What Happens in London (Bevelstoke #2)(28)

Harry swung himself down from his mount; it seemed he would be here for a while. “I have not had the pleasure.”

Lady Olivia’s face assumed a decidedly sour mien at his use of the word “pleasure.”

“He is her twin brother,” Miss Cadogan continued, “recently down from university.”

Harry turned to Lady Olivia and said, “I did not realize you were a twin.”

She shrugged.

“Has your brother completed his studies?” he asked.

She nodded curtly.

He almost shook his head at her attitude. She really was quite an unfriendly female. It was a shame she was so pretty. She did not deserve the good fortune of her looks. Harry rather thought she ought to have a large wart on her nose.

“He might be acquainted with my brother, then,” Harry commented. “They would be of an age.”

“Who is your brother?” Miss Cadogan asked.

Harry told them a bit about Edward, stopping a moment before Lady Olivia’s brother arrived. He was on foot, walking by himself, with the loose-limbed gait of a young man. He looked rather like his sister, Harry noticed. His blond hair was several shades darker, but the bright eyes were precisely the same, both in color and shape.

Harry bowed; so did Mr. Bevelstoke.

“Sir Harry Valentine, my brother, Mr. Winston Bevelstoke; Winston, Sir Harry.”

Said by Lady Olivia with a stunning lack of interest or inflection.

“Sir Harry,” Winston said politely. “I am acquainted with your brother.”

Harry didn’t recognize him, but he supposed young Bevelstoke was one of Edward’s many acquaintances. He’d met most of them here and there; most were entirely unmemorable.

“You are our new neighbor, I understand,” Winston said.

Harry acknowledged this with a murmur and nod.

“To the south.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ve always liked that house,” Winston said. Or rather, pontificated. It certainly sounded as if he were about to take the statement on a grand journey. “Brick, is it not?”

“Winston,” Olivia said impatiently, “you know very well it’s brick.”

“Well, yes,” he said, with an offhanded wave, “or at least I was moderately certain. I don’t often pay attention to those things, and, as you know, my bedroom faces the other direction.”

Harry felt a smile creeping along his lips. This could only get better.

Winston turned to Harry and said, for no apparent reason other than to torture his sister, “Olivia’s room faces the south.”

“Does it now?”

Olivia looked as if she might—

“It does,” Winston confirmed, putting a halt to Harry’s speculation on what Lady Olivia might or might not do. But he was thinking that spontaneous combustion was not outside the realm of possibility.

“You’ve probably seen her window,” Winston went on. “You really couldn’t miss it. It’s—”

“Winston.”

Harry actually stepped back an inch or two. It looked as if there might be violence. And despite Winston’s greater height and weight, he rather thought he’d put his money on his sister.

“I am sure Sir Harry is not interested in a floor plan of our home,” Olivia bit off.

Winston stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I wasn’t thinking of a floor plan so much as an elevation.”

Harry turned back to Olivia. He was not sure he had ever seen such well-controlled fury. It was impressive.

“It’s so nice to see you this morning, Winston,” Miss Cadogan put in, quite possibly oblivious to the familial tension. “Are you often out and about this early?”

“No,” he replied. “Mother sent me to fetch Olivia.”

Miss Cadogan smiled brightly and returned her attention to Harry. “Then it seems you are the only regular morning visitor here in the park. I, too, came looking for Olivia. We haven’t had a chance to chat for ages. She has been ill, you know.”

“I did not know,” Harry said. “I hope you are feeling better.”

“Winston was also ill,” Olivia said. She offered a frightening smile. “Much sicker than I.”

“Oh, no!” Miss Cadogan gushed. “I am so sorry to hear that.” She turned to Winston with great concern. “Had I known, I would have brought you a tincture.”

“I shall be sure to inform you next time he falls ill,” Olivia told her. She turned to Harry, lowered her voice, and said, “It happens more often that we would like. It’s very distressing.” And then, down to a whisper: “He was born that way.”

Miss Cadogan rose to her feet, all of her attention on Winston. “Are you feeling better now? I must say, you look a bit peaked.”

Harry thought he looked the picture of health.

“I’m fine,” Winston bit off, his ire clearly directed at his sister, who was still sitting on the bench, looking extremely satisfied with her recent accomplishments.

Miss Cadogan looked past him to Olivia, who was shaking her head, mouthing, “He’s not.”

“I will definitely bring you that tincture,” Miss Cadogan said. “It tastes a bit foul, but our housekeeper swears by it. And I insist that you return home at once. It’s chilly out.”