“When you were eighteen, you left Albany from New York with only five dollars to your name, and managed to obtain a position in the sugar manufacturing company owned by Mother’s father. And don’t tell me I’m just a girl—you’ve always taught me to think outside the confines of my sex.”
“Well, I can be a fool sometimes,” He muttered into a cup of hot coffee.
The sharp breath she took was painful, as though a thousand knives stabbed at her breast. “Mother—”
“Neily, you wouldn’t force her to marry someone she didn’t love,” Her mother said gently.
“Of course I wouldn’t, my love, I’m merely suggesting to our daughter that she see this topic from a mature perspective. She has a duke practically fall into her lap, and it behooves her to accept her good fortune.”
“Was he hideous, or deformed?” Her father raised his eyebrows again. “Hunchbacked or clubfooted?”
“No,” Amanda said honestly.
He was not bad looking. He was handsome she amended. She had noticed his handsomeness even when he lay unconscious on the ground. In motion, he was even more devastating, and her knees weakened like a plate of aspic just thinking about the strong curve of his lips, the curl of his auburn hair at the nape of his neck, the golden freckles scattered across the bridge of his roman nose, and the dark slash of brows over his gray eyes.
But he was so unsettling and mercurial, and quite difficult to know. He was not at all easy-going like his friend Mr. Challoner. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again…but his invitation showed he wished to see her , which was rather flattering and reawakened her unexpected attraction to him. She supposed she was like her father, as he said—needing a challenge and loving the fight of circumstances and people so different from her pampered and indulgent upbringing.
“There!” Her father’s voice broke into her reverie. “The duke is healthy and well formed, and you have not expressed that you find him repellant.”
Her father gestured towards the letter with his fork. “Reply in the affirmative, my love.”
“Do we have to go too?” Lulu asked plaintively.
“Yes, you do,” Her father said forcefully.
“Amanda, dear,” Her mother gave her a searching look.
“Write in the affirmative, Mother,” Amanda replied thoughtfully. “I should like to see the duke again.”
CHAPTER 4
Ursula Malvern lifted her spectacles to her eyes to examine the young person her son had forced her to invite to Bledington. An American young person, she winced. Thus far, she took the hard line set by the late Queen in eschewing pushy Americans and their ilk—leave their boisterous millions to the His Majesty’s set. She had issued an invitation to these Vandewaters, but only to her annual garden party, the most informal and least intimate of entertainments. She did not have to actually invite them into her home. The gel was pretty enough, in a blonde, outdoorsy fashion—a little too tall for her taste, for she fairly towered over many of the gentlemen present—and her white costume was smart, but not too smart to show off that she, unlike most ladies in attendance, could afford to replenish her wardrobe in Paris.
She then scanned the lawn of the South Front of Bledington Park where the young people—Miss Vandewater and her loud brothers, Malvern, his friend Anthony Challoner, the Charteris children from Stanway, and a number of others—played a vigorous game of croquet, and lowered the lorgnette when she finally spied Viola in the crowd. Her companion made
“Well, I can be a fool sometimes,” He muttered into a cup of hot coffee.
The sharp breath she took was painful, as though a thousand knives stabbed at her breast. “Mother—”
“Neily, you wouldn’t force her to marry someone she didn’t love,” Her mother said gently.
“Of course I wouldn’t, my love, I’m merely suggesting to our daughter that she see this topic from a mature perspective. She has a duke practically fall into her lap, and it behooves her to accept her good fortune.”
“Was he hideous, or deformed?” Her father raised his eyebrows again. “Hunchbacked or clubfooted?”
“No,” Amanda said honestly.
He was not bad looking. He was handsome she amended. She had noticed his handsomeness even when he lay unconscious on the ground. In motion, he was even more devastating, and her knees weakened like a plate of aspic just thinking about the strong curve of his lips, the curl of his auburn hair at the nape of his neck, the golden freckles scattered across the bridge of his roman nose, and the dark slash of brows over his gray eyes.
But he was so unsettling and mercurial, and quite difficult to know. He was not at all easy-going like his friend Mr. Challoner. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again…but his invitation showed he wished to see her , which was rather flattering and reawakened her unexpected attraction to him. She supposed she was like her father, as he said—needing a challenge and loving the fight of circumstances and people so different from her pampered and indulgent upbringing.
“There!” Her father’s voice broke into her reverie. “The duke is healthy and well formed, and you have not expressed that you find him repellant.”
Her father gestured towards the letter with his fork. “Reply in the affirmative, my love.”
“Do we have to go too?” Lulu asked plaintively.
“Yes, you do,” Her father said forcefully.
“Amanda, dear,” Her mother gave her a searching look.
“Write in the affirmative, Mother,” Amanda replied thoughtfully. “I should like to see the duke again.”
CHAPTER 4
Ursula Malvern lifted her spectacles to her eyes to examine the young person her son had forced her to invite to Bledington. An American young person, she winced. Thus far, she took the hard line set by the late Queen in eschewing pushy Americans and their ilk—leave their boisterous millions to the His Majesty’s set. She had issued an invitation to these Vandewaters, but only to her annual garden party, the most informal and least intimate of entertainments. She did not have to actually invite them into her home. The gel was pretty enough, in a blonde, outdoorsy fashion—a little too tall for her taste, for she fairly towered over many of the gentlemen present—and her white costume was smart, but not too smart to show off that she, unlike most ladies in attendance, could afford to replenish her wardrobe in Paris.
She then scanned the lawn of the South Front of Bledington Park where the young people—Miss Vandewater and her loud brothers, Malvern, his friend Anthony Challoner, the Charteris children from Stanway, and a number of others—played a vigorous game of croquet, and lowered the lorgnette when she finally spied Viola in the crowd. Her companion made
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