Page 50 of In With a Chance

“Are you going to tell me what has gotten you and Michael so ruffled?” Ernest asked politely yet conversationally as they started to walk along the pavement. “I can’t remember seeing him this unsettled since I placed a rooster in his bedchamber to awaken him for our end of year exams.”

Even in her high dudgeon, Gwen could not help but laugh at that. “You did?”

“He’d done the same to me the year before, so I thought it best to repay the favor,” said the man beside her, his features lighting up and becoming even more attractive as he spoke.

Damn. I’m not supposed to notice that.

“So, what has he done?” Ernest asked lightly.

Guilt tangled in Gwen’s stomach. “You don’t suppose that I was the one to be in the wrong?”

The way Ernest examined her should have been criminal. “You know, it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“That shows how well you know me,” Gwen said bitterly as they halted at the edge of the pavement, waiting for a break in the rushing carriages to cross the street. “Anyone in my family would presume it was my mistake.”

“And was it?”

Oh, blast it all, probably. At least in part. “Yes,” she admitted with a sigh. “I think—I think Phylis might be with child.”

Ernest had taken a step out onto the road, but he wavered, as though unsure whether to go forward or back. “But that’s wonderful!”

Gwen sighed, self-reproach rising. “I know.”

“But—But you don’t look particularly pleased.” His furrowed brow was not judgmental, but more concerned, and the man offered out his arm. “Why?”

‘Why’?

Her breath caught in her throat. She could not recall the last time a family member—anyone, really—had asked her that.

Oh, they said, “Why.” It was usually accompanied by a groan, and a roll of the eyes, and sometimes even additional words such as “…would you say that?” or “…do that now?”

But Ernest…

Gwen’s stomach jolted when they reached the other side of the road, and not because of the small step up to the pavement. No, there was something about the…well, earnest way he’d asked her. He truly wished to understand her.

This was a mistake. Gwen knew it was, in her very bones. This man—was he not in danger of doing something foolish and falling in love with her?

And it was not as though she could do anything about that. She was engaged to Lord Ravenshurst, and she would stay engaged to Lord Ravenshurst until she married Lord Ravenshurst.

That was her plan, and it was going well.

“Miss Chance?” Ernest prompted. “Gwen?”

Hearing her name on the man’s lips should absolutely not have made her quiver, but Gwen could not help it. He actually wanted to hear her thoughts.

When was the last time that had happened?

She sighed heavily as they passed Don Saltero’s Coffee House and considered the swiftest way to explain it. “Look, Jessica and Irene, they always had each other. Right?”

Ernest nodded. “I see.”

“And Michael is the only son, the heir—well, not the heir now, but also still the heir? I’m not sure how it works when Papa gives up his title,” Gwen admitted. “And Teddy—she’s the beauty of the family, even though she is a wallflower.”

“Is she?”

“Yes, she’s a wallflower,” said Gwen with a small smile. “And ever since we were children, Michael and I—”

“Would you like a strawberry ice?”