my sister.”
“Chaperoned by your sister? Interesting phrasing but oh, wonderful.
Then I am looking forward to meeting her. Will she be at lunch?”
“No, she eats in her rooms.” As they approached the dining room and he reached for the knob, he turned to her. “My sister has been ill for some time…since her husband died. She rarely leaves her rooms.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there…”
“No. No one can force help on her, not until she wants it.”
He was unable to hide the note of sadness in his tone. Kathryn elected to stay quiet, and he left that last sentence hanging in the air.
Kathryn’s place was set to his right, intimately rather than at the end of the table as had been the custom when his parents dined in this room.
Today was his first meal at the head of the table and he contemplated the significance of that change as the footman set the soup bowl in front of 39
Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch
him with Hallthorpe supervising.
“My lord, I hope the meal meets with your approval. Cook has made some of your favorites. This is…”
“Yes, I can smell the lamb. I know it will be excellent. Thank you.”
“Miss Ragland, I am afraid you will have to endure the machinations of my staff with the seating and the menu. It appears that they have taken it upon themselves to see to my every need.”
“I think they’re glad to see you.” Her lips turned up and she graced him with a warm smile. As their eyes met, and he returned her regard, she seemed to him to become all of a sudden quite self-conscious. Their close seating arrangements must not have been lost on her either.
As she dedicated herself to her food, Michael wondered how she must feel wearing a stranger’s clothes with her hair styled as it was.
Probably very uncomfortable. She had been in breeches and wearing her mane of red-gold hair wildly long and loose about her. But now she looked astonishingly…perfect. He shook his head and attempted to bring her out of her brown study.
“You’re obviously correct, but I believe my staff is quite as glad to meet you as they are to see me.”
“And why is that?” She took a dainty spoonful of the delicious tasting soup.
“I am a stuffy old soldier. You are a fascinating traveler from America.”
“Actually I’m a lost, shoeless commoner who was lucky enough to meet a nice man, who felt sorry for me and brought me to his palatial home,” she catalogued.
“Lost and shoeless, yes. Common, no.”
“You are absolutely blowing your compliment quota out of the water. I believe that was another one.” She gave him a flirtatious grin.
“I will set about rectifying that by plying you with insults. I believe you are using the wrong fork for your figs, Miss Ragland.” She began to laugh and he watched her glance back and forth from her plate to the remaining silverware.
“What is funny, Miss Ragland? Am I now dripping my wine?”
“Oh no, Captain. That was pretty lame as insults go and I was just thinking about how, umm… proper I looked.”
“Please enlighten me on how that is funny.”
“Well, just yesterday I was wearing shorts, with my hair pulled into a pony tail and presenting a picture about as unfeminine and improper as well, as opposite as this.”
Shorts! He was visualizing men’s smalls! “Tell me, what are shorts 40
Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch
and a pony tail? It sounds intriguing.”
“Shorts are short pants, cut off above the knees. Shorter than your riding pants…I believe your society matrons would call them positively scandalous. ”
He laughed out loud at her very successful imitation of those feared ladies.
“A pony tail is the way of wearing hair pulled back into a rubber band so that it has the effect of looking like a horse’s tail.”
“You choose to look like a horse’s tail?” he asked with a low rumble barely concealing his enjoyment at her expense.
“No, not look like a horse’s tail. Just the hair part—the
“Chaperoned by your sister? Interesting phrasing but oh, wonderful.
Then I am looking forward to meeting her. Will she be at lunch?”
“No, she eats in her rooms.” As they approached the dining room and he reached for the knob, he turned to her. “My sister has been ill for some time…since her husband died. She rarely leaves her rooms.”
“I’m so sorry. Is there…”
“No. No one can force help on her, not until she wants it.”
He was unable to hide the note of sadness in his tone. Kathryn elected to stay quiet, and he left that last sentence hanging in the air.
Kathryn’s place was set to his right, intimately rather than at the end of the table as had been the custom when his parents dined in this room.
Today was his first meal at the head of the table and he contemplated the significance of that change as the footman set the soup bowl in front of 39
Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch
him with Hallthorpe supervising.
“My lord, I hope the meal meets with your approval. Cook has made some of your favorites. This is…”
“Yes, I can smell the lamb. I know it will be excellent. Thank you.”
“Miss Ragland, I am afraid you will have to endure the machinations of my staff with the seating and the menu. It appears that they have taken it upon themselves to see to my every need.”
“I think they’re glad to see you.” Her lips turned up and she graced him with a warm smile. As their eyes met, and he returned her regard, she seemed to him to become all of a sudden quite self-conscious. Their close seating arrangements must not have been lost on her either.
As she dedicated herself to her food, Michael wondered how she must feel wearing a stranger’s clothes with her hair styled as it was.
Probably very uncomfortable. She had been in breeches and wearing her mane of red-gold hair wildly long and loose about her. But now she looked astonishingly…perfect. He shook his head and attempted to bring her out of her brown study.
“You’re obviously correct, but I believe my staff is quite as glad to meet you as they are to see me.”
“And why is that?” She took a dainty spoonful of the delicious tasting soup.
“I am a stuffy old soldier. You are a fascinating traveler from America.”
“Actually I’m a lost, shoeless commoner who was lucky enough to meet a nice man, who felt sorry for me and brought me to his palatial home,” she catalogued.
“Lost and shoeless, yes. Common, no.”
“You are absolutely blowing your compliment quota out of the water. I believe that was another one.” She gave him a flirtatious grin.
“I will set about rectifying that by plying you with insults. I believe you are using the wrong fork for your figs, Miss Ragland.” She began to laugh and he watched her glance back and forth from her plate to the remaining silverware.
“What is funny, Miss Ragland? Am I now dripping my wine?”
“Oh no, Captain. That was pretty lame as insults go and I was just thinking about how, umm… proper I looked.”
“Please enlighten me on how that is funny.”
“Well, just yesterday I was wearing shorts, with my hair pulled into a pony tail and presenting a picture about as unfeminine and improper as well, as opposite as this.”
Shorts! He was visualizing men’s smalls! “Tell me, what are shorts 40
Duke of Her Dreams – Olivia Ritch
and a pony tail? It sounds intriguing.”
“Shorts are short pants, cut off above the knees. Shorter than your riding pants…I believe your society matrons would call them positively scandalous. ”
He laughed out loud at her very successful imitation of those feared ladies.
“A pony tail is the way of wearing hair pulled back into a rubber band so that it has the effect of looking like a horse’s tail.”
“You choose to look like a horse’s tail?” he asked with a low rumble barely concealing his enjoyment at her expense.
“No, not look like a horse’s tail. Just the hair part—the
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