Devil's Daughter: The Ravenels meet The Wallflowers

In the silence, West shot a narrow-eyed glance at his brother, who was trying so hard not to laugh that his facial muscles were twitching. Finally, Devon managed to regain control of himself. “So glad your right hand is free again,” he said in a conversational tone. “Especially since it seems that for the foreseeable future, you’ll be making freque

“May I speak plainly, or do I have to be polite?” “I prefer politeness.” “All right. Your estate is being managed by a damned idiot.” “That’s the polite version?” Phoebe asked, mildly startled.

“I can tell by the books you read.” Turning to Kingston, Pandora explained, “They’re all about things like scientific butter making, or pig keeping, or smut. Now, who could possibly find smut interesting?” “Not that kind of smut,” West said hastily, as he saw the duke’s brows lift.

Seeming relieved, she curtsied gracefully and whisked her son away as if they were escaping something. Baffled, West stared after her. This wasn’t the first time a highly respectable woman had given him the cold shoulder. But it was the first time it had ever stung.

He was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.

“You should humor my daughter’s wishes, Ravenel,” Sebastian advised from behind her. “The last time I tried to refuse her something, she launched into a screaming fit that lasted at least an hour.” 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 la

“What does a chicken say?” he asked Stephen, holding up a wooden figure. The toddler took it from him and answered, “Rowwr!” West blinked in surprise and began to chuckle along with Justin. “By God, that is a fierce chicken.”

“If you’re finished—” West began, with an irritated gesture of his hand. At that moment, the teacup came unstuck, flung itself off his finger, and went soaring through an open window. Both brothers stared blankly after the path of its flight. A few seconds later, they heard a crash of porcelain on a graveled pathway.

Phoebe was mortified by her inability to speak. Her heartbeat was stampeding out of control. “Mama isn’t used to talking to grown-ups,” Justin said. “She likes children better.” “I’m very childlike,” the man said promptly. “Ask anyone around here.”