe that pull, it would be summed up inthatone, punchy word.
“I beg your pardon?” Mortimer asked, shifting back into his seat.
“Oh, do not mind her,” Leo answered for her. “She does that sometimes.”
“I do what?” Louisa questioned.
Her brother gave her an odd look, as though she’d gone mad. “Mutter single syllables or words that make no sense.”
I begyourpardon.“I don’t do that!” Heat flushed her cheeks.
Her brother’s brow arched alongside the duke’s.
“Whatever you are speaking of, it’s called a slip of one’s tongue.” Perhaps several slips, but did he have to make her sound like a madwoman?
“You talk to yourself,” her brother said. “Admit it, Louisa.”
“Why should I ever admit to that?” Thatwouldjust be madness, and she wasn’t mad.
