Read Online The Sinister Spinster by Joan Overfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Joan Overfield
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another bonnet," Lord Falconer offered, also clearly aware of his responsibilities as a gentleman.
"No, there's no reason to do that." The duchess was already signaling to the groom to help her alight. "I would have to change my gown as well, and the others would be back and taking their tea by then. Please, the two of you go on, else I shall feel guilty for having spoiled the day."
Faced with so pretty an appeal, there was little either Elizabeth or Lord Falconer could do but comply with her wishes. A few minutes later they were rolling down the road toward the ruined chapel, where the others were awaiting them.
"Lady Barrington seems most kind," Elizabeth said, anxious to break the silence stretching between them. "Not at all as I thought a duchess would be." She slid acurious glance at him. "Are you well acquainted with her, my lord?"
"Not well," he replied, easily controlling the spirited team. "We move in different circles." He let several seconds pass before sending her a glance of his own. "She's after your friend, you know."
Elizabeth didn't pretend not to take his meaning. "He will be delighted to hear it," she said, smiling as she pictured Alexi's probable response to the lady's overtures.
"It doesn't bother you?"
She frowned at the question. "Heavens no! Why should it?" Her frown deepened as realization dawned. "If you're hinting there is anything untoward in my friendship with Alexi, you are very much mistaken!" she informed him, her eyes flashing in indignation. "Alexi is but a friend, as dear to me as a brother, and you wrong us both by implying otherwise!"
"Peace, Miss Mattingale," he said, tearing his gaze from the road long enough to send her a reproving frown. "I was implying nothing of the sort. I merely meant that if the prince is indeed your friend, you might wish to put a flea in his ear about her grace. I've no wish to appear ungentlemanly, but the lady's not as careful with her reputation as one would think a duchess would be."
Considering the gossip she'd heard both above and below stair, Elizabeth couldn't pretend to be shocked by his lordship's observation. "Alexi is hardly a callow youth, sir," she said, remembering the wild youth Alexi had been. "He cut his teeth on ladies like her grace many years ago. And as I said, Lady Barrington has been quite kind to me. That is all there is to be said on the matter as far as I am concerned."
Another silence stretched between them. Elizabeth supposed she had offended him and was wondering if she should apologize when the marquess spoke.
"You can be quite haughty when you've a wish to be," he observed, his cool tones giving no hint as to his feelings. "I can see why his highness calls you little queen. What is the Russian word for that, if I may ask?"
The question took Elizabeth aback.
"Karalyevak"
she replied, puzzled he should ask. "You seem rather interested in the Russian language, my lord," she observed, wondering if his question was spurred by mere politeness, or if there might be some other reason behind the remark. "Is it your intention to study it?"
His answer was another enigmatic smile. "Perhaps," he said coolly. "It would seem to have its advantages."
He said no more, and this time Elizabeth saw no reason to break the silence. With her chin held high and her lips firmly sealed she sat beside the marquess, her troubling secrets and anguished doubts pulled tightly about her like a woolen cloak.
Adam spent a miserable afternoon avoiding the obvious machinations of the matchmaking mamas and listening to Viscount Camborne prattling on about sheep dip. Usually he suffered such tortures in noble silence, regarding them as another aspect of the duty he owed to his title. Yet for reasons he could not explain, he was finding it increasingly difficult to retain the aura of cool civility for which he was known.
It little helped his black mood to see Miss Mattingale being run ragged by Lady Derring and her crowd. As he watched in seething
"No, there's no reason to do that." The duchess was already signaling to the groom to help her alight. "I would have to change my gown as well, and the others would be back and taking their tea by then. Please, the two of you go on, else I shall feel guilty for having spoiled the day."
Faced with so pretty an appeal, there was little either Elizabeth or Lord Falconer could do but comply with her wishes. A few minutes later they were rolling down the road toward the ruined chapel, where the others were awaiting them.
"Lady Barrington seems most kind," Elizabeth said, anxious to break the silence stretching between them. "Not at all as I thought a duchess would be." She slid acurious glance at him. "Are you well acquainted with her, my lord?"
"Not well," he replied, easily controlling the spirited team. "We move in different circles." He let several seconds pass before sending her a glance of his own. "She's after your friend, you know."
Elizabeth didn't pretend not to take his meaning. "He will be delighted to hear it," she said, smiling as she pictured Alexi's probable response to the lady's overtures.
"It doesn't bother you?"
She frowned at the question. "Heavens no! Why should it?" Her frown deepened as realization dawned. "If you're hinting there is anything untoward in my friendship with Alexi, you are very much mistaken!" she informed him, her eyes flashing in indignation. "Alexi is but a friend, as dear to me as a brother, and you wrong us both by implying otherwise!"
"Peace, Miss Mattingale," he said, tearing his gaze from the road long enough to send her a reproving frown. "I was implying nothing of the sort. I merely meant that if the prince is indeed your friend, you might wish to put a flea in his ear about her grace. I've no wish to appear ungentlemanly, but the lady's not as careful with her reputation as one would think a duchess would be."
Considering the gossip she'd heard both above and below stair, Elizabeth couldn't pretend to be shocked by his lordship's observation. "Alexi is hardly a callow youth, sir," she said, remembering the wild youth Alexi had been. "He cut his teeth on ladies like her grace many years ago. And as I said, Lady Barrington has been quite kind to me. That is all there is to be said on the matter as far as I am concerned."
Another silence stretched between them. Elizabeth supposed she had offended him and was wondering if she should apologize when the marquess spoke.
"You can be quite haughty when you've a wish to be," he observed, his cool tones giving no hint as to his feelings. "I can see why his highness calls you little queen. What is the Russian word for that, if I may ask?"
The question took Elizabeth aback.
"Karalyevak"
she replied, puzzled he should ask. "You seem rather interested in the Russian language, my lord," she observed, wondering if his question was spurred by mere politeness, or if there might be some other reason behind the remark. "Is it your intention to study it?"
His answer was another enigmatic smile. "Perhaps," he said coolly. "It would seem to have its advantages."
He said no more, and this time Elizabeth saw no reason to break the silence. With her chin held high and her lips firmly sealed she sat beside the marquess, her troubling secrets and anguished doubts pulled tightly about her like a woolen cloak.
Adam spent a miserable afternoon avoiding the obvious machinations of the matchmaking mamas and listening to Viscount Camborne prattling on about sheep dip. Usually he suffered such tortures in noble silence, regarding them as another aspect of the duty he owed to his title. Yet for reasons he could not explain, he was finding it increasingly difficult to retain the aura of cool civility for which he was known.
It little helped his black mood to see Miss Mattingale being run ragged by Lady Derring and her crowd. As he watched in seething
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