happy.
Damned miserable business.
• • •
“Grazie al cielo, la cavalleria è arrivata.” Oh joy, the cavalry is here . She gave Wilhelm a quelling look, communicating that he should cooperate or die an ignominious death.
“Cosa? Qual è il problema?” What? What is the matter? Lord Devon answered in Italian as he approached the library table, observing the books strewn about, Mary’s red-rimmed eyes, Madeline’s pout, and Elise’s absence. He turned to Sophia for an explanation, and the heat of her temper steaming through her calm façade must have told enough about how the girls’ lessons were going.
“Ridi come se avessi detto qualcosa di molto divertente.” Just laugh as though I said something very amusing .
Lord Devon sank into the chair next to hers — the chair Elise had vacated moments earlier in a tantrum. He chuckled, shaking his head, then threw his head back and laughed in lusty peals. He sounded entirely sincere, as though someone tickled his ribs. Mary and Madeline watched with wide eyes, and Elise crept from her hiding place behind a bookshelf.
Lord Devon wiped a fictitious tear and sighed, then leaned in and said in a reminiscing tone, “È sufficiente?” Was that satisfactory?
Sophia burst with a low giggle in her throat and covered her mouth with her hand, looking at him with a smirk as though he had said something outrageous and witty. “Si, lei ha dimostrato il mio punto. Grazie.” Yes, you just illustrated my point. Thank you .
“What? What is so funny?” Madeline whined, looking between her Uncle Wil and her governess.
“Yes, why don’t you share what is so sodding hilarious,” Elise groused, halting behind Lord Devon’s chair as though she expected him to leap up and defer to her.
Instead he stretched and leaned back, settling in. Sophia wanted to kiss him when he lifted the Italian dictionary and dropped it into her upturned hands. “Why don’t you tell me what is so sodding hilarious, Elise?”
He paused to look at each of his nieces in turn, demanding their attention. “Because it sure as hell is not having the privileges of three spoiled little girls revoked until they produce passing marks in their schooling. No, that can’t be what was so sodding hilarious .”
Elise gasped, her brows furrowed in an expression unflattering on her innocent doe-ish face. Sophia was tempted to gape as well. Occasionally she forgot about his volatile temper and brusque manners.
Lord Devon whispered, “Is this is where you apologize, Elise?”
She made a noise like an angry hen. “To the governess ?”
“That should not be necessary,” Sophia interjected as she stood. “I thought I saw a copy of Fordyce’s Sermons over there. I suppose the Misses Cavendish would rather memorize sermons than conjugate verbs in Italian.”
She walked away to a shrill chorus of “No, no please!”
Sophia found both volumes and let them drop the last four inches onto the table, making an ominous thud, complete with a small billow of dust wafting from the gilt-edged pages, a testament to her less-than-illustrious career as a housemaid. That was not lost on Lord Devon, whose lips pulled in a small smile.
Mary leaned forward, reading the title: Sermons to Young Women, by James Fordyce, D.D . The girls were obviously not acquainted with Dr. Fordyce’s pearls of wisdom, having no idea the punishment Sophia had in store for them was much worse than Lord Devon’s threat to revoke privileges. Sophia would sell her own mother into slavery to spare herself from reading even the table of contents.
“Miss Rosalie, what do you suppose will earn my nieces passage into the dining room this evening?” Lord Devon stood and walked to Sophia’s side.
She pretended to think about it. “How about reciting sermon number six, the section titled, On Female Virtue, with Domestic and Elegant Accomplishments .”
“And what must each recite in order to return to her regularly scheduled
Damned miserable business.
• • •
“Grazie al cielo, la cavalleria è arrivata.” Oh joy, the cavalry is here . She gave Wilhelm a quelling look, communicating that he should cooperate or die an ignominious death.
“Cosa? Qual è il problema?” What? What is the matter? Lord Devon answered in Italian as he approached the library table, observing the books strewn about, Mary’s red-rimmed eyes, Madeline’s pout, and Elise’s absence. He turned to Sophia for an explanation, and the heat of her temper steaming through her calm façade must have told enough about how the girls’ lessons were going.
“Ridi come se avessi detto qualcosa di molto divertente.” Just laugh as though I said something very amusing .
Lord Devon sank into the chair next to hers — the chair Elise had vacated moments earlier in a tantrum. He chuckled, shaking his head, then threw his head back and laughed in lusty peals. He sounded entirely sincere, as though someone tickled his ribs. Mary and Madeline watched with wide eyes, and Elise crept from her hiding place behind a bookshelf.
Lord Devon wiped a fictitious tear and sighed, then leaned in and said in a reminiscing tone, “È sufficiente?” Was that satisfactory?
Sophia burst with a low giggle in her throat and covered her mouth with her hand, looking at him with a smirk as though he had said something outrageous and witty. “Si, lei ha dimostrato il mio punto. Grazie.” Yes, you just illustrated my point. Thank you .
“What? What is so funny?” Madeline whined, looking between her Uncle Wil and her governess.
“Yes, why don’t you share what is so sodding hilarious,” Elise groused, halting behind Lord Devon’s chair as though she expected him to leap up and defer to her.
Instead he stretched and leaned back, settling in. Sophia wanted to kiss him when he lifted the Italian dictionary and dropped it into her upturned hands. “Why don’t you tell me what is so sodding hilarious, Elise?”
He paused to look at each of his nieces in turn, demanding their attention. “Because it sure as hell is not having the privileges of three spoiled little girls revoked until they produce passing marks in their schooling. No, that can’t be what was so sodding hilarious .”
Elise gasped, her brows furrowed in an expression unflattering on her innocent doe-ish face. Sophia was tempted to gape as well. Occasionally she forgot about his volatile temper and brusque manners.
Lord Devon whispered, “Is this is where you apologize, Elise?”
She made a noise like an angry hen. “To the governess ?”
“That should not be necessary,” Sophia interjected as she stood. “I thought I saw a copy of Fordyce’s Sermons over there. I suppose the Misses Cavendish would rather memorize sermons than conjugate verbs in Italian.”
She walked away to a shrill chorus of “No, no please!”
Sophia found both volumes and let them drop the last four inches onto the table, making an ominous thud, complete with a small billow of dust wafting from the gilt-edged pages, a testament to her less-than-illustrious career as a housemaid. That was not lost on Lord Devon, whose lips pulled in a small smile.
Mary leaned forward, reading the title: Sermons to Young Women, by James Fordyce, D.D . The girls were obviously not acquainted with Dr. Fordyce’s pearls of wisdom, having no idea the punishment Sophia had in store for them was much worse than Lord Devon’s threat to revoke privileges. Sophia would sell her own mother into slavery to spare herself from reading even the table of contents.
“Miss Rosalie, what do you suppose will earn my nieces passage into the dining room this evening?” Lord Devon stood and walked to Sophia’s side.
She pretended to think about it. “How about reciting sermon number six, the section titled, On Female Virtue, with Domestic and Elegant Accomplishments .”
“And what must each recite in order to return to her regularly scheduled
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