The Devil in Her Bed (Devil You Know #3) - Kerrigan Byrne Page 0,1
sun. He said something Pippa could not hear and tucked a shining wisp of scarlet hair behind the lovely Francesca’s ear before placing a kiss on her knuckles with a deference that went beyond her station as the young mistress of the house. A reverence that was no longer innocent …
But interested.
The fountain still spewed water out of the horns of satyrs and the mouths and baskets of various gods and goddesses. The spray refracted the sun into delicate rainbows and glittering gems in the air around them.
Pippa’s heart squeezed so hard she didn’t think it beat for a full minute. Her hands were cold and wet. Her throat dry and her stomach full of lead. At thirteen, Declan was the epitome of beauty to Pippa. Now she looked at Francesca to see in her friend what Declan might. A slight and perfect nose and heart-shaped features. Slim, even for a girl on the cusp of womanhood, and more elegant than a child ought to be. Vibrant red hair and shy eyes the color of the sea on an overcast day. Perhaps blue or green, but mostly grey.
Pippa had dull fairish locks and retained a face round with youth and a penchant for seconds at dinner. Her beauty, her mother said, was in her rare green eyes. Eyes that now stung and a throat that ached with such fervent pain she couldn’t swallow, let alone breathe.
Did Declan—her Declan—fancy Francesca Cavendish, her best friend in the world?
Could the fates be so entirely cruel? Was there anything worse than this searing pain?
No, she realized. No, there was no agony more excruciating than this.
How could he not know she was his perfect match?
Francesca wouldn’t dip her dainty shoes into the fountain, but Pippa had often waded in beside him, plunging her elbows deep in the muck if only to make his work go faster so they could play. When the water seemed to churn with his melancholy, they’d toss soggy clumps of moss at each other, giggling and squealing with a side-splitting mirth until her jaw ached from constant smiles and so much brilliant love.
Francesca wouldn’t deign to dirty her frocks. She couldn’t; she was going to be a lady someday.
Pippa had no need to be a lady. She would be a woman. Declan’s woman. She’d decided that long ago. Regardless of what her parents said, no one could love someone this deeply unrequited.
The gods of the fountain wouldn’t allow it.
And yet, there they were … Declan and Francesca, with eyes for no one but each other.
“There are men on horseback coming up the way,” Ferdinand, Francesca’s twin, called down from his perch in the ancient ash tree on the other side of the maze.
Mama had told her once, Ferdinand had been born without enough breath, and he struggled with something called asthma. It was why the veins beneath his skin were so iridescent, and his lips often tinged with blue.
Despite that, he was a striking boy, and since she’d never had a brother, Ferdinand was one of her very favorite people with whom to have an adventure. He’d told her once he’d make her a countess when he was old enough.
She hoped that didn’t mean marriage.
She would marry Declan Chandler, of course, she knew this with her entire heart. She’d be Mrs. Chandler. Indeed, she’d already perfected her signature.
“Are we expecting callers?” Francesca asked.
“There are entirely too many men for callers.” Ferdinand curled his fingers to resemble a spyglass, and put it to his eye. “Maybe twenty.”
“It’s unseemly to show up with twenty people and not send a note.” Francesca’s mouth drooped into a pretty pout. “Mrs. Hargrave won’t know to make that many sandwiches at this hour.”
Pippa looked from Francesca to Declan, noting the troubled thoughts wrinkling his smooth, angular good looks. “Perhaps you and Pip should go inform Mr. and Mrs. Hargrave,” he said, helping Francesca from the ledge. “They’ll know what to do.”
“I’ll go and meet the riders,” Ferdinand declared, having climbed down from his spot and set off out the opposite side of the maze.
“My lord, you really shouldn’t.” Declan released Francesca and winked at Pippa before trotting after the future Earl of Mont Claire. “Not until we know who they are.”
Despite her pain, Pippa locked hands with her friend and skipped toward the estate. Francesca really was such a dear. So sweet and agreeable. Proper and ladylike. All the things Pippa was not.
All the things she’d try to be for Declan if that’s what he wanted.