Page 65 of Miss Devon’s Choice

Christian’s eyes widened, realization striking him the moment her words were spoken. “Of course. The earl’s clue. There is a goddess—a lesser one. I’m afraid I don’t remember—” Christian spoke with a measure of excitement. “It isn’t Hera or Demeter. Who—”

“Hestia!” Harry shouted, catching Christian and Rebecca’s eagerness.

“Horace,” his father rebuked, glaring at his son.

“My apologies for shouting, Father. But it’s Hestia. She’s the goddess that fits that description.” Harry stood, and Christian and Rebecca with him. “I have a book on the gods and goddesses, and how they’re depicted in artwork and antiquities. It’s in my room. Let’s fetch it—”

Rebecca started to stand, but then Mr. Devon was on his feet as well.

“Why don’t you take Lord Easton to find the book, Horace? I would like to have a private word with Rebecca.”

Christian’s heart dropped as he saw Rebecca’s reaction to the request. Her cheeks lost color again, her hands gripped the skirts of her gown. “Yes, Father. Of course.”

While his mind had started scrambling to find a way to stay with Rebecca, to not leave her alone when she was so obviously uncomfortable, it halted with her words. He could not contradict a lady, after all.

“I will return in a moment,” he said, bowing to her.

Rebecca’s forced smile didn’t reassure him. Christian withdrew, reluctant, and followed Harry from the room. The moment the door shut behind them, Harry started shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Christian. I meant for all of us to go. It would’ve been wiser for me to retrieve it on my own.”

Christian’s alarm grew. “She is safe with your father, isn’t she?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the hall. If he thought Rebecca might come to physical harm—

“Safe enough. Let’s hurry, though.” Harry turned and went off at a speed that Christian would be forced to call a sprint. He hurried after the boy, catching up in a few long strides.

They were such a strange family. Each of the daughters were different in temperament, the brother’s personality matched none of them, and yet all seemed to hold the father in contempt.

It didn’t take long to reach Harry’s room, and he found the book on Greek gods easily. When they entered the hall, before Harry could begin sprinting back, Christian put his hand on the boy’s arm.

“Is Rebecca’s room nearby?” he asked.

Harry gave him an odd look. “Yes. There, just across the hall.” He pointed to a door that looked like all the others in the wing. “Why?”

Christian went to it and opened the door without hesitation. As he suspected, she had a small shelf on one wall. He went directly to it and looked through the books. Most of them were old, several were secondhand, and no two seemed to be from the same bookseller, as none had matching covers. But in one corner was a stack of five books tied together by an old red ribbon. They had dust atop them, but the pages were uncut. The books were new, leather bound, and never read.

Although he couldn’t have hoped for it to be that easy, Christian counted his blessings and took the books from the shelves. “Can you see to it those go in the gig? Under the seat.”

Harry’s expression remained puzzled, but he nodded. “Of course. Why don’t I see to that and you go rescue my sister?”

Christian didn’t move as swiftly on the return as he had with Harry. It seemed improper, actually, without the younger man rushing ahead of him. He arrived back at the study door, knowing they’d only been gone a few minutes. He put his hand to the handle but froze, hearing voices inside.

Rebecca’s words were soft, barely discernible, but when her father spoke, his voice carried through to the hall. “—ashamed of your behavior. What are you attempting? Are you hoping to drive him further away?”

He heard her soft murmurs, which sounded greatly as though she sought to reassure her father.

“I have worked tirelessly to arrange a proper match—and you know what will happen should it fail to go forward. I promise, Rebecca, your ruin will be complete and I will make certain to send you far, far from the sight of your sisters—”

Christian stepped backward, his heart racing and his thoughts reeling. What had he just heard? Rebecca, beautiful and vivacious, had been threatened into marrying him? At worst, he’d thought her to be a fortune hunter. A social climber. But this—!

No wonder she is so desperate to fall in love with me. This marriage is the last thing she could want.

Though he had not known her a fortnight, Christian knew well how important Rebecca’s sisters were to her. He knew how much she longed for freedom to make her own choices. Her father would destroy her if he took those things away.

His soul grew cold. What manner of father would ever treat a child with such harshness?

“A father loves his child, Christian. No matter what.”

Those words had been said by his own father, when Christian, young and uncertain, had come to him seeking comfort. “How could anyone love me when I’m so ugly?” he’d said, tears running down his face.