The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(2)

“Did I tell you he has a nickname?”

Jo plucked a biscuit from the tray. “He’s an Untouchable, then?” This was the word they’d chosen in their youth to describe the men they dreamed of marrying, men that were too far above their station. They’d giggled about it endlessly. It was, of course, the epitome of irony that Nora was now a duchess.

“Probably,” Nora said. “Time will tell if he’s truly ‘untouchable,’ but he has a nickname nonetheless. He’s the Duke of Defiance.” These nonsensical names had originated with Nora’s trio of friends who had also married Untouchables, all of whom they’d labeled the duke of something in accordance with their reputations.

“However did he earn that name?” Jo asked.

Nora glanced toward the corner. “It occurs to me that we should perhaps speak quietly. Or not at all.”

Good heavens. Jo had completely forgotten that the Duke of Defiance’s daughter was just across the room. Granted, she looked completely engrossed in the book with Becky. Jo smiled at them. “Reminds me of us when we were young.”

They’d spent countless hours combing through their father’s library. And climbing trees. And digging in the ground. And storming the kitchen—both to eat and to learn to cook. The housekeeper had been more than happy to teach them.

Jo thought of the kind woman with her curly white hair and bright blue eyes. She’d given the best hugs after their mother had died. “I wonder where Mrs. Birch is now.” She’d retired from their father’s employ shortly before Jo had married.

“I have to think she’s passed on,” Nora said quietly.

“I’d prefer to imagine her baking pastries in a cottage in the Cotswolds.”

Nora smiled. “Yes, let’s do that.”

“Excuse me.” A small feminine voice drew both of them to turn. Evie stood a few feet away from their chairs, her gaze on the table. “May I have another biscuit?”

“Yes, you may,” Nora said. She stood with Christopher, holding him on her hip. “I need to take Christopher up to wash his hands. And then it’s nap time. I’ll be back shortly.” Nora left.

Evie tiptoed to the table but hesitated, her fingers hovering over the sweets.

“Can’t decide?” Jo asked.

Evie shot her a quick glance. “I want the one I had before, but I can’t tell them apart.”

Jo scooted to the edge of her chair. “Hmm. They have subtle differences, I think. This,” she pointed to one variety, “has lemon flavoring. I see little bits of lemon rind.”

Evie made a face. “Not that one. I like them plain.”

“Ah, then this one.” Jo indicated a square stamped with a flower.

The girl’s blue-green gaze shifted to Jo for a brief moment before she gingerly picked up the biscuit. She held it to her lips and licked the edge. After a moment, she took a small nibble. A look of relief settled over her features, and she claimed a second, larger, bite.

“Is that one right, then?” Jo asked.

Evie nodded. “Thank you.” She held her free hand to her mouth. After she swallowed, she said, “My apologies. I shouldn’t talk with food in my mouth. Or so Nanny used to tell me.”

“Who’s Nanny?”

“My nurse in Barbados. I miss her.”

“She didn’t come with you to England?”

Evie shook her head, jostling her blonde waves. “Papa said it would be too much of a change for her. We’re going to hire a new one. Once Papa finds his legs. So Papa says.”

Jo imagined it was a big change for all of them. “Do you like it here?”

Evie shrugged. “It’s cold. I miss the beach and the ocean.”

A picture of this fair-haired girl dancing in the waves brought a smile to Jo’s lips. “I would miss that too. Is the ocean warm there?”

The girl’s eyes glowed. “Oh yes. And the sand can get quite hot.”

Jo wiggled her stocking-clad toes in her shoes. “That sounds lovely. What else can you tell me about Barbados?”

“We have palm trees and monkeys. And turtles. They make nests in the sand.”

“Indeed?”

Evie finished her biscuit and sidled closer to Jo. “When they hatch, all the little baby turtles run across the sand to the water. They look like crabs, but they’re much cuter. I wanted to have one as a pet, but Papa said no, that it wouldn’t be fair to keep them in a cage.”

“I think your papa sounds like a wise man.”

Evie grinned up at her, revealing a missing front tooth on the bottom. “Oh, he is.”

“And what about your mama?”

The girl’s smile faded. “She died.”

Jo’s heart squeezed. “My goodness, I’m so sorry for your loss. I didn’t know.”

Evie shrugged again. “I barely remember her.”

“Lord Knighton,” announced Nora’s butler, Abbott.

“Papa!” Evie scrambled toward the door and threw her arms around her father’s waist.

Jo rose from the chair, smoothing her hand over her skirt and dislodging a crumb in the process.

The earl hugged his daughter briefly. “Did you have a good time?” he asked quietly.

Blonde curls rioted against Evie’s shoulders as she tipped her head back to look up at her father. “Yes. Can I come again?”