sibling with flashing eyes. "Angus Moorehead, if it weren't for Roland's being here, I would do something drastic to you."
"Which is why I'm glad that Roland is here," said Angus.
Clarice drew a deep breath, her color still high. Roland stepped swiftly into the breach. "Have I told you, Clarice? My cousin Ashdon is back in town. He set foot in England scarcely a week past."
Belle smiled as Clarice was instantly diverted from skirmishing with her brother. She knew that there was great affection between the Mooreheads. It showed in their easy manners with one another and even in their mild disagreements. Belle wondered what it would have been like to have been raised in a large family, and she almost envied her friend.
"Oh, is that the one that you have always liked, Roland? The one that went to war?" asked Clarice.
Roland nodded. His expression mirrored the enthusiasm that was suddenly present in his voice as he said, "Exactly so. What tales my cousin could tell us if only he would! He was mentioned in the dispatches more than once, you know."
"Who is your cousin?" asked Belle curiously.
Roland glanced at her in surprise, as though she should have known. "Why, my cousin Adam, of course! Viscount Ashdon, you know."
Belle recalled a certain imperious lady of that name to whom she had recently been introduced. She had not wished to further her acquaintance. "I have met a Lady Ashdon," she said cautiously, not wishing to give offense.
Roland grimaced. "My aunt. I daresay you didn't care for her."
"Oh, no! I—I thought her very polite," said Belle hastily.
With a crooked grin, Roland nodded his understanding. "Yes, she can be freezingly polite. I don't like her much. I don't know anyone who does, really."
"His lordship must. After all, his own mother," said Angus.
Roland considered it, then shook his head. "I don't care to wager on it, Angus."
"A pity. Not liking your own mother, you know," said Angus.
Roland shrugged. "Ashdon doesn't take after her ladyship. My cousin is a right'un, true to the bone. You always know where you stand with him, for he'll tell you."
"I should like to meet the viscount," said Clarice musingly, "I do not know very many eligible gentlemen with titles yet."
"Don't think Lord Ashdon will come dangling after you, Clarice," warned Angus. "He's not like a lot of these other fellows that cluster around you. The man has been to war. He's likely a hero, to boot. He probably thinks about more important things than making up to chits like you."
Clarice was not interested in her brother's observation. Ignoring him, she cocked her head and asked the question most important to her. "Does his lordship have a wife?"
"Clarice!" exclaimed Belle. "My aunt is forever scolding me for my forwardness, and here you are setting such a bad example for me!"
Clarice smiled, her eyes dancing. "Oh, I know one shouldn't display undue curiosity, Belle. But it is only Roland that I am asking, after all."
Roland's eyebrows rose. "No, he does not possess a wife." Still looking thoughtfully at Clarice, he added, "He's a handsome devil, though."
“Then I should like very much to meet him, I think," murmured Clarice.
Belle glanced quickly at Roland's face and thought she saw some hurt reflected in his eyes. "Well, and so should I, naturally. You have made your cousin out to be something of a paragon, Mr. White."
Roland's expression cleared and he smiled slightly. "I don't know about that. What I do know is that my aunt has wished him to wed for years. But my uncle bought his colors for him, and he went to war instead. There was quite a family row over that, my father says." Light suddenly flashed in his gray eyes. "How I envy Ashdon. He saw every campaign of the war. He was even wounded. Twice." Roland seemed particularly affected by this fact, and Angus patted him on the shoulder in commiseration.
Belle could not imagine anyone as sartorially splendid as Roland ever going off to war, unless he wore a hussar's
"Which is why I'm glad that Roland is here," said Angus.
Clarice drew a deep breath, her color still high. Roland stepped swiftly into the breach. "Have I told you, Clarice? My cousin Ashdon is back in town. He set foot in England scarcely a week past."
Belle smiled as Clarice was instantly diverted from skirmishing with her brother. She knew that there was great affection between the Mooreheads. It showed in their easy manners with one another and even in their mild disagreements. Belle wondered what it would have been like to have been raised in a large family, and she almost envied her friend.
"Oh, is that the one that you have always liked, Roland? The one that went to war?" asked Clarice.
Roland nodded. His expression mirrored the enthusiasm that was suddenly present in his voice as he said, "Exactly so. What tales my cousin could tell us if only he would! He was mentioned in the dispatches more than once, you know."
"Who is your cousin?" asked Belle curiously.
Roland glanced at her in surprise, as though she should have known. "Why, my cousin Adam, of course! Viscount Ashdon, you know."
Belle recalled a certain imperious lady of that name to whom she had recently been introduced. She had not wished to further her acquaintance. "I have met a Lady Ashdon," she said cautiously, not wishing to give offense.
Roland grimaced. "My aunt. I daresay you didn't care for her."
"Oh, no! I—I thought her very polite," said Belle hastily.
With a crooked grin, Roland nodded his understanding. "Yes, she can be freezingly polite. I don't like her much. I don't know anyone who does, really."
"His lordship must. After all, his own mother," said Angus.
Roland considered it, then shook his head. "I don't care to wager on it, Angus."
"A pity. Not liking your own mother, you know," said Angus.
Roland shrugged. "Ashdon doesn't take after her ladyship. My cousin is a right'un, true to the bone. You always know where you stand with him, for he'll tell you."
"I should like to meet the viscount," said Clarice musingly, "I do not know very many eligible gentlemen with titles yet."
"Don't think Lord Ashdon will come dangling after you, Clarice," warned Angus. "He's not like a lot of these other fellows that cluster around you. The man has been to war. He's likely a hero, to boot. He probably thinks about more important things than making up to chits like you."
Clarice was not interested in her brother's observation. Ignoring him, she cocked her head and asked the question most important to her. "Does his lordship have a wife?"
"Clarice!" exclaimed Belle. "My aunt is forever scolding me for my forwardness, and here you are setting such a bad example for me!"
Clarice smiled, her eyes dancing. "Oh, I know one shouldn't display undue curiosity, Belle. But it is only Roland that I am asking, after all."
Roland's eyebrows rose. "No, he does not possess a wife." Still looking thoughtfully at Clarice, he added, "He's a handsome devil, though."
“Then I should like very much to meet him, I think," murmured Clarice.
Belle glanced quickly at Roland's face and thought she saw some hurt reflected in his eyes. "Well, and so should I, naturally. You have made your cousin out to be something of a paragon, Mr. White."
Roland's expression cleared and he smiled slightly. "I don't know about that. What I do know is that my aunt has wished him to wed for years. But my uncle bought his colors for him, and he went to war instead. There was quite a family row over that, my father says." Light suddenly flashed in his gray eyes. "How I envy Ashdon. He saw every campaign of the war. He was even wounded. Twice." Roland seemed particularly affected by this fact, and Angus patted him on the shoulder in commiseration.
Belle could not imagine anyone as sartorially splendid as Roland ever going off to war, unless he wore a hussar's
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