Nicola and the Viscount by Meg Cabot

accept him, you are deluded. Still…well, a few compliments might have helped.”
    â€œI am very glad you said no, Nicky,” Eleanor said, the bright sunshine bringing the russet highlights out in the chestnut curls that slipped from her bonnet. “I should quite hate to see you married to a man who was your inferior, both intellectually and morally.”As she said this last, Eleanor threw a glance over her shoulder at her brother, who was still slumped in the corner of the carriage. “Wouldn’t you, Nathaniel?”
    He merely lifted a dark eyebrow and regarded his sister sardonically.
    â€œWouldn’t you, Nat?” Eleanor said more loudly.
    â€œWouldn’t I what?” Nathaniel wanted to know.
    â€œWouldn’t you hate to see Nicky married to a man who was her intellectual and moral inferior?” Eleanor said in a hiss, still trying, Nicola could tell, to act ladylike in front of her suitor, but really longing, Nicola was sure, to kick her brother. Though what Nathaniel had done now to upset his younger sibling, Nicola could not imagine.
    â€œI suppose so,” Nathaniel said finally, straightening up. For once his expression was serious—although the lock of hair that was forever falling into his eyes somewhat ruined the effect.
    â€œSee here, Nicky,” he began in as stern a voice as Nicola had ever heard him use. Nicola had time only to wonder what on earth Nathaniel Sheridan could have to say to her in such a tone, and why his sister had turned back round in her seat and was staring straight ahead with such assiduous concentration, when a familiar voice called, from quite close by, “I say! Miss Sparks! Is that you?”
    Nicola looked around and saw, to her utter delight, the God pull up in his brand-new phaeton, an even lighter and fancier model than Harold’s.
    â€œI didn’t know you were seeing the Sheridans today,” Lord Sebastian said to Nicola, after greetings had been exchanged all around—rather grudgingly on the part of Nathaniel Sheridan, Nicola thought. Why did he always have to be so purposely rude to Lord Sebastian? “Honoria said something about you going riding with Harold Blenkenship.”
    â€œI started off with Harold,” Nicola explained, “but that didn’t go well, and these fine people kindly rescued me.”
    â€œAh,” the God said, looking more godlike than ever in the bright sunshine that streamed through the leafy canopy the trees made overhead. “That’s a good one. I never pictured you in the role of knight errant, Sheridan. Surprised to see you lift your head out of your books long enough to give it a go.”
    Nathaniel replied easily, “Surprised to see you can make your way about town without an oar stuck up either sleeve, Bartholomew.”
    The God, to Nicola’s great astonishment, began to turn red. Nicola suddenly became aware of a tension in the air between Lord Sebastian’s carriage and the one she was in. She had no idea where it had come from, but was relieved when Sir Hugh said, in his joking way, “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Hadn’t we better move along? We’re holding up traffic here…. ”
    Lord Sebastian, noticing the carriages lined up impatiently behind his, said, “Damn my eyes if he isn’t right. Come, Miss Sparks, I know you’ll be eager to be getting home, and I’m going there now.”
    Nicola, brightening, said, “Oh, thank you, my lord,” and rose to leave Sir Hugh’s carriage and enter Lord Sebastian’s.
    Except that Nathaniel, sitting by the curricle door, didn’t move.
    â€œYou needn’t go,” he said. “We’ll take you home, Nicky.”
    â€œOh, thank you,” Nicola said, still standing. “But it’s out of your way.”
    â€œSir Hugh doesn’t mind,” Nathaniel said. “Do you, Sir Hugh?”
    â€œIf you say so, Sheridan,” came Sir