Read Online An Affair Before Christmas by Eloisa James - Free Book Online
Authors: Eloisa James
Tags: Historical
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course I am!” Jemma said. “Not that Villiers will win. I’m just warming myself to the task of beating him resoundingly. But Beaumont and I haven’t seen each other under intimate circumstances for eight years. It’s not something I am looking forward to.”
“My marriage as I thought of it is over,” Poppy said, interrupting.
They were all silent, so she took that as agreement. “My husband is no longer in love with me. He plans to seduce another woman, and although Louise will not be the one, he is likely out there right now, finding a substitute.”
“Much though I hate to malign my own reputation,” Louise said, frowning a bit, “I don’t think he’ll have much luck. Unless he looks to Lady Rutledge, of course.”
Poppy shuddered slightly. “Louise!” Jemma scolded. “You and I are much more battle-scarred than dear Poppy. We must protect her sensibilities.”
“My husband just told anyone who cared to listen that our marriage was a sham,” Poppy said. “I think my sensibilities had better adjust to the truth of it.”
They all looked up with a certain amount of relief as Fowle entered carrying a tray. “Gingerbread, Your Grace,” he said ponderously. “Hot tea, of course, and hot chocolate. Lemon squares, as Cook feels they are very comforting.”
“This is lovely,” Jemma said.
Poppy took a deep breath and accepted a muffin dripping with butter. “I shall have to make adjustments, that’s all. Do you know, it’s better to know the truth? I’ve felt terrible for the past year, trying and trying to make things better.”
“It’s not your fault, darling, when men stray,” Jemma said.
“No, it’s the fault of women like Louise!” Isidore said, giggling madly.
Louise raised an eyebrow and said, “Quiet, youngster, or I’ll swat you with a lemon square.”
“Who’s calling whom a youngster?” Isidore asked indignantly. “I’m twenty-two years old, Louise Nevill, and you can’t be more than three years over that.”
“Five,” Louise said, adding, “but I am extremely well-preserved.”
Poppy finished her muffin, and let the conversation of her friends wash over her. It had seemed so stark and death-dealing to think that Fletch didn’t love her anymore. As if she had nowhere to turn, and no one to love her. But now—
“I love you all,” she said, sniffing a little.
“Are you going to cry again?” Isidore asked. “Because I love you too, at least as much as I know of you, but not if it’s going to make you cry.”
“We love you too, darling,” Jemma said.
“Perhaps I should leave,” Louise said, putting down her napkin. “I would truly not wish to intrude, and you have my every assurance, Poppy, that your husband will remain terra incognita as far as I’m concerned.”
“Please stay,” Poppy said. “After all, now that I’m leaving Fletch, I need to know what to do next.”
She truly enjoyed the shocked silence that followed her statement.
Chapter 8
THE MORNING POST (CONTINUED)
If the soul of every duchess in London is at risk…let us not neglect the souls of their august partners, the dukes. While the gossip columns rage with stories of drunkenness and infidelity, there are those rare few, like the Duke of Beaumont, who seem to grace their high rank. Yet we have been credibly informed that even this most revered of politicians has shown untoward interest in a young lady, Miss T—. We protect her name in the hope that these reports are mere folly.
H e interrupted her. “You used to call me Elijah in private. The party is over; you needn’t address me as Beaumont.”
Jemma almost pitied her husband, although the emotion was inconceivable. Yet he looked so confused—and stupid, in a manly sort of way. “I came back to London for you, Elijah.” She hesitated. How to say the unspeakable?
“Because my heart may be giving out,” he said, a line appearing between his brows.
“I’m also getting old,” she said, trying to make him
“My marriage as I thought of it is over,” Poppy said, interrupting.
They were all silent, so she took that as agreement. “My husband is no longer in love with me. He plans to seduce another woman, and although Louise will not be the one, he is likely out there right now, finding a substitute.”
“Much though I hate to malign my own reputation,” Louise said, frowning a bit, “I don’t think he’ll have much luck. Unless he looks to Lady Rutledge, of course.”
Poppy shuddered slightly. “Louise!” Jemma scolded. “You and I are much more battle-scarred than dear Poppy. We must protect her sensibilities.”
“My husband just told anyone who cared to listen that our marriage was a sham,” Poppy said. “I think my sensibilities had better adjust to the truth of it.”
They all looked up with a certain amount of relief as Fowle entered carrying a tray. “Gingerbread, Your Grace,” he said ponderously. “Hot tea, of course, and hot chocolate. Lemon squares, as Cook feels they are very comforting.”
“This is lovely,” Jemma said.
Poppy took a deep breath and accepted a muffin dripping with butter. “I shall have to make adjustments, that’s all. Do you know, it’s better to know the truth? I’ve felt terrible for the past year, trying and trying to make things better.”
“It’s not your fault, darling, when men stray,” Jemma said.
“No, it’s the fault of women like Louise!” Isidore said, giggling madly.
Louise raised an eyebrow and said, “Quiet, youngster, or I’ll swat you with a lemon square.”
“Who’s calling whom a youngster?” Isidore asked indignantly. “I’m twenty-two years old, Louise Nevill, and you can’t be more than three years over that.”
“Five,” Louise said, adding, “but I am extremely well-preserved.”
Poppy finished her muffin, and let the conversation of her friends wash over her. It had seemed so stark and death-dealing to think that Fletch didn’t love her anymore. As if she had nowhere to turn, and no one to love her. But now—
“I love you all,” she said, sniffing a little.
“Are you going to cry again?” Isidore asked. “Because I love you too, at least as much as I know of you, but not if it’s going to make you cry.”
“We love you too, darling,” Jemma said.
“Perhaps I should leave,” Louise said, putting down her napkin. “I would truly not wish to intrude, and you have my every assurance, Poppy, that your husband will remain terra incognita as far as I’m concerned.”
“Please stay,” Poppy said. “After all, now that I’m leaving Fletch, I need to know what to do next.”
She truly enjoyed the shocked silence that followed her statement.
Chapter 8
THE MORNING POST (CONTINUED)
If the soul of every duchess in London is at risk…let us not neglect the souls of their august partners, the dukes. While the gossip columns rage with stories of drunkenness and infidelity, there are those rare few, like the Duke of Beaumont, who seem to grace their high rank. Yet we have been credibly informed that even this most revered of politicians has shown untoward interest in a young lady, Miss T—. We protect her name in the hope that these reports are mere folly.
H e interrupted her. “You used to call me Elijah in private. The party is over; you needn’t address me as Beaumont.”
Jemma almost pitied her husband, although the emotion was inconceivable. Yet he looked so confused—and stupid, in a manly sort of way. “I came back to London for you, Elijah.” She hesitated. How to say the unspeakable?
“Because my heart may be giving out,” he said, a line appearing between his brows.
“I’m also getting old,” she said, trying to make him
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