Read Online Midnight Pleasures by Eloisa James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eloisa James
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McDougal said, pushing the door backward as he spoke. Sophie handed him her velvet pelisse.
When she crooked an eyebrow at him inquiringly, McDougal winked. “You’ll find the countess in her rooms.”
As Sophie disappeared around the curve of the great marble staircase that led to the upper regions of Sheffield House, McDougal smiled to himself. That was a bonny lass, Lady Sophie. Small as a bonnet bee, she was, and light as a fairy, but her smile—it could warm the moon, it could.
When Sophie entered the master suite, Charlotte swung about from a stool before her dressing table, her face lighting up.
“Sophie! How lovely to see you early.”
“No, don’t stand up, sweetheart.” Sophie nimbly bent to kiss Charlotte’s cheek. “I see that Marie is planning something very complicated.” Charlotte’s maid was combing her mistress’s hair, preparatory to fashioning an elaborate nest of braids, satin ribbons, and flowers.
“ Bonsoir , Marie.”
“ Mon dieu! “ Marie squeaked in response. “Look at that gown!”
Sophie looked down obediently. Sure enough, the front of her dress was creased where she had fallen on the carriage floor.
Marie darted across the room and yanked on the bellpull. “I’ll have someone come up immediately, Lady Sophie, and attend to it. Please, slip out of the gown. Here”—she snatched up a flowing peignoir—“you might wear this until your dress is pressed.”
Sophie obediently bent down as Marie eased the delicate silk over her head. Then she sat on the bed.
“Don’t forget that I dampen my chemise, Marie,” she said mischievously.
“ Mais oui , my lady, naturellement ,” Marie breathed, gently handing Sophie’s gown to the curtsying maid who had appeared at the door. Sophie wrapped the peignoir around herself, pushing up the sleeves.
“How are the girls, Charlotte?”
“They’re very well, except that Pippa has taken to ordering everyone to do her bidding. She’s a tiny despot.”
“She always had that potential.” Sophie laughed. “Remember how she used to drive nannies out of the house, one after another—and then she was only a year old! Now she’s what? Two or three? Wait until she’s sixteen!”
“True enough,” Charlotte admitted ruefully.
“Look at this, Charlotte. You’re a veritable giant compared to me!” The slippery lace of the peignoir’s arms wouldn’t stay up and cascaded past Sophie’s hands.
Charlotte grimaced at Sophie, looking at her in the mirror. “In truth, I feel like a giant when I walk next to you.”
“Pooh! You look like a princess and I look like your page,” Sophie said impudently. Her smoky blue eyes were shining with amusement.
“Hurrah!” Charlotte exclaimed. “You’re back!”
Sophie knit her brows. “What on earth do you mean?”
“You look happy again,” Charlotte said. “You’ve had a fragile look the past few weeks….”
“Like a moth singed by the candle?”
“That’s not the analogy I would have chosen,” Charlotte replied. “Like a person who has made a difficult decision and wonders if she made the right one.”
“You’re blunt,” said Sophie, meeting Charlotte’s eyes again in the mirror.
Charlotte twisted about on the stool, heedless of Marie’s muttered reproach as she dropped hairpins on the floor.
“Are you sure , Sophie? Absolutely sure?”
Sophie nodded, her eyes meeting Charlotte’s without flinching.
“Because …” Charlotte’s voice trailed off. “Well, Braddon is a nice person, of course, but he’s not very—”
“Handsome? Interesting? Intelligent?” Sophie suggested, her mouth twisting wryly.
“How can you marry him!” Charlotte flashed back. “Can’t you see how much better it is to marry someone handsome and intelligent?”
“I don’t want to marry your brother-in-law, Charlotte,” Sophie said patiently. “You have to allow me to know what’s best for myself. I don’t want to marry a rake.”
“But Braddon is a rake,”
When she crooked an eyebrow at him inquiringly, McDougal winked. “You’ll find the countess in her rooms.”
As Sophie disappeared around the curve of the great marble staircase that led to the upper regions of Sheffield House, McDougal smiled to himself. That was a bonny lass, Lady Sophie. Small as a bonnet bee, she was, and light as a fairy, but her smile—it could warm the moon, it could.
When Sophie entered the master suite, Charlotte swung about from a stool before her dressing table, her face lighting up.
“Sophie! How lovely to see you early.”
“No, don’t stand up, sweetheart.” Sophie nimbly bent to kiss Charlotte’s cheek. “I see that Marie is planning something very complicated.” Charlotte’s maid was combing her mistress’s hair, preparatory to fashioning an elaborate nest of braids, satin ribbons, and flowers.
“ Bonsoir , Marie.”
“ Mon dieu! “ Marie squeaked in response. “Look at that gown!”
Sophie looked down obediently. Sure enough, the front of her dress was creased where she had fallen on the carriage floor.
Marie darted across the room and yanked on the bellpull. “I’ll have someone come up immediately, Lady Sophie, and attend to it. Please, slip out of the gown. Here”—she snatched up a flowing peignoir—“you might wear this until your dress is pressed.”
Sophie obediently bent down as Marie eased the delicate silk over her head. Then she sat on the bed.
“Don’t forget that I dampen my chemise, Marie,” she said mischievously.
“ Mais oui , my lady, naturellement ,” Marie breathed, gently handing Sophie’s gown to the curtsying maid who had appeared at the door. Sophie wrapped the peignoir around herself, pushing up the sleeves.
“How are the girls, Charlotte?”
“They’re very well, except that Pippa has taken to ordering everyone to do her bidding. She’s a tiny despot.”
“She always had that potential.” Sophie laughed. “Remember how she used to drive nannies out of the house, one after another—and then she was only a year old! Now she’s what? Two or three? Wait until she’s sixteen!”
“True enough,” Charlotte admitted ruefully.
“Look at this, Charlotte. You’re a veritable giant compared to me!” The slippery lace of the peignoir’s arms wouldn’t stay up and cascaded past Sophie’s hands.
Charlotte grimaced at Sophie, looking at her in the mirror. “In truth, I feel like a giant when I walk next to you.”
“Pooh! You look like a princess and I look like your page,” Sophie said impudently. Her smoky blue eyes were shining with amusement.
“Hurrah!” Charlotte exclaimed. “You’re back!”
Sophie knit her brows. “What on earth do you mean?”
“You look happy again,” Charlotte said. “You’ve had a fragile look the past few weeks….”
“Like a moth singed by the candle?”
“That’s not the analogy I would have chosen,” Charlotte replied. “Like a person who has made a difficult decision and wonders if she made the right one.”
“You’re blunt,” said Sophie, meeting Charlotte’s eyes again in the mirror.
Charlotte twisted about on the stool, heedless of Marie’s muttered reproach as she dropped hairpins on the floor.
“Are you sure , Sophie? Absolutely sure?”
Sophie nodded, her eyes meeting Charlotte’s without flinching.
“Because …” Charlotte’s voice trailed off. “Well, Braddon is a nice person, of course, but he’s not very—”
“Handsome? Interesting? Intelligent?” Sophie suggested, her mouth twisting wryly.
“How can you marry him!” Charlotte flashed back. “Can’t you see how much better it is to marry someone handsome and intelligent?”
“I don’t want to marry your brother-in-law, Charlotte,” Sophie said patiently. “You have to allow me to know what’s best for myself. I don’t want to marry a rake.”
“But Braddon is a rake,”
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