The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(55)

Evie scrunched her face up and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He realized he’d said the wrong thing. Again. “Er, nothing. I don’t know much about making my way in London society. I get all these invitations, and I’ve no idea what to do with them.”

“You should accept some probably,” Evie said. “Right, Jo?”

Bran was curious to hear her opinion.

“Probably. Meeting new people might be nice.”

Evie cocked her head to the side and swung her arms, forcing Bran to swing his too, not that he minded. “Hmmm, I’m not sure,” she said. “Papa doesn’t really like to meet people. He likes to be at home. With me.” She grinned up at him.

“That’s true. But Mrs. Shaw has a point. I’m an earl now, and I should form some connections at least.”

“Becky told me that balls are spectacular with beautiful music, a million candles, and everyone is in their finest. She says her mama wears the prettiest ball gowns.” Evie turned her head to Jo. “Do you go to balls?”

“I have. Once, anyway.” She flicked a glance toward Bran, and he knew she was thinking the same as him—that the best part of that ball hadn’t been music or candles and certainly not clothing. “Governesses don’t really go to balls,” Jo said.

Evie frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair. Why can’t you have fun?”

“Let me see if I can explain,” Jo said. “It’s a bit complicated. There is a hierarchy to London Society, and certain groups aren’t invited to Society events such as balls.”

“What’s hierarchy?”

“A sort of ranking. Such as with peers. A duke is the highest rank, then marquess, then earl, then viscount, and so on. We’ll study Debrett’s later. Much later.”

“Becky told me her father is more important than mine. I told her that wasn’t true, but I guess it is?” Evie looked at Jo and then Bran.

“I don’t think importance has anything to do with it,” Jo said.

Bran snorted. “It’s all chance. In most cases, some forefather was given a title that’s passed down from father to son. It’s entirely possible that someone who’s a duke or an earl doesn’t really deserve to be.” Or want to be, as was Bran’s case.

“So most peers haven’t really earned their position,” Evie deduced, showing a keen intelligence that made Bran’s pride swell.

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Bran said. He hadn’t earned his, and he was certain everyone would agree with that fact.

“Well, that’s rather silly, isn’t it? Ranking people based on their family and allowing that to decide who can go to a ball.” Evie stuck her tongue out and trilled her lips to make a rather rude sound he’d taught her a few years ago. He glanced at Jo to see her reaction. She stifled a smile, and Bran did the same.

They’d arrived at the park and paused at the entrance. “Where shall we go?” Jo asked, looking down at Evie.

Evie turned her head this way and that as if she were getting her bearings. At last she pointed to the Queen’s Basin. “Over by the water, I think.”

As they made their way toward the reservoir, they passed another family, the mother and father holding the hand of a small boy who walked between them. Well, he didn’t walk so much as float since he was little enough that they picked him up from the ground every few steps. He giggled every time he took flight, and again Bran recalled similar times with Evie and Louisa. He hadn’t really missed his wife in the last couple of years, and especially not since they’d traveled to London. A wave of nostalgia hit, surprising him with its force. He missed his former life, his home, and everything that encompassed.

When they reached the water, Bran set the basket down. Jo came to open it at the same time he did, and their hands brushed.

She jerked away, her eyes flickering with a myriad emotions—so fast that he couldn’t discern them all. Or any of them really. “I was just going to spread the blanket.”

He took a step back. “Please.”

She glanced at him before turning her attention to the basket and went about setting up the picnic.

Evie had strolled to the fence surrounding the reservoir, and Bran joined her. “Papa, can we go to the ocean? I miss the ocean.”

“Yes. I don’t think it’s terribly far. I would like that too.”

“But it won’t be like home. Barbados, I mean.” Evie’s voice held a note of resignation. She was coming to terms with the fact that they didn’t live there anymore. This both relieved Bran and made him sad at the same time.

“No, it won’t be the same.” Nothing was the same. He looked over to where Jo laid out their picnic. It also wasn’t all bad either. “You like it here at least a little bit, don’t you?”

Evie turned to him and glanced up at the sky. “I’m glad it’s sunny today. I miss seeing its happy face.” She took his hand again. “Don’t worry about me, Papa. I’m fine. I want to make sure you’re happy. Come on, let’s go eat. Cook said she packed little salmon sandwiches!”

Fish was one of the few things Evie adored, and their new cook had made sure to make it available to her at every meal.

They returned to the blanket, where Jo had everything neatly and appetizingly organized. There was something very natural and comfortable about the entire thing—walking to the park hand in hand, having Jo set up the meal, and now the three of them sitting down together to eat. He could picture them as a family quite easily. The impediment, whether she could give him a son, loomed at the back of his mind. Then came Evie’s proclamation that titles were silly. Or at least the inheritance of them. It was all so arbitrary, he realized. They had so little control over things, and that frustrated him.