What the Hart Wants - Fiona Davenport Page 0,22

to the Molineux family.”

“That reference was in your original, if I recall, Miss Hart,” he said. “You’ve always been eager to use the Molineuxs as an example of the corruption which must be stamped out. And you have told me several times that the aristocracy is an outdated concept which must be replaced.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t condone a revolution,” she said. “Just look at what happened in France!”

He gave her an indulgent smile. “Miss Hart, your imagination is running wild. You should give my readers a little more credit. They’re intelligent enough to understand the true message of your articles. All I’ve done is make your work a little more exciting to maintain their interest.”

Lilah read the article again, then set it aside and nodded. “Very well.”

As Anne had often reminded her, she needed to consider her overall objective and not the detail. Not only did her essays help to raise awareness, but the income she received from Mr. Stock helped to fund Mrs. Forbes’s shelter for disadvantaged women. A little integrity could be compromised if it suited a higher purpose.

She glanced at the clock in Mr. Stock’s office. It was nearly four o’clock, and Sir Thomas had promised to call and take tea. An hour delay at Devon’s lodgings should enable Lilah to escape an afternoon of insincere congeniality while she weathered Dorothea’s criticisms and Dexter’s admonishments about her behavior.

Devon may be many things, but there was little chance of the youngest Hart brother ever being described as insincere.

Or congenial.

*

“I suppose you’re expecting tea.”

Lilah rolled her eyes at her younger brother as he gestured toward a threadbare chair. He turned to the footman who’d ushered her into the drawing room.

“Fetch a pot of the stuff, would you?”

“Very good, sir.”

“And another bottle of my usual.”

The footman bowed and left.

Lilah sat beside her brother. “Devon, should you be indulging at this hour?”

“It’s half-past four,” he said. “By now, the dandies at Whites will have drunk themselves into varying degrees of mental incompetence while boasting about their conquests.”

“But you’re not a dandy,” Lilah said, “neither are you mentally incompetent.”

“I think half of London would disagree with you,” he said.

Delilah took his hand. “That’s because they don’t know you as I do, Dev. Perhaps if you ventured out more…”

“I do go out,” he interjected.

“I meant during the day, Dev, attending functions, not prowling round the streets at night. What about the Stiles’s ball? We’ve all been invited. You should come with us.”

“Looking as I do?” He grimaced, puckering his scarred cheek. “I desire no man’s pity, nor his ridicule. I’m done with being stared and laughed at.”

“Your face is more likely to elicit honesty than one that’s pleasing to look at,” Lilah said. “At least you won’t be subjected to the insincerity of a flatterer. Besides, it’s a masked ball, so nobody has to look at you.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, Delilah, you’re failing,” he growled. “Do you know what it’s like to have someone stare at you in morbid fascination, then avert his eyes as if in fear that my disfigurement is contagious?”

“No, I don’t, I’m sorry, Dev,” Lilah said. “But you can’t hide away forever. Your spirits have been so low since your—accident. A wider acquaintance will restore them.”

Devon sighed. “You sound like bloody Fossett. He’s always trying to drag me outside.”

“Your friend cares for you, Dev,” Lilah said. “If he didn’t, he’d have given up on you months ago.”

“Whereas you persist in seeing me out of family obligation.”

Why did Devon have to be so infuriating? He’d always been the fun-loving brother to offset Dexter’s brooding seriousness—the brave soldier who’d been breaking hearts since reaching adulthood and who, most likely, had enjoyed a different woman at every camp.

Until the night that had destroyed his life.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Don’t tell me it’s to inquire after my health or to persuade me to go to that damned ball. You’re avoiding Dexter again, aren’t you? Or avoiding the latest suitor he’s lined up for you.”

Lilah’s cheeks warmed, and she looked away.

“I knew it!” He let out a bark of laughter. “Dex will have a hard task on his hands, finding a man to control you, Lilah. But he never loses, you know that. You’ll have a fight if you defy him. In which case, your time is best served managing your own life, rather than interfering in mine.”

“I interfere because I love you, Dev,” she said. “Don’t you want to be happy?”

“You don’t understand, Delilah.”

“Then explain it to