Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5)

by Lisa Kleypas

“There’s nothing better than having something you don’t deserve. Just say to yourself, ‘Hooray for me, I’m so very lucky. Not only do I have the biggest piece of cake, it’s a corner piece with a sugar-paste flower on top, and everyone else is sick with envy.’”

In fact”—the duchess sent a quick, vibrant glance to her husband—“the Westcliffs have just arrived, and I haven’t seen Lillian for ages. Do you mind if I—” “Go,” the duke said. “I know better than to stand between the two of you. Tell Westcliff I’ll be along in a moment.”

“Redbird,” Gabriel said, his tone gentling. It was the pet name only he and their father used for her. “You know I loved Henry. Come here.” She went to him, sniffling, and his arms closed around her in a comforting embrace.

“Kindness counts the most when it’s given to people who don’t deserve it.”

The fourteen-year-old boys, Ashton and Augustus, were the youngest offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Simon Hunt, who had been close friends to the Challons since before Phoebe had been born.

We call our friends names like ‘Spoony’ or ‘Knobby-knees.’ The better the friend, the worse the insult.” “But why not be nice?” “Because we’re boys.”

Seraphina were there to keep her company, as were Lord and Lady Westcliff, whom she and her siblings had always called “Uncle Marcus” and “Aunt Lillian.” Lord Westcliff’s hunting estate, Stony Cross Park, was located in Hampshire, not far from Eversby Priory. The earl and his wife, who had originally been an American heiress from New York, had raised three sons and three daughters. Although Aunt Lillian had teasingly invited Phoebe to have her pick of any of her robust and handsome sons, Phoebe had answered—quite truthfully—that such a union would have felt positively incestuous. The Marsdens and the Challons had spent too many family holidays together and had known each other for too long for any romantic sparks to fly between their offspring.

The Marsdens’ oldest daughter, Merritt, was one of Phoebe’s closest friends.

she would be accompanied by Westcliff’s oldest son, Lord Foxhall, whom she had known her entire life. He was a big, boldly handsome man in his twenties, an avid sportsman like his father.

Her bread plate was frequently replenished with piping-hot milk rolls and doughy slivers of stottie cake, served with thick curls of salted butter. The footmen brought out perfectly broiled game hens, the skin crisp and delicately heat-blistered . . . fried veal cutlets puddled in cognac sauce . . . slices of vegetable terrine studded with tiny boiled quail eggs. Brilliantly colorful salads were topped with dried flakes of smoked ham or paper-thin slices of pungent black truffle. Roasted joints of beef and lamb were presented and carved beside the table, the tender meat sliced thinly and served with drippings thickened into gravy.

“You should buckle to Mr. Ravenel,” he suggested. “A fine husband he’d make. You’d get some great rammin’ bairns off that one, certain sure.”

“You can reach that by yourself.” “My sweet,” he said, nuzzling into her neck, “I married you so I wouldn’t have to do it myself. Now . . . tell me where you think my sprain is.”

you’re meddling.” “From time to time, I may adjust a situation to achieve a desired outcome for the benefit of my children, but that’s not meddling.” “What do you call it, then?” “Parenting,” he said smugly,

For some reason, the sight of a cat riding in his pram struck the baby as uproariously funny, and he burst into giggles. Phoebe and Justin both chuckled, and even Nanny cracked a smile.

He cuddled her a little closer. “Poor lamb, did I give you a fright?”

“I think I’m in love with her. Either that, or I have a stomach disease with a side effect of uncontrollable sweating.

“It’s not all about what you want. It’s also about what she wants. No matter what your intentions, most women don’t like it when you make their decisions for them.”

“You have a backbone of steel. You went through months of hell looking after a small child, a dying husband and an entire household, with unholy patience. You missed meals and went without sleep, but you never forgot to read Justin a bedtime story and tuck him in at night. When you let yourself cry or fall apart, it was only in private, for a few minutes, and then you washed your face, put your broken heart back together, and went out with a cheerful expression and a half-dozen handkerchiefs in your pockets. And you did all of it while feeling queasy most of the time because you were expecting another child. You never failed the people who needed you. You’re not going to fail them now.”

He would go about his day as usual, starting with breakfast. The sideboard would be laden with broiled chops, eggs, rashers of bacon and ham, potatoes hashed with herbs and fried in butter, bread puddings each in its own puddle of sauce, a platter of crisp radishes and pickles on ice, dishes of stewed fruit from the orchard topped with fresh cream—

Devon’s frown eased. “You can’t outrun your problems.” “Actually, I can,” West said, walking away with the basket. “Look—I’m doing it right now.”

“You can always swim out of quicksand as long as you don’t panic.” Or send for me, and I’ll come throw you a rope. —W. R.

“If the hero hasn’t turned up, you may have to settle for the villain.” “If the villain’s the one who turns up, he is the hero.”

Justin studied West intently, rubbing his palms over his hair-roughened jaw. “I don’t like your beard,” he announced. “It makes you look like an angry bear.”

Ransom admitted bluntly, and shrugged. “But Garrett saved my life. She can do whatever she likes with me now.

But I’ve come to realize Mam had it all wrong: the problem was never that Da was too strong—he wasn’t strong enough. Only a weak man lowers himself to brutishness.”

Quickly West reached out to the toddler’s blond head, pulled him closer and crushed a brief kiss among the soft curls. Had there been any doubts lingering in Phoebe’s mind, they were demolished in that moment. Oh, yes . . . I want this man.

Neither do I deserve my wife. It’s an unfair fact of life that the worst men end up with the best women.”