The Serpent Prince (Princes #3)(22)

She frowned, her straight eyebrows drawing together terribly. “You’ve strained your back.”

“You aren’t supposed to notice a gentleman’s infirmity. Our manly pride may become irreparably damaged.”

“Silly.” She got up and brought a pillow to him. “Lean forward.”

He complied. “Also, you shouldn’t call us silly.”

“Even if you are?”

“Especially if we are.” She positioned the pillow behind his back. “Absolutely devastating to the manly pride.” God, that felt better.

“Humph.” Her hand trailed lightly across his shoulder; then she went to the door and called for the housekeeper.

He watched her move to the fireplace and stir the embers into flame. “What are you doing?”

“I thought we’d have supper in here, if that agrees with you.”

“Whatever agrees with you, agrees with me, fairest lady.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The housekeeper appeared, and they conferred before Mrs. Brodie bustled out again.

“Papa is dining with Dr. Fremont tonight,” his angel said. “They like to argue politics together.”

“Indeed? Is that the same doctor who saw to my wound?” The good doctor must be a formidable debater to take on the captain. He had Simon’s best wishes.

“Mmm.”

Mrs. Brodie and the one maid returned with laden trays. They took some time setting up the meal on the side table and then left.

“Papa used to have wonderful discussions with David.” Miss Craddock-Hayes sliced a game pie. “I think he misses him.” She handed the plate to him.

Simon had an awful thought. “Are you bereaved?”

She stared at him blankly for a second, her hand hovering over the pie; then she laughed. “Oh, no. David is away at sea. He’s a sailor like Papa. A lieutenant on the New Hope.”

“Forgive me,” Simon said. “I suddenly realized that I didn’t know anything of your brother, despite using his room.”

She looked down as she selected an apple for herself. “David’s two and twenty, two years younger than I. He’s been away at sea eleven months now. He writes often, although we get his letters in clumps. He can only post them when they make port.” She settled the plate on her lap and glanced up. “Father reads them all at once when we get a packet, but I like to save the letters and read one or two a week. It makes them last longer.” She smiled almost guiltily.

Simon had an urgent wish to find this David and make him write a hundred letters more to his sister. Letters Simon could give her so he could sit at her feet and watch that smile on her lips. More fool, he.

“Have you a brother or sister?” she asked innocently.

He looked down at his pie. This was what came of being beguiled by dark, level brows and a serious mouth. One let one’s guard down. “I am deficient in sisters, alas.” He cut into the friable crust. “I always thought it would be nice to have a little sister to tease, although they have a tendency to grow up and tease back, I hear.”

“And brothers?”

“One brother.” He picked up his fork and was surprised to find his fingers trembling, damn them. He willed the shaking to stop. “Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was nearly a whisper.

“Just as well.” Simon reached for his wineglass. “He was the elder, so I would never have attained the title had he not seen fit to shuffle off this mortal coil.” He took an overlarge sip of the red wine. It burned all the way down his throat. He set the glass down and rubbed at his right index finger.

She was silent, watching him from too-intense topaz eyes.

“Besides,” he continued, “he was rather an ass, Ethan was. Always worried about the right thing and whether I was living up to the family name, which of course I never was. He’d call me down once or twice a year to the family estate and look at me with lugubrious eyes as he enumerated my many sins and the size of my tailor’s bill.” He stopped because he was babbling.

He glanced at her to see if he’d finally shocked her into sending him away. She merely gazed back, compassion in her face. Dreadful, dreadful angel.

He transferred his gaze to the pie, although his appetite had fled. “I don’t believe I finished my fairy tale the other day. About poor Angelica and the Serpent Prince.”

Thankfully, she nodded. “You’d got as far as the magical cave and the silver snake.”

“Right.” He breathed deeply, trying to rid himself of the tightness in his chest. He took another swallow of the wine and marshaled his thoughts. “The silver snake was much larger than any Angelica had seen before; its head alone was as big as her forearm. As she watched, the serpent uncoiled itself and swallowed her poor little goat whole. Then it slowly slithered away into the darkness.”

Miss Craddock-Hayes shuddered. “It sounds awful.”

“It was.” He paused to take a bite of pie. “Angelica crept from the crack in the rock as quietly as she could and returned to her small stick shack to think things over, for she was quite frightened. What if the giant serpent continued to eat her goats? What if it decided to try a more tender meat and eat her?”

“How thoroughly disgusting,” she murmured.