The Earl of Kent

Charles’s words brought back a memory from a long-ago Christmas where she had foolishly thrown herself at Lord Kent. She had been a girl then, and he’d wanted nothing to do with her. The memory made her mind flood with disquieting thoughts of the past and the regrets she carried about that night. If only she hadn’t asked for a kiss, they might have continued to play billiards, and she wouldn’t have made such a fool of herself.

Their mother growled and chucked her fan at Charles, who deftly caught it.

“You know exactly what I mean, Charles Michael Edward Humphrey. Now talk.”

“Oh,” he sighed dramatically. “The girl from the Sandersons’ ball. You must mean Lily Wycliff.”

“Yes. That Wycliff girl. Who is she?”

Ella leaned closer. Whatever woman held his interest was certainly worth hearing about.

“Well, she’s a widow.” Charles’s teasing tone turned more serious.

Violet’s brows drew together. “A widow?”

“Her husband, Aaron Wycliff, was a favorite cousin of the Duchess of Essex.”

“A country gentleman, then?” Her mother tapped her fingers against her chin in thought.

“I believe so,” Charles answered, and Ella watched in fascination as her brother and mother seemed to have a silent conversation as well, spoken only in looks, as to how serious the situation was.

“And the widow? Where do her people hail from?”

Charles’s mouth opened, but then he looked slightly baffled. “I honestly have no idea.”

Ella set her book down and gave up all pretense of reading.

“You are falling in love with a woman, and you don’t even know who she is?” Violet continued.

Ella was tempted to cut in and tell her mother that sometimes love at first sight did exist. She had experienced that once, years ago. Kent’s soft eyes filled her mind before she banished the painful memory.

Charles frowned. “I didn’t say I was falling in love with her. We’ve only just met.”

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