The Devil Earl. Deborah Simmons

accusation, but they were still an accusation. Hugh Lancaster appeared shocked and a little disgusted, and his attitude engendered activity in Sebastian’s long-dormant emotions.

      Although Hugh’s lack of taste assured Sebastian of his own superiority, he did not like to see Prudence hurt. By God, he had admired the book even when he had thought himself painted black upon its pages! The store around them was full of poorly written tripe that could not hold a candle to Prudence’s prose, and the doltish Hugh ought to give her the praise she deserved.

      Unfortunately, he did not. “A gothic novel!” Hugh exclaimed in distressed accents. “I can hardly countenance it, Prudence. You seem so quiet and well mannered.”

      While Sebastian fought a growing urge to forcibly remove the contempt from Hugh’s face, Prudence seemed unmoved. “I fail to see what manners have to do with writing ability,” she replied calmly.

      And suddenly, Sebastian felt laughter building in his chest again. Prudence Lancaster, who exhibited more intelligence and poise than anyone in the motley group that surrounded her, needed no champion. She could handle the dreary Hugh very well herself, as was exhibited by her razor-sharp riposte.