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Phoebe had never met West Ravenel, but she knew one thing for certain: He was a mean, rotten bully.
Phoebe was mortified by her inability to speak. Her heartbeat was stampeding out of control. “Mama isn’t used to talking to grown-ups,” Justin said. “She likes children better.” “I’m very childlike,” the man said promptly. “Ask anyone around here.”
The child was appalled by the suggestion. “I can’t sleep in your room,” he said indignantly. “Why not?” “People might think we were married!” West concentrated on a distant spot on the floor, struggling to hold back a laugh.
The boy heaved a sigh and reached up for her hand. Looking up at West, he explained, “Stephen is my baby brother. He can’t talk, and he smells like rotten turtles.” “Not all the time,” Lady Clare protested. Justin only shook his head, as if the point weren’t worth debating.
Seeming relieved, she curtsied gracefully and whisked her son away as if they were escaping something. Baffled, West stared after her. This wasn’t the first time a highly respectable woman had given him the cold shoulder. But it was the first time it had ever stung.
“Oh, I never need invitations,” came Severin’s matter-of-fact reply. “I go wherever I want. I’m owed favors by so many people, no one would dare ask me to leave.” “I would dare,” West said. “In fact, I can tell you exactly where to go.”
“I can tell by the books you read.” Turning to Kingston, Pandora explained, “They’re all about things like scientific butter making, or pig keeping, or smut. Now, who could possibly find smut interesting?” “Not that kind of smut,” West said hastily, as he saw the duke’s brows lift.
“There are all different kinds of smut,” Pandora said, warming to the subject. “Smut balls, loose smut, stinking smut—” “Pandora,” West interrupted in an undertone, “for the love of mercy, stop saying that word in public.” “Is it unladylike?” She heaved a sigh. “It must be. All the interesting words are.”
“Thank you, sir,” West said with a negative shake of his head, “but I’m—” “You’re delighted by my invitation,” Kingston informed him gently, “as well as grateful for the honor of my interest. Come along, Ravenel, don’t be a hairpin.”
“What do you mean by volunteering me for a farm tour, you lunkhead?” “I was helping you,” Gabriel said reasonably.
Therefore, Phoebe occasionally found it necessary to push back. After all, it was an older sister’s responsibility to keep her younger brother from behaving like a domineering ass.
Hit a little too close to home currently 😅
“They had no parents, no family, no home, no money or possessions . . . what would you expect of boys in their situation?”
“Kindness counts the most when it’s given to people who don’t deserve it.”
“I’m afraid not. My old self is gone.” A humorless smile tugged at her lips. “And the new one hasn’t turned up yet.”
“I told her a fellow has his pride, and as far as I was concerned, wearing short trousers is like going about with your pants at half-mast. Mother laughed so hard, she had to set down her teacup, and the next day the tailor came to measure me for a suit.
“Yes, that’s what fellows do. We call our friends names like ‘Spoony’ or ‘Knobby-knees.’ The better the friend, the worse the insult.”
“What’s your first favorite?” “That’s not a subject fit for dinner.” After a pause, he offered innocently, “But I could tell you later.” The rascal.
She lowered her gaze to the gleaming row of flatware in front of her, so embarrassed that she was briefly tempted to stab herself with a salad fork.
Work is a kind of language—we understand each other better afterward.”
“I’ve never thanked you properly for marrying Kathleen at the registrar’s office,” West commented. “I want you to know how much I enjoyed it.” “You weren’t there.” “That’s why I enjoyed it.”
“I would show you the appropriate finger,” West muttered, “if it weren’t stuck in this baby handle.” He tugged at his imprisoned middle digit, trying to free it without snapping the teacup’s porcelain loop.
Belonging nowhere was almost like belonging everywhere.
“If you’re finished—” West began, with an irritated gesture of his hand. At that moment, the teacup came unstuck, flung itself off his finger, and went soaring through an open window. Both brothers stared blankly after the path of its flight. A few seconds later, they heard a crash of porcelain on a graveled pathway.
In the silence, West shot a narrow-eyed glance at his brother, who was trying so hard not to laugh that his facial muscles were twitching. Finally, Devon managed to regain control of himself. “So glad your right hand is free again,” he said in a conversational tone. “Especially since it seems that for the foreseeable future, you’ll be making frequent use of it.”
When Pandora reached him and the veil was pushed back, St. Vincent broke with etiquette by leaning down to press a tender kiss on her forehead. “That part isn’t ’til later,” Pandora whispered to him, but it was loud enough that the people around them overheard, and a rustle of laughter swept through the crowd.
“May I speak plainly, or do I have to be polite?” “I prefer politeness.” “All right. Your estate is being managed by a damned idiot.” “That’s the polite version?” Phoebe asked, mildly startled.
Phoebe stared up at Mr. Ravenel with narrowed eyes. He was standing too close to her, his head and shoulders blocking the sunlight. “You should know that looming over me like that doesn’t intimidate me,” she said curtly. “I grew up with two very large brothers.” He relaxed his posture instantly, hooking his thumbs in his trouser pockets. “I’m not trying to intimidate you. I’m taller. I can’t help that.”
“You could try,” Mr. Ravenel said, “but she won’t come close enough. Barn cats prefer to keep their distance from people.” His brows lifted as the small black cat made her way to Sebastian and curled around his leg, arching and purring. “With the apparent exception of dukes. My God, she’s a snob.”
“Sometimes the mystery is more delightful than the answer.”
“Ravenel, what can I do?” he asked calmly. “With respect, sir”—Mr. Ravenel was double-dodging and darting, trying to anticipate the bull’s movements—“get the hell out of here.”
“You should humor my daughter’s wishes, Ravenel,” Sebastian advised from behind her. “The last time I tried to refuse her something, she launched into a screaming fit that lasted at least an hour.” The comment broke the trance. “Father,” Phoebe protested with a laugh, twisting to glance at him over her shoulder, “I was two years old!” “It made a lasting impression.”
You can’t be expected to follow the rules if I haven’t told them to you.
Mr. Ravenel shook his head immediately. “I deserve no credit, sir. It was all pure idiot reflex. I jumped in with no plan or forethought.” “Yes,” Sebastian said reflectively, “that’s what I liked about it.”
“Will he have to stay in bed? I’ll bring my cat to visit him.” Phoebe frowned regretfully. “Justin, I’m afraid you can’t keep her.” “Oh, I already knew that.” “Good. Well, then—” “—but you see, Mama, she wants to keep me.”
A smile came to West’s face. He would never cease to be grateful for his brother’s generosity.
“Every time she enters the room, we can all hear your heart beating.” West felt his color heighten. “Bugger off.”
“I think I’m in love with her. Either that, or I have a stomach disease with a side effect of uncontrollable sweating.
“You were a rake. I was a wreck.
“Forgiveness be damned. It doesn’t make any of it go away.” “I think you’re missing the point of forgiveness.”
“Before I leave, let me share a piece of hard-won wisdom about women.” “God, must you?”
“If it makes you feel better, I promise never to propose to you.”
“Once you’re settled, ask for the general account books. One of them will contain yearly statements of the estate’s profits and losses. You’ll want to look at the past four or five years to—why are you frowning? It’s too soon to be frowning.”
“No matter where you are, Phoebe, a manager’s job usually involves having to bloody manage something. Is Larson so rarefied that he can’t bring himself to have a conversation with a small farmer? Does he think poverty is bloody contagious?”
If I ever meet this Larson, we gon fight 🧍🏼♀️
“You can’t outrun your problems.” “Actually, I can,” West said, walking away with the basket. “Look—I’m doing it right now.”
He was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.
“It would be a great pity for you to realize too late what a treasure you might have had in Edward. As the captain of your family’s ship, he would steer a steady course. There would never be surprises with him. No arguments, no unconventional ideas. You would live in perfect serenity.” Yes, Phoebe thought, that’s exactly the problem.
Lest we forget, he’s also a misogynist ☺️
“What if it turns out to be a mistake?” “Then I suspect you’ll have had a delightful time making it.”
Looking very pleased with himself, the toddler squeezed applesauce through his fingers and licked at it. “Yummy apples,” he told her.
A mood
“Justin—” Phoebe broke off as Stephen smacked his free hand into the applesauce, sending splatters everywhere. “Goodness gracious!” “It’s in his hair now,” Justin said, looking at his younger brother in the manner of a scientist observing a failed experiment.
