**THE BRAZEN SERIES is part of the GOLDEN UNIVERSE**
♦YOU MUST HAVE READ BOOK TWO, A BRAZEN DUTY, TO READ THIS SEQUEL!♦
♦♦It is ALSO recommended that you read THE GOLDEN GIRL/DUCHESS/PRINCESS & QUEEN, as events in this novel follow those!♦♦
After t...
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♪ If I can live without you, sue me Somebody told me that you think I'm tryna make you jealous, jealous ♪ {Lennon Stella—Jealous}
Sir Fletcher fumed off to the side, nursing his second or third goblet of wine, as Harriet greeted her suitors. He'd stomped off after singling out Prince Jules—out of envy, no doubt—and Harriet had to refrain from scolding him in front of everyone.
Virgil had been next, plain but gracious, eloquent but monotone. Meaning it wasn't difficult for Jules—the mystery Italian dignitary—to interrupt Harriet's focus while she tried to tune in to Virgil. She was apologetic when he bowed once more, a slight smear of dejection spreading over his features. He'd worked so hard to be neutral, but she'd caught his discomfort, as if he knew he'd have to make many efforts to woo her.
He is pleasing to the eye, and fun to drink with... but do we have anything else in common?
Following Virgil were two young men who looked like twins, though one had a more rugged air to him.
"The sons of Knight Andrew Baxter of Eastrick," said the herald, at the bottom of the platform. "To the left is Archibald, the eldest. To the right is Abraham, the second son."
They inclined their heads, and Harriet took in their appearances. Both were the same height as her, and had rich ebony hair and chestnut eyes flecked with gray. But while Archibald was taller, and sported more scruff on his tanned chin and above his lips, Abraham had a certain spunk to him. He fidgeted to and fro like a child eager to run outside to play. He was clean-shaven and his locks were sleek, where his older brother's were wavy and unkempt. But they were both charming, despite seeming a smidgen too young to contemplate becoming a Vidame.
Then again... I am barely old enough myself.
"Miss Thatcher, it is a pleasure to meet you at last," said Archibald, reaching for Harriet's hand to kiss it. Abraham had reached out, too, but the older brother beat him to it. "We are honored to participate in your season."
"Enchanté," said Abraham, wiggling his eyebrows as he took his turn and placed a peck atop Harriet's knuckles.
Archibald's cheeks twitched at his brother's tonality, and after another quick acknowledgment of Harriet, he tugged him away.
Harriet took a sip of her wine and peered into the goblet, half hoping to fall into it and drown in the liquid. So far, she'd been through so much. Irritated by Jacob's jealousy, embarrassed by Jules' eccentric introduction to her people, and taken aback by the brothers she'd just met and their apparent youth. What else awaited her? She'd studied each of these bachelors and their curriculums, yet nothing had prepared her for seeing them in person.
"The Viscount of Castlebet, Sir Pascal Calais," said the herald, fissuring through Harriet's momentary repose of imagining herself swimming in her cup.
