Her brother huffed out a breath and looked away. Heh! She should have left him at home, the cheeky brat. And yet, she’d come to accept the undeniable truth: she was one of those sisters who doted on their brother beyond reason.
She caught Mortimer’s gaze. She couldn’t decipher what she saw in their depth, but the flush on her cheeks spread through her whole body.
Louisa quickly averted her gaze.
Why was her heart pulsing in her chest, her belly, and her throat all at the same time?
*
Oliver leaned againstthe outside wall of The Trotting Horse, observing as Lady Louisa chastised her brother for a misstep. Little Leo had followed a stable hand into the stables without so much as a word to her, or to him—and without either hesitation or suspicion. Too trusting, this lad. He lacked the skill his father should have taught him—awareness of the dangers that might lurk in his surroundings. Ill intent did not always wear a villain’s sneer. A wandering child, unaware of the risks, was an easy mark. A boy of his station, even more so.
Lady Louisa certainly recognized the danger, and he couldn’t fault her for reprimanding her brother. The boy needed to learn that trust given too freely could lead to consequences far graver than a scolding. That still hadn’t stopped the young man from acting haughty afterward at breakfast, prompting another reprimand.
These two were truly amusing to watch.
The trip to Brighton had proven far more uneventful than Oliver expected. The angel had been surprisingly well-behaved and even unusually quiet during their trip. Not that he wantedit any other way, but he couldn’t help but wonder when the next blow might land.
It was sure to leave a mark when it did.
A stuffy feeling entered his chest. It rather felt like he was traveling with family, and not the daughter and son of his family’s enemy. He could just imagine Talbot’s fury if he ever discovered these events.
Not that he wanted to tempt fate.
Talbot’s ire would be bad for him. And he didn’t have the time or the inclination to fight off Talbot. He’d rather fight battles worth fighting. Family feuds, however, weren’t so easily unraveled—grudges had a way of sinking deep. Old dogs didn’t just hold onto their grudges, they guarded them, nurtured them, passed them down like heirlooms. It would be up to the younger generations to break the cycle—if they weren’t already trained to carry it onward.
And speaking of families that held grudges, Oliver hoped again that the Fury brothers wouldn’t make things too difficult for them in Brighton. He wanted to get those bickering Talbots home as soon as possible.
A small girl with a teary face overlapped the image of Lady Louisa in his mind. How many years had it been since his father had stolen that little child away? That single act had ignited the feud into an all out war at the time, sealing the bad blood between their families. Talbot had put a hole in his father’s shoulder, but the old man had lived.
And yet, Lady Louisa showed no visible repulsion toward him as a Mortimer. No wariness. No lingering hatred. Fear. Almost as if she were unaware.
Had she blocked the events from her mind? Or had it never been revealed to her who had been behind the deeds ten years ago? That must be it—in all likelihood, her father had never informed her. Perhaps to spare her more distress.
She suddenly turned to him, and their gazes collided. Oliver’s muscles tensed, and his spine straightened as if bracing for impact. But the blow had already landed.
One smart brow rose, and she called out, “Are you just going to stand there the whole day, or are we setting off?”
Oliver strode over, nodding at his men. The angel was better off forgetting the anguish of the past. Forgetting about him. Since she didn’t remember him from back then, let it stay that way. “Are you always this lively in the morning?”
The young Talbot heir cast a miserable look his way. “Yes, she is.”
“Little brat, that is only because of your brattish comments.”
The boy pouted. “What’s so brattish about wanting steamed fish for breakfast?”
She poked his forehead. “You don’t even demand steamed fish for breakfast from our own cook! How can you demand it from the innkeeper?”
“Didn’t you once say a person should enjoy the things outside that you can’t enjoy at home?”
“Whenever did I say that to you?” She asked, eyes wide.
“You didn’t say it to me.” Leo lifted his shoulders in an innocent shrug. “I heard you and your friends speak of it before you slipped out of the house to go to an alehouse.”
“That . . .”
Alehouse? A particular one came to mind. One owned by her stepmother. Oliver patted the boy’s head. “You do make a valid argument, and so does your sister.” To Louisa, he said. “A tavern called The Rose perhaps?” Her heiress friends had been there a time or two while Oliver had been doing surveillance of the establishment, but he had never spotted her there.
“No,” she said. “It was called something else, but I can’t recall.”
