One Whisper Away Read Online Free PDF Page B

propped a shoulder against the mantel and smiled with a lazy quirk of his lips, the snifter of brandy cupped in his long fingers. “I think I’m learning. If my sisters in Essex have heard something about me, I must have committed some atrocious blunder. I don’t suppose this has to do with the lovely Lady Cecily?”
    Well, at least he wasn’t completely unaware.
    “Yes, it does. Perhaps you should keep your handkerchief to yourself,” she suggested wryly, relenting a little, because truthfully, his response was surprisingly gracious.
    “My intentions were chivalrous, I assure you.”
    “The problem seems to be with the execution.” Lily was acutely aware of both Betsy and Carole listening to the exchange with rapt attention. They were young, the former nineteen and the latter eighteen . . . so elaboration in their presence was not appropriate. “That aside, and since we are here, do you have any idea of how you wish to proceed with the season, my lord?”
    “You are my sister, Lillian. I am sure there is no need for you to address me in such a formal manner.”
    He was rather infuriatingly right, but on the other side of the coin, she had no idea of his intentions when it came to her sisters. Would he provide a proper coming out for them or would he be parsimonious about it? She didn’t know him well enough to judge. Stiffly, she said, “We do not have a close acquaintance. Formality seems appropriate.”
    And safe. She liked safety. Forming attachments had always presented a problem. Look at the aching loss she’d suffered after what had happened to her parents. Look at what had happened with Arthur. There was no choice with her sisters—she loved them already. No one could dictate that she had to love him just because they had the same father.
    “So fierce. It reminds me of the strong women of my people.”
    She flushed at the undercurrent of soft mockery in his tone. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t exactly welcoming her older brother with open arms either. He sensed it, and she didn’t blame him particularly if he resented her lack of enthusiasm over his presence.
    “Your people?” she asked with clipped inquiry. “May I remind you that you are an Englishman as well as a member of the aristocracy? Our family has ties back to William of Normandy.”
    “I suppose I should have phrased it differently. The part of my heritage that I understand better. And for your information, my mother’s family was in America thousands of years before William of Normandy was even born. She was the daughter of a chieftain, and I am more aristocratic through her than through our father.”
    That small speech, carefully modulated, stopped her, especially since he didn’t seem antagonistic as much as he was simply stating a fact. Lillian sat with her hands folded in her lap and wondered if he’d often had to defend his unusual lineage. There was something about him that said he didn’t usually bother.
    The room was suddenly much too civilized, especially with him standing there, courteous and yet, despite how he was dressed, still less than English, with his different coloring and dark, uncompromising stare. He wasn’t from her world, but now he controlled it.
    Unfair .
    “I’m not trying to be judgmental.” She summoned a reasonable tone. “I’m merely pointing out the repercussions of committing what could be viewed as a serious lapse in etiquette by the ton. ”
    He didn’t care. He didn’t even have to say it. It was evident in the nonchalant pose of his lean body, and the irreverent laughter in his eyes. “And what might that be?”
    Ooh, he was exasperating. It was also clear that he was a free spirit, and his disregard for social criticism—if she was willing to admit it—was something they shared with their father. Papa had married extremely unconventionally, and God alone knew she’d thumbed her nose at the gossip and taken her own road. It was hypocritical for her to fault her brother for having