Page 83 of Not his Marchioness
The sisters giggled.
Charlotte grinned, understanding the pet names they used for one another. Rhys, however, stood a little stiffly, as though he had been purchased and forgotten.
“A similar jest,” Nathaniel explained. “When we first met, we found each other quite vexing. Thus, I would call her ‘Lady Evelyn’ in jest, and she would call me ‘Mr. Sinclair,’ for that was my name before I so unexpectedly inherited the dukedom.”
“I see,” Rhys said. “So we both found ourselves in positions we had not foreseen.”
“Yes.” Nathaniel nodded. “I heard of your tragic family history. I can relate, to some extent, though the former Duke and I were not close.”
“I am uncertain whether the former Marquess and I were close, either. One might imagine so, given we were brothers, but perhaps not. Though I suppose he never truly bore the title, merely the claim to it.”
The joyful mood dimmed somewhat, but Evelyn, ever quick-witted, salvaged the moment.
“Did you know they are serving Negus?”
Charlotte squealed, for she loved nothing more than a steaming glass of Negus on a cold night.
“Yes,” Evelyn continued. “They are just now setting it out. I daresay, if we slip in quickly, we may secure the first glasses.”
“The first glasses are always the best!” Charlotte exclaimed, seizing her sister’s hand.
They were already on their way when she glanced back.
“Will you come?” she asked.
Rhys nodded, though he looked a little taken aback.
“I did not know you were fond of Negus,” he said.
“I adore it. It is one of the finest pleasures of winter—along with the snow, hot chocolate, and music.”
“And the food,” he added. “And skating.”
“And masquerade balls.” She beamed. “Though perhaps not dressed as Apollo and Athena again. My feet still ache from the weight of the drapery.”
“My neck suffered equally from that ridiculous golden crown. I declare, when we host a masquerade ball at our country estate, the theme shall be winter wonderland. No one will be forced intouncomfortable costumes. Everyone may come as snowflakes or snow spirits.”
“Or ice princesses,” she quipped, surprised at how naturally their conversation turned to shared plans for the future.
The kisshadmeant something to him.
They entered the refreshments room, and before long, all four were carrying steaming glasses of Negus.
“Shall we retire to the terrace?” Nathaniel suggested. “That way, we will not be overrun by the crowd.”
They settled on the stone benches at the Woodhavens’ terrace. Charlotte sat between Evelyn and Rhys, and Nathaniel sat on Evelyn’s other side.
Fresh snow had fallen while they had been indoors, covering the city once more. The streets had been unsightly earlier, churned into filthy slush, but now they were hidden, transformed into a wonderland again.
“We should go to Scotland to visit my mother,” Nathaniel said to Evelyn. “The snow there is most crisp.”
“The same is true at our country estate,” Rhys spoke up. “There is nothing better than walking or riding through a snow-covered forest.”
“Yes,” Nathaniel agreed. “I used to love dashing through the drifts, striking the branches with my hand to shake down the snow.”
“I used to do the same,” Rhys admitted. “It was one of the few activities my father, brother, and I enjoyed together. We would return home utterly soaked, as though we had fallen into a lake, for all the snow had melted on us. My mother always declared it a dreadful nuisance.”
“As did mine.” Nathaniel laughed. “Though she was well accustomed to my mischief. I suppose it was always in my blood.”
