"A love poem," he shouted, clearly delighted. It was a case of mutual loathing-at-first-sight. She had met him twice, at house parties her father dragged her along to. Francis Oakenrott was a boy as rotten as his name implied.
If Dante had conceived of a tenth circle of hell, this was it. "What have you got there?" To Mia's horror, the question was followed by the sound of a scuffle and tearing paper. "Bloody hell, no need to be nasty," the boy retorted, entirely unmoved by this set-down.
"We told you last week that we wanted nothing more to do with you." "I can't imagine why you were looking for us, Rotter," Vander stated, sounding all of a sudden like a future duke. Even worse, she quickly recognized the voices as those of Vander and his friend Tobias, who seemed to be calling himself Thorn these days. She was searching the shelves for anything resembling her favorite novel, Eliza Heywood's Love in Excess, when she heard, to her horror, the sound of boys approaching. Mia finally retreated to the library, a tranquil room with book-lined walls. He and the other Etonians spent their time swigging brandy although it was not yet noon, cursing loudly, and generally pretending to be far older than their fifteen years. He was too godlike for someone like her.īesides, it wasn't as if he danced attendance on any other girl.
Mia didn't mind that: she was happy worshipping him from afar.
It seemed probable since the Duke of Villiers's eldest son, Tobias, was best mates with Vander.Īs it turned out, the house was indeed overrun with boys on holiday from Eton and among the horde was Vander, who roundly ignored her. Mia had begged her father to attend the Villiers's musicale on the chance that the object of her adoration, Evander Septimus Brody, future Duke of Pindar, would be present. They were revealing themselves in rapid succession.
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