The Duke of Defiance (The Untouchables #5)(63)

Nora brought her hand to her mouth to hide a smile. “I don’t know, but it always does.”

“How splendid to hear that he’s searching for a wife,” one of the older women in the group said. “I’ve two daughters, one of whom is a widow. She could transform him—and his daughter—in no time.”

He didn’t need transformation! Irritation burned Jo’s throat as she sought to keep her mouth closed.

Lady Knighton nodded, her features serene but her gaze cool. “Yes, whomever he marries will need to become a mother immediately, if she isn’t already. My granddaughter is lovely, but she does need a feminine hand.”

She had a feminine hand—Jo’s.

Jo couldn’t stand another moment. She vaulted to her feet and left the group. Nora came on her heels, and they retreated to the windows away from eavesdropping ears. Still, Nora spoke softly.

“Are you going to speak to him about allowing Evie to ride astride in the park? He can’t do that.”

“Yes.” But she suspected he wouldn’t care. If he didn’t see a problem with removing his clothing in front of a woman he barely knew, which he’d done with Jo at just their second meeting, he likely didn’t give a fig what anyone thought about Evie riding however she wanted to.

What would he think of the gossip, however? Especially when it came to his daughter? Furthermore, what would he think of his mother adding fuel to the fire?

“I didn’t help matters,” Nora said, as if reading her thoughts. “I was just trying to put him in a more positive light.”

“I know, and I understand.” She just hoped Bran would. She considered not saying anything, but didn’t want him to hear rumors from someone else, though she’d no idea who that would be.

Nora moved to talk with another guest, leaving Jo to contemplate the other part of the conversation—when they’d discussed his marital prospects. Her stomach churned with nausea when she thought of him taking a wife and of that wife becoming Evie’s mother.

She wanted those things.

Yes, she wanted them. Too bad she couldn’t have them.





Chapter 15





Bran supervised the hanging of the framed flowers around the house. They’d been delivered yesterday, and he was thrilled to see them on the walls. Evie had decided where to put each one, including the four that were now forming a square pattern where his mother’s portrait had hung in the sitting room.

Thinking of her dampened his mood, but since she was due to arrive any moment, it was bound to happen.

The day before, Jo had attended a tea at Lady Satterfield’s. People had gossiped about Evie riding in the park, which had absolutely infuriated him, and then his mother had made comments about him being a difficult child.

Jo had vacillated on whether to tell him—she didn’t wish him to be upset. He’d been glad she had, but maybe it would’ve been better not to have known. Since then he’d been a bundle of tension. Hudson had performed numerous massages, and Bran had taken dinner in his chamber last night completely nude. In front of a fire because it was bloody cold in England, even in April.

He’d gone to Jo’s chamber later, and she’d warmed him quite thoroughly.

When he’d awakened this morning, he’d sent a note to his mother summoning her for an appointment this afternoon. He meant to tell her to keep her mouth shut where he was concerned. And if she didn’t, well, he had no compunction about cutting her out of his—and Evie’s—life.

A few minutes later, he heard the door and knew she’d arrived. Bucket showed her into the sitting room.

“Knighton,” she said, “I was so pleased to get your invitation.” Her gaze fell on the newly hung flowers. “Those are lovely.” She went to look more closely. “Are these from your island?”

“Barbados, yes.”

“Exquisite. Did you bring any plants with you?”

He hadn’t but had been thinking today, looking at all the flowers, that he should have. “No.”

“Pity. There’s a marvelous conservatory at Knight’s Hall, if you remember. And nothing in it really.”

Hell, he’d completely forgotten. He’d done his best to block many of his memories.

“Perhaps you could have some sent over.”

He stared at her, somewhat shocked that she’d made a suggestion he actually liked.

She turned from the wall and strode toward him. “I’ve brought something for you.” She pulled an envelope from her reticule. “It’s a letter from your father. I’d like you to read it.”

Now? He took it from her hand. “I’ll read it later.”

She sat down in a chair and stared at him expectantly. “I’d like you to read it now.”

“If it’s so bloody important, why did you wait to give it to me? In fact, why am I just receiving it when he died over a year ago?”

“Because your father asked me to hold it for you and give it you after you arrived. It was too important to chance being lost.” She looked away from him. “I didn’t want to bring it the first time I saw you. I wasn’t sure what to expect.”

“You mean you had to decide whether you should give it to me.”

Color stained her cheeks, and she flashed him that icy stare. “Just read it.”