Devil's Daughter (The Ravenels #5)(32)

The comment broke the trance. “Father,” Phoebe protested with a laugh, twisting to glance at him over her shoulder, “I was two years old!”

“It made a lasting impression.”

Phoebe’s gaze fell to Justin, who stood half hidden behind Sebastian. His small face was tearstained and woebegone. “Darling,” she said softly, wanting to comfort him, “come here.”

Her son shook his head and retreated farther behind his grandfather.

“Justin,” she heard Mr. Ravenel say in a gruff tone, “I want to talk to you.”

Phoebe shot him a wary, wondering glance. Was he planning to scold her son? A few harsh words from him would devastate Justin.

Sebastian nudged the child forward.

Justin trudged reluctantly to Mr. Ravenel’s side, his lower lip trembling, his eyes glassy.

As the man surveyed the crestfallen boy, his face gentled in a way that reassured Phoebe there was no need for her to intervene.

“Listen to me, Justin,” Mr. Ravenel said quietly. “This was my fault. Not yours. You can’t be expected to follow the rules if I haven’t told them to you. I should have made certain you understood not to go inside one of the enclosures or pens by yourself. Never, for any reason.”

“But the cat . . .” Justin faltered.

“She can take care of herself. She’s over there, with at least eight lives left—you see?” Mr. Ravenel gestured to a nearby timber post, where the cat was grooming the side of her face delicately. The outer corners of his eyes tipped upward as he saw the boy’s relief. “Regardless, if an animal is hurt or in danger, don’t go near it. Ask an adult for help next time. An animal is replaceable. A boy is not. Do you understand?”

Justin nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.” The grace of forgiveness, when he’d expected harsh judgment, left him glowing with relief.

“Ravenel,” she heard her father say, “I’m in your debt.”

Mr. Ravenel shook his head immediately. “I deserve no credit, sir. It was all pure idiot reflex. I jumped in with no plan or forethought.”

“Yes,” Sebastian said reflectively, “that’s what I liked about it.”

By the time Mr. Ravenel had made it to his feet, the horse and cart had been brought around. The combination of pain and fading excitement had left him too weary to quarrel. After a testy comment or two, he climbed slowly into the vehicle. To Justin’s delight, Mr. Ravenel invited him to ride in the cart as well. They settled on a stack of folded blankets, with Justin tucked against the man’s good side. As the cart began to roll toward the manor house, the black cat leaped into the vehicle’s open back.

Walking back with her father, Phoebe smiled ruefully at the sight of her son’s beaming face in the distance. “Justin worships him now.”

Her father arched a quizzical brow at her tone. “Is that a problem?”

“No, but . . . to a young boy, Mr. Ravenel must seem like a fantasy of a father. His own personal hero. Poor Edward Larson has little chance of competing.”

Although her father remained relaxed, she sensed his sharp interest. “I wasn’t aware Larson was in the running for such a role.”

“Edward and I are fond of each other,” Phoebe said. “And he’s fond of the boys, too. He’s known both of them since they were born. The last time he came to visit Heron’s Point, he made it clear that he would be willing to assume Henry’s place.”

“Willing to assume Henry’s place,” Sebastian repeated with slow emphasis, his face darkening. “Is that how he declared himself?”

“It wasn’t a marriage proposal, it was a prelude to deeper conversation. Edward isn’t one to rush things. He’s a gentleman of courtesy and delicacy.”

“Indeed. He doesn’t lack for delicacy.” Suddenly her father’s voice was caustic enough to dissolve granite.

“Why do you say it like that?” Phoebe asked in surprise. “What do you have against Edward?”

“I can’t help but question how my spirited daughter could fix her choice, once again, on a tepid Larson male. Is your blood really so thin that it calls for such milk-warm companionship?”

Phoebe stopped in her tracks, while outrage raced through her like wildfire. “Henry was not tepid!”

“No,” her father allowed, stopping to face her, “Henry did have one passion, and that was you. It’s why I eventually consented to the marriage, despite knowing the burden you would have to shoulder. Edward Larson, however, has yet to evince any such depth of feeling.”

“Well, he wouldn’t in front of you,” she said hotly. “He’s private. And it was never a burden to take care of Henry.”

“Darling child,” he said softly, “the burden is what you’re facing now.”





Chapter 12




By the time Phoebe and her father had entered the house, servants were running along the hallways with toweling and cans of cold and hot water, and the housekeeper was directing a footman to carry her medicine case up to Mr. Ravenel’s room.

“I’m going to speak to Lord and Lady Trenear,” Sebastian murmured, and headed for the stairs.

Nanny Bracegirdle stood in the entrance hall with Justin, who held the black cat against his chest. The half-wild feline should have shredded him by now, but she rested passively in his grasp, gazing around in bewildered curiosity at her strange new surroundings.