Page 55 of Hearts of Briarwall

“I didn’t say they were good things.” Violet grinned in reply.

Spencer, thankfully, seemed to fight his own smile. “Very well. Call me Spencer.” He flicked a glance at Lydia, which she ignored. “And what feat did you accomplish to earn Lydia’sdearfriendship? I seem to have failed miserably.”

Violet answered as if asked the question daily. “I found her as a lost little lamb roaming the woods bordering our estates, dried her tears, and returned her home, where we shared brambleberry pie and a glass of milk. I was seven, she was four, and she’s been following me about ever since.”

“How fortunate,” he said, glancing between them. “For both of you. Though I imagine she’s done a fair amount of leading since then.”

Violet scrutinized him, smiling. “Indeed. And what about you, Spencer? How is it you are esteemed as a ‘chum’ of Austere Andrew?”

His brow rose. “Austere Andrew?” He chuckled. “I’ve not heard that one. It suits.”

“What others have you heard?” Violet asked.

Lydia listened intently while trying not to look as if she cared at all.

“Oh, let’s see. Andrew the Great. His Royal Andrew. And finally—and likely the one he detested most—Apollo.” Again, he glanced at Lydia, knowing she knew the story behind that nickname.

Violet frowned. “As in—?”

“The Greek god, yes.”

Violet lifted her chin. “Handsome, athletic, knowledgeable—”

Lydia raised an eyebrow at the ease with which her friend drew similarities between Andrew and the god.

“And a tragedy in matters of the heart.”

All three of them turned sharply at Andrew’s bold response. A twinge of guilt pulled Lydia a half-step back at being caught discussing her brother, though she’d said nothing. Spencer and Violet, however, stood tall and unrepentant.

“Though I understand your loathing of the nickname,” Violet said to Andrew, “I can see how you came to have it.”

“Can you?” Andrew said. He maintained his easy stride to join them, but his expression was stoic. “Please, do not enlighten me further.”

Violet grinned and bowed in acquiescence. “Mr.Wooding.”

Lydia shook her head. Violet had addressed Andrew by his given name until he’d returned from his final year at Eton. Ever since then, she addressed him as formally as Andrew had become.

He bowed in return. “Miss Whittemore. You look lovely.”

“Thank you. And Lydia looks lovely as well, don’t you think?”

Lydia blushed as both men turned their gaze upon her. She made a mental note not to ask Violet for help again. Still, she pulled her shoulders back and lowered her eyes.

“Lydia, you look very fine,” Andrew said with a bow.

“Fine?” Violet countered. “Why, she is a woman of beauty, depth, and heart. Wouldn’t you agree, Spencer?”

Lydia grabbed for Violet’s hand and gave it a shake behind their skirts as the tips of Spencer’s ears turned pink. What happened to giving the man space? Violet kept her gaze on the gentlemen.

Spencer cleared his throat and, with a glance at Andrew, bowed his head to Lydia. “Indeed, no one could question that you are a force for womankind, Lydia.” He lifted his searching gaze to meet hers.

Was he referring to her anger on the hill? Or had Spencer considered her words about being treated as a simple female? Under his intent gaze, she felt the heat of their earlier connection reignite, but just as quickly, he pulled his attention away, and she was cold again.

Violet squeezed her hand, and Lydia took a deep breath to steady herself.

He addressed Andrew. “Thank you for allowing me to take the motorcar. I needed to clear my head, and the drive was exhilarating.”

Spencer had gone for a drive? Intheirmotorcar? An unfounded sense of being left out tugged the corners of her mouth downward.

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