The Elusive Lord Everhart: The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series by Vivienne Lorret Read Free Book Online

shrieking that must have accompanied such a name. Her aunt tended to coddle those she loved to the point of giving way to snobbery. The same could not be said of Boris Reginald James Brutus, who thumped his tail soundly on the floor in blissful surrender to the scratching behind his ears, his tongue lolling to one side. “Which of the names did you assign him?”
    “None,” Everhart supplied. “I simply call him Dog , unless I am cross with him and then I call him Duke .” A telling remark from the son of the Duke of Heathcoat, but she knew better than to comment. All the same, a look in Everhart’s gaze and the quirk of his lips seemed to possess insight into her thoughts.
    “You must admit, Miss Croft,” Rafe Danvers said beside her, startling her with his presence, for she had nearly forgotten he was there, “that he rather looks like a Boris.”
    She made an effort to pull her gaze away from Everhart to answer. “Perhaps it would be better to ask the dog to see which name he prefers.”
    “That’s the thing,” Danvers said with a shake of his head. “He doesn’t yield to any of those names. We have spent too much time trying to persuade him, I suppose, and now he believes we are all idiots for not knowing what to call him.”
    Calliope laughed. “Then perhaps Duke is the perfect name for him.”
    “He won’t respond to that either.” Everhart’s smirk turned into a lazy grin as he continued to watch her. His blue-green gaze seemed to shimmer in the same way a ray of light glanced across jewels, disorienting her for an instant.
    She’d forgotten the seductive power he held in a single look. That same look had inspired her to write four full-page lists in her journal on him. For a time, she’d actually had him at the top of her list for possible Casanova candidates. But in the end, when he’d scolded her so harshly for refusing Brightwell, she’d realized her mistake. He’d only tolerated her company out of deference to his friend.
    Remembering that event now helped her break the spell she was under. She blinked and took a step back for good measure.
    “Then perhaps I will come up with a name to give him before I leave in the morning. For now, I must bid each of you a good night.” She inclined her head to Danvers and offered something of a curtsy to Everhart, but without meeting his gaze again, and summarily left the room.
    Halfway to her own chamber, she realized that she’d forgotten to ask Everhart about Pamela’s letter.
    T earing his gaze away from Calliope Croft’s retreating figure, Gabriel held himself in check. When he’d heard her say “It is imperative that I find that letter” to Danvers in the hall, he hadn’t been sure he would be able to.
    Gabriel wanted to forget about Calliope’s letter. Forget about all letters—especially the one he’d written to Pamela. What a horrendous debacle that was . Right now, he needed to move on with the simple, unfettered life to which he’d grown accustomed.
    Knowing that Danvers was scrutinizing his every gesture and expression at that very moment, he refused to reveal the relief he felt at having survived this encounter. Both Montwood and Danvers had once taunted him by claiming they knew his tell when he gambled, but neither had told him what it was. Therefore, in order to keep himself from giving anything away, he turned to pet the dog with more affection than the beast deserved.
    “You have spoiled my supper, Dog,” he said with one final pat to the side of his neck. The bread wasn’t a great loss, but the cheese had come from their remarkably efficient head butler—private pantry and would have been marvelous with a glass of port.
    Summarily dismissed, the dog loped over to the hearth, turned around three times, and plopped down onto the floor, wholly unconcerned over the reprimand.
    Danvers leaned a hip against the side of a wing-backed chair opposite the sofa. “I must admit, that encounter left me with a modicum of doubt.