with Maggie, then looked hopefully at Godfrey. “We wondered if you would tell us about your life in London. About what sort of entertainments you enjoy when there.”
Somewhat to Godfrey’s surprise, Maggie didn’t look as enthused as her brother. She clarified, “He wants to know how you fill your days.”
Harry frowned at her. “Yes, I do. I would find that interesting.”
Godfrey had to smile at Harry’s tone, which elicited a sniff from Maggie. “Well,” he said, “there are the galleries, of course, and the coffeehouses—I often meet with friends there.” He continued, describing the places he haunted and the more regular events he attended. Harry hung on his every word, while Maggie listened with what seemed to be her customary focus.
Some minutes later, the door opened, and Ellie came in. Given her lack of surprise on finding her siblings ensconced with him, he deduced she’d sent them to keep him amused. He was giving the pair a rundown of the favored theaters in the capital; Harry and Maggie glanced Ellie’s way, but immediately returned their avid gazes to him.
When she paused, watching and transparently debating whether he needed to be rescued, he flashed her a reassuring smile.
Her lips curved. She glanced fondly at her brother and sister, then, leaving Maggie in possession of her favorite wing chair, went to claim its mate, angled by the hearth.
He was acutely—distractingly—aware that, although Ellie settled to her stitching, she was also listening as he rambled on. The inconsequentiality of his social life in the capital was suddenly not something he wished to own to. He rapidly brought his dissertation on that subject to a close.
Harry seemed satisfied, but Maggie stirred and said, “While that all sounds very busy, I’m not sure I would find it”—she gestured vaguely—“sufficiently fulfilling.” She met his gaze. “And before you say that for me, there would be parties and balls and idle walks in the park to show off my London gowns and gaze at everyone else’s, I’m not really drawn to such entertainments—I find them rather superficial.”
She wasn’t wrong in that. Godfrey inclined his head in acknowledgment and wondered where she was leading him.
Sure enough, she fixed him with a direct look. “What about your family? How many brothers and sisters do you have? Do you spend much time with them?”
That was a safe, even laudable topic, and one to which the Hinckley siblings would relate. He stated simply that both his parents were dead, then launched into a recitation of his half brother’s, brothers’, and sister’s names, carefully omitting their titles, and explaining their ages with respect to him.
“Are they married, then?” Maggie asked.
He nodded and expanded his account to include their various spouses and his nephews and nieces. With a nod to Harry’s interests, Godfrey added the occupations his siblings—and their spouses—had made their own.
Holding true to her direction, Maggie brought the discussion back to the people—the family. “Where did you spend Christmas? Do you all get together?”
He nodded. “We gather at Raventhorne”—he bit off the word “Abbey”—“my half brother’s house.”
Maggie’s eyes widened. “It must be a big house.” She tipped her head. “Or don’t you all stay there?”
Beyond Maggie and her big eyes, Ellie slowly raised her head and stared at him.
Warily, he admitted, “It is. And yes, we all stay for several days.”
Ellie set aside her stitching, rose, and walked nearer. “Raventhorne?” She halted with her hand on the back of Maggie’s chair, her gaze fixed on him. “Is there a village or town by that name?”
Godfrey met her eyes. To lie or… No, he couldn’t. Not to her. “No—it’s an abbey. A house built within an old abbey.”
Ellie’s eyes widened to rival Maggie’s. She drew in a long breath. “Your half brother is the Marquess of Raventhorne?”
There was a hint of panic in her tone, but “Yes” was all he could say.
“And Raventhorne Abbey is your childhood home?”
He nodded. Both Harry and Maggie were looking back and forth from Ellie—who now looked faintly horrified—to him.
“But…that means you’re a lord.” She made it sound like an accusation.
He wrinkled his nose. “Yes, but being Godfrey Cavanaugh and Lord Godfrey Cavanaugh… Well, there’s really no difference, you know.”
“But it does make a difference.” Ellie couldn’t immediately explain why, but she knew that was true. The nobility were a breed apart. To illustrate her point, she waved at Maggie and Harry. “See?”
Godfrey looked at her siblings, both of whom were now staring at him with mouths agape and amazed if not stunned expressions.
“It makes a difference