Read Online More than a Mistress/No Man's Mistress by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Balogh
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grace.” The doctor, who had finished rebandaging the duke’s leg, looked considerably flustered.
It was all her fault, of course, Jane thought. It came of having grown up in an enlightened home, in which servants had invariably been treated as if they were people and in which courtesy to others had been an ingrained virtue. She really must learn to curb her tongue if she was to have this chance of earning three weeks’ salary to take with her into the unknown beyond it.
The Duke of Tresham submitted to being carried downstairs, though not before he had dismissed Jane and instructed her to stay out of his sight until he summoned her. The summons came half an hour later. He was in the drawing room on the first floor today, reclining on a sofa.
“My head appears to have returned to its normal size this morning,” he told her. “You will be pleased to learn that you will not be much called upon to use any of your considerable resources in entertaining me. I have givenHawkins leave to admit any visitors who may call, within reason, of course. He has express instructions to exclude any milliners’ assistants and their ilk who rap on the door.”
Jane’s stomach lurched at the very thought of visitors.
“I will excuse myself, your grace,” she said, “whenever someone calls.”
“Will you indeed?” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I assume,” she said, “it will be mostly gentlemen who will call. My presence can only inhibit the conversation.”
He startled her by grinning at her suddenly, completely transforming himself into a gentleman who looked both mischievous and far younger than usual. And almost handsome.
“Miss Ingleby,” he said, “I do believe you are a prude.”
“Yes, your grace,” she admitted. “I am.”
“Go and fetch that cushion from the library,” he instructed her. “And set it under my leg.”
“You might say please once in a while, you know,” she told him as she turned toward the door.
“I might,” he retorted. “But then again, I might not. I am in the position to give the commands. Why should I pretend that they are merely requests?”
“Perhaps for the sake of your self-respect,” she said, looking back at him. “Perhaps out of deference to the feelings of others. Most people respond more readily to a request than to a command.”
“And yet,” he said softly, “it appears that you are in the process of obeying my command, Miss Ingleby.”
“But with a mutinous heart,” she said, leaving the room before he could have the last word.
She returned with the cushion a couple of minutes later, crossed the room without a word, and, without looking at him, positioned it carefully beneath his leg. She had noticed in his bedchamber earlier that yesterday’s swelling had gone down. But she had noticed too his habit of rubbing his thigh and baring his teeth occasionally, sure signs that he was in considerable pain. Being a proud man, of course, he could not be expected to admit to feeling any at all.
“Apart from the thin line of your lips,” the duke said, “I would not know you were severely out of charity with me, Miss Ingleby. I expected at the very least that you would jerk up my leg and slam it down onto the cushion. I was all ready to deal with such a show of temper. Now you have deprived me of the opportunity to deliver my carefully rehearsed setdown.”
“You are employing me as a nurse, your grace,” she reminded him. “I am to comfort you, not harm you for my own amusement. Besides, if I feel indignation on any subject, I have the vocabulary with which to express it. I do not need to resort to violence.”
Which was as massive a lie as any she had ever told, she thought even as the words were issuing from her lips. For a moment she felt cold and nauseated, her stomach muscles clenching in the now-familiar feeling of panic.
“Miss Ingleby,” the Duke of Tresham said meekly, “thank you for fetching the cushion.”
Well. That silenced
It was all her fault, of course, Jane thought. It came of having grown up in an enlightened home, in which servants had invariably been treated as if they were people and in which courtesy to others had been an ingrained virtue. She really must learn to curb her tongue if she was to have this chance of earning three weeks’ salary to take with her into the unknown beyond it.
The Duke of Tresham submitted to being carried downstairs, though not before he had dismissed Jane and instructed her to stay out of his sight until he summoned her. The summons came half an hour later. He was in the drawing room on the first floor today, reclining on a sofa.
“My head appears to have returned to its normal size this morning,” he told her. “You will be pleased to learn that you will not be much called upon to use any of your considerable resources in entertaining me. I have givenHawkins leave to admit any visitors who may call, within reason, of course. He has express instructions to exclude any milliners’ assistants and their ilk who rap on the door.”
Jane’s stomach lurched at the very thought of visitors.
“I will excuse myself, your grace,” she said, “whenever someone calls.”
“Will you indeed?” His eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I assume,” she said, “it will be mostly gentlemen who will call. My presence can only inhibit the conversation.”
He startled her by grinning at her suddenly, completely transforming himself into a gentleman who looked both mischievous and far younger than usual. And almost handsome.
“Miss Ingleby,” he said, “I do believe you are a prude.”
“Yes, your grace,” she admitted. “I am.”
“Go and fetch that cushion from the library,” he instructed her. “And set it under my leg.”
“You might say please once in a while, you know,” she told him as she turned toward the door.
“I might,” he retorted. “But then again, I might not. I am in the position to give the commands. Why should I pretend that they are merely requests?”
“Perhaps for the sake of your self-respect,” she said, looking back at him. “Perhaps out of deference to the feelings of others. Most people respond more readily to a request than to a command.”
“And yet,” he said softly, “it appears that you are in the process of obeying my command, Miss Ingleby.”
“But with a mutinous heart,” she said, leaving the room before he could have the last word.
She returned with the cushion a couple of minutes later, crossed the room without a word, and, without looking at him, positioned it carefully beneath his leg. She had noticed in his bedchamber earlier that yesterday’s swelling had gone down. But she had noticed too his habit of rubbing his thigh and baring his teeth occasionally, sure signs that he was in considerable pain. Being a proud man, of course, he could not be expected to admit to feeling any at all.
“Apart from the thin line of your lips,” the duke said, “I would not know you were severely out of charity with me, Miss Ingleby. I expected at the very least that you would jerk up my leg and slam it down onto the cushion. I was all ready to deal with such a show of temper. Now you have deprived me of the opportunity to deliver my carefully rehearsed setdown.”
“You are employing me as a nurse, your grace,” she reminded him. “I am to comfort you, not harm you for my own amusement. Besides, if I feel indignation on any subject, I have the vocabulary with which to express it. I do not need to resort to violence.”
Which was as massive a lie as any she had ever told, she thought even as the words were issuing from her lips. For a moment she felt cold and nauseated, her stomach muscles clenching in the now-familiar feeling of panic.
“Miss Ingleby,” the Duke of Tresham said meekly, “thank you for fetching the cushion.”
Well. That silenced
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