Read Online Four Nights With the Duke by Eloisa James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eloisa James
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Vander.
“You’d think they’d be glad to see their master married,” she continued. “But they seem to think that His Grace is making an enormous mistake. It was all I could do not to give Mr. Nottle a piece of my mind last night.” Her cheeks turned pink and she started combing a bit faster.
“The butler?”
“It’s that formal downstairs, my lady, you wouldn’t believe it. Mr. Gaunt would fall about laughing if we bowed and scraped to him the way that Mr. Nottle demands. And yet he didn’t stop the servants from chattering about the upstairs in a way that Mr. Gaunt would never allow.”
“I doubt that my father was very popular in this establishment,” Mia pointed out. “I made myself notorious with the love poem, and after my father and the duchess died together, the scandal flared up again.”
“His Grace is lucky to have you!” Susan insisted. “From what everyone says, he’s never shown the slightest interest in ladies, only in horses. He doesn’t go to balls or even to London for the season; he just spends all his time in the stables. He’s never even made a pretense of wooing a lady.” She lowered her voice. “Some folk think he’s not interested in women, if you know what I mean.”
Mia felt her cheeks grow warm. Those people were wrong. Vander was interested in women. “You can’t blame the household for being dismayed by this hasty marriage, Susan. They would likely wish him to find someone elegant, like his mother. Someone to match all this.” She waved her hand at the furnishings.
Susan wrinkled her nose. “Her Grace wasn’t from the peerage,” she said, “and you can see it in this room. It says everything about her.”
“We mustn’t say such things,” Mia said. “It isn’t polite.”
“This is an anxious room,” Susan pronounced. She wasn’t wrong about that; there wasn’t a single place in the bedchamber where a person could restfully gaze without being reminded either of the duchess’ status or her passion for miniatures.
“What I’m saying is that the servants likely wish that I were a different woman, Susan.”
“All you need is a new wardrobe,” her maid said, not for the first time. Susan was a dear, and always claimed that her mistress underestimated her own charms, whereas Mia insisted she was merely being practical. Tall women could wear gowns that swirled elegantly down from their breasts, but she was so short that her legs looked stubby no matter the style.
She had the vague idea that it would take three or four fittings to achieve a gown that would actually be flattering. She had never had time for that, and the local seamstress definitely wasn’t up to the challenge.
What’s more, Sir Richard had been in charge of the estate monies for the last year. As he wasn’t allowed to withdraw funds himself until he came into full guardianship, he had contented himself with restricting every expenditure—and had ended her allowance on the pretense that, because she was in mourning, she had no need for new garments.
Her Lucibella money was reserved for possible flight with Charlie. Consequently, she would be wearing an ill-fitting muslin gown to her wedding. Vander would probably be in sackcloth and ashes, so it hardly mattered.
Edward wouldn’t have cared. He was a man ofintellect, uninterested in the superficial aspects of a person’s appearance. She was a little surprised to discover that she didn’t feel utterly heartbroken at the idea of marrying a man other than her fiancé.
According to the novels she loved (and wrote), she should still be prostrate on the floor, sobbing. It had been only a month since the jilting, after all. She intended to describe Flora as turning white as parchment, with haunted eyes and newly slender limbs resulting from a vanished appetite.
Mia, on the other hand, was as hungry as ever. In fact, after the first shock of the jilting, she primarily felt irritated rather than grief-stricken, and a temper always made
“You’d think they’d be glad to see their master married,” she continued. “But they seem to think that His Grace is making an enormous mistake. It was all I could do not to give Mr. Nottle a piece of my mind last night.” Her cheeks turned pink and she started combing a bit faster.
“The butler?”
“It’s that formal downstairs, my lady, you wouldn’t believe it. Mr. Gaunt would fall about laughing if we bowed and scraped to him the way that Mr. Nottle demands. And yet he didn’t stop the servants from chattering about the upstairs in a way that Mr. Gaunt would never allow.”
“I doubt that my father was very popular in this establishment,” Mia pointed out. “I made myself notorious with the love poem, and after my father and the duchess died together, the scandal flared up again.”
“His Grace is lucky to have you!” Susan insisted. “From what everyone says, he’s never shown the slightest interest in ladies, only in horses. He doesn’t go to balls or even to London for the season; he just spends all his time in the stables. He’s never even made a pretense of wooing a lady.” She lowered her voice. “Some folk think he’s not interested in women, if you know what I mean.”
Mia felt her cheeks grow warm. Those people were wrong. Vander was interested in women. “You can’t blame the household for being dismayed by this hasty marriage, Susan. They would likely wish him to find someone elegant, like his mother. Someone to match all this.” She waved her hand at the furnishings.
Susan wrinkled her nose. “Her Grace wasn’t from the peerage,” she said, “and you can see it in this room. It says everything about her.”
“We mustn’t say such things,” Mia said. “It isn’t polite.”
“This is an anxious room,” Susan pronounced. She wasn’t wrong about that; there wasn’t a single place in the bedchamber where a person could restfully gaze without being reminded either of the duchess’ status or her passion for miniatures.
“What I’m saying is that the servants likely wish that I were a different woman, Susan.”
“All you need is a new wardrobe,” her maid said, not for the first time. Susan was a dear, and always claimed that her mistress underestimated her own charms, whereas Mia insisted she was merely being practical. Tall women could wear gowns that swirled elegantly down from their breasts, but she was so short that her legs looked stubby no matter the style.
She had the vague idea that it would take three or four fittings to achieve a gown that would actually be flattering. She had never had time for that, and the local seamstress definitely wasn’t up to the challenge.
What’s more, Sir Richard had been in charge of the estate monies for the last year. As he wasn’t allowed to withdraw funds himself until he came into full guardianship, he had contented himself with restricting every expenditure—and had ended her allowance on the pretense that, because she was in mourning, she had no need for new garments.
Her Lucibella money was reserved for possible flight with Charlie. Consequently, she would be wearing an ill-fitting muslin gown to her wedding. Vander would probably be in sackcloth and ashes, so it hardly mattered.
Edward wouldn’t have cared. He was a man ofintellect, uninterested in the superficial aspects of a person’s appearance. She was a little surprised to discover that she didn’t feel utterly heartbroken at the idea of marrying a man other than her fiancé.
According to the novels she loved (and wrote), she should still be prostrate on the floor, sobbing. It had been only a month since the jilting, after all. She intended to describe Flora as turning white as parchment, with haunted eyes and newly slender limbs resulting from a vanished appetite.
Mia, on the other hand, was as hungry as ever. In fact, after the first shock of the jilting, she primarily felt irritated rather than grief-stricken, and a temper always made
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