Read Online This Duchess of Mine by Eloisa James - Free Book Online Page B

believe that Henri took this woman to Lincolnshire because he dislikes my élégance ?” One had toadmire the marquise’s command over her voice. She conveyed withering scorn with nothing more than a shading of tone.
    It was time to move in for the kill. “My husband,” Jemma said, “never, but never , looks at another woman. And why is that, my dear marquise? It is not only because my clothing is perhaps, shall we say, just slightly more graceful than your dogged wearing of black and white, but also because I do not wear my heart on my sleeve.”
    Little white marks had appeared on either side of Louise’s nose. “This English term…I do not know it. Where is my heart?”
    â€œOut for everyone to see. You never flirt. You stay to the side of a ballroom and gaze at Henri with your heart in your eyes. You—”
    â€œSo now my heart is in my eyes?”
    â€œOf course, most people do feel sympathy, though there are always the unkind who mock. You might try to seem a bit indifferent, my dear. A passion so flamboyant is bound to garner pity.”
    â€œAh,” the marquise said. “Pity.”
    â€œElijah never looks at another woman,” Jemma repeated, a bit worried about whether she was overdoing it.
    But the marquise’s nails had curled in such a way that strips of delicate paper shredded off her fan.
    â€œ I know!” Jemma said, sitting up as if suddenly inspired. “You might strive to create a bit of a scandal here in England. Something that would cause a rumor to fly home to Paris, convincing your husband that he is not the only one to enjoy himself with matters of the heart.”
    Louise gave a savage little laugh. “You don’t thinkthat I should have trouble finding someone willing to overlook my chessboard?”
    â€œOh, no, no, no,” Jemma cried. “You mustn’t take me too literally. When you say chessboard, it truly sounds as if I meant you were flat in the bodice, and of course I would never say such a thing! I have no doubt but that many men are delighted with a, shall we say, more modest offering.” Her eyes gently slid away from the marquise’s entirely adequate bosom, as if she were excusing a serious flaw.
    She continued, “Of course, women can be so cruel to each other. Why, the other day a bumbling lady of my acquaintance referred to you in the most disparaging terms—she is really hopelessly ill-bred—oh yes, I believe she mentioned a bird. Could it have been a crow?” She gave a shrug. “At any rate, I defended you. I told her that you were the only woman I considered to have the wit and charm to rival the great courtesans.”
    Louise drew in a sharp breath.
    â€œI mean that as the greatest compliment,” Jemma added. “You could have any man you wished. If you put your mind to it.”
    She paused. “Other than my dear Elijah, of course. He is so very devoted.”
    â€œI don’t care for English men,” the marquise said, chomping down on a lemon tart. “For the most part they are quite brutish in their manners. Their bows are too unformed, too unrefined.” She waved her hand in the air. “They lack that sense of élégance that characterizes the French court. The beauty of the French poise and discretion.”
    â€œWhile your point about elegance is absolutely fair, some Englishmen have a kind of masculine beauté thatI find appealing,” Jemma said. “I have always thought that my husband, the Duke of Beaumont, looks rather like Gerard de Ridefort, but with less affectation. And you know that Marie Antoinette herself called de Ridefort the most beautiful man in Paris.”
    â€œYour husband,” Louise said broodingly. “Dear me, I remember the strangest rumor. But I am sure it is no more than that.” She opened her fan and waved it just below her eyes.
    Jemma shrugged again. “Any scandal that involves the