Read Online Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online
Authors: M. C. Beaton
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Lady Fortescue and the colonel. “You’ve all gone too far,” he said. “So hear this. I am going to marry Mary Budge.”
“No!” screamed Miss Tonks.
“Fiddle,” said Lady Fortescue.
“You can’t,” said the colonel bluntly.
“I can and I will,” declared Sir Philip.
“Has she accepted you?” asked Lady Fortescue.
“No, ain’t asked her yet. But she will. She knows which side her bread is buttered on.”
“That one likes her bread buttered on both sides, and loaves and loaves of it, too,” said Miss Tonks with a break in her voice.
“And what’s more,” went on Sir Philip who, Arabella noticed shrewdly, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, “I think I’ll get you to give me my share in this hotel. Fed up working. Want to be a gentleman.”
Miss Tonks rose to her feet. “Nothing,” she said passionately, “could
ever
make you a gentleman!” She marched from the room, her head high, two spots of colour burning on her cheeks. Arabella followed her.
“Come down to Mama’s apartment,” said Arabella.
Miss Tonks shook her head blindly. “Why ornament an old fool like me?”
“Because it will make you feel better,” said Arabella quietly. “You are already a distinguished-looking lady, Letitia. I would like to see what Monsieur André does with your hair. And I’ll tell you something else. I do not think Sir Philip is going to propose to Mrs. Budge.”
“But he said…”
“He said it to get revenge on all of you, firstly because he really does care for that awful woman, but secondly because he smells secrets from which he is excluded. He is like a bad child, I think. Come along.”
***
The earl was dancing with Lady Carruthers. He was glad it was a country dance, for the few times the figure of the dance brought them together caused her to ogle him in quite a dreadful way and so it was easy for him to show coldness to her. And hard as she worked at flirting, Lady Carruthers’s spirits were plunging by the minute. The earl was the first gentleman who had asked her to dance and she feared he would be the last that evening. She could not see what she really looked like when she surveyed herself in the glass. She still saw herself as young as her clothes. And yet there was no denying that her dreams of being surrounded by eligible men were falling about her ears. Instead of sitting with the chaperons and dowagers, she had taken a place with the young débutantes. That had been a mistake, for as each was taken up to dance, she was left alone on her rout-chair, feeling exposed. She could have crossed the room and joined friends of her own age, but she felt that by so doing she would draw attention to her age. Of course London was thin of company, but it was mortifying after all these years to find herself a wallflower. When her dance with the earl was over and they were promenading around the room, she said with an arch look, “I look forward to your call tomorrow, my lord. As we are both resident in the same hotel, I feel confident that you will call in person.”
“I doubt if that will be possible,” he said loftily. “I have many engagements.” And with the next dance being announced, he led her back to that lonely seat.
***
The fashionable crop that was to have been Arabella’s was now adorning Miss Tonks’ head. “What do you think?” she asked nervously after the hairdresser had left.
Arabella put her head on one side. “You know,” she said consideringly, “it makes you look
years
younger, and I wonder what he used to get that shine. I asked him but he said it was a secret recipe.”
Miss Tonks’ hair was now a cap of shining curls. “And you should not wear these starched caps,” went on Arabella. “Some pretty lace ones, I think, to show those curls to advantage. Come upstairs with me and let us see if the others are still there.”
The others were still there, going through the books, Sir Philip’s face looking sour. “So you say,” Lady
“No!” screamed Miss Tonks.
“Fiddle,” said Lady Fortescue.
“You can’t,” said the colonel bluntly.
“I can and I will,” declared Sir Philip.
“Has she accepted you?” asked Lady Fortescue.
“No, ain’t asked her yet. But she will. She knows which side her bread is buttered on.”
“That one likes her bread buttered on both sides, and loaves and loaves of it, too,” said Miss Tonks with a break in her voice.
“And what’s more,” went on Sir Philip who, Arabella noticed shrewdly, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely, “I think I’ll get you to give me my share in this hotel. Fed up working. Want to be a gentleman.”
Miss Tonks rose to her feet. “Nothing,” she said passionately, “could
ever
make you a gentleman!” She marched from the room, her head high, two spots of colour burning on her cheeks. Arabella followed her.
“Come down to Mama’s apartment,” said Arabella.
Miss Tonks shook her head blindly. “Why ornament an old fool like me?”
“Because it will make you feel better,” said Arabella quietly. “You are already a distinguished-looking lady, Letitia. I would like to see what Monsieur André does with your hair. And I’ll tell you something else. I do not think Sir Philip is going to propose to Mrs. Budge.”
“But he said…”
“He said it to get revenge on all of you, firstly because he really does care for that awful woman, but secondly because he smells secrets from which he is excluded. He is like a bad child, I think. Come along.”
***
The earl was dancing with Lady Carruthers. He was glad it was a country dance, for the few times the figure of the dance brought them together caused her to ogle him in quite a dreadful way and so it was easy for him to show coldness to her. And hard as she worked at flirting, Lady Carruthers’s spirits were plunging by the minute. The earl was the first gentleman who had asked her to dance and she feared he would be the last that evening. She could not see what she really looked like when she surveyed herself in the glass. She still saw herself as young as her clothes. And yet there was no denying that her dreams of being surrounded by eligible men were falling about her ears. Instead of sitting with the chaperons and dowagers, she had taken a place with the young débutantes. That had been a mistake, for as each was taken up to dance, she was left alone on her rout-chair, feeling exposed. She could have crossed the room and joined friends of her own age, but she felt that by so doing she would draw attention to her age. Of course London was thin of company, but it was mortifying after all these years to find herself a wallflower. When her dance with the earl was over and they were promenading around the room, she said with an arch look, “I look forward to your call tomorrow, my lord. As we are both resident in the same hotel, I feel confident that you will call in person.”
“I doubt if that will be possible,” he said loftily. “I have many engagements.” And with the next dance being announced, he led her back to that lonely seat.
***
The fashionable crop that was to have been Arabella’s was now adorning Miss Tonks’ head. “What do you think?” she asked nervously after the hairdresser had left.
Arabella put her head on one side. “You know,” she said consideringly, “it makes you look
years
younger, and I wonder what he used to get that shine. I asked him but he said it was a secret recipe.”
Miss Tonks’ hair was now a cap of shining curls. “And you should not wear these starched caps,” went on Arabella. “Some pretty lace ones, I think, to show those curls to advantage. Come upstairs with me and let us see if the others are still there.”
The others were still there, going through the books, Sir Philip’s face looking sour. “So you say,” Lady
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