was rude not to give him her attention, but she did not care. She focused on the menu. "These are the courses the duke's chef has suggested?"
"Yes, my lady."
Viola tapped her quill against the rosewood desk with deliberate thoughtfulness, taking a great deal of time to consider the list of dishes before she spoke. "I confess , I am uncertain about the serving of eels, Tate. Lady Snowden is one of our most generous contributors, and she simply cannot abide eels."
"No surprise there," John murmured, and sat down in a nearby chair. "Snails suit that lady so much better."
Beside her, Tate made a choked sound, smothering it when she glanced at Viola. Lady Snowden walked and talked and moved so slowly it was enough to drive one mad, but that was no reason for Tate to reward John by laughing. Viola no longer found her husband's wit amusing, and she did not expect her servants to find it so, either. She maintained a dignified, disinterested air, deciding it was best to pretend he was not even in the room.
"Hmm, I think we shall take eels off the menu and replace them with—"
"Escargot?" he suggested.
She looked up at Tate. "Lobster tornadoes," she said, handed over the menu, and turned her attention to their next item of business.
"Now, as to the guest lists, Tate, I am going to send you to present mine to Lady Deane for her inspection."
"Viola, how cruel you are!" John pronounced. "To send poor Tate to face down that odious Lady Deane on her own?"
She gave him a cold stare. "Is this any concern of yours?"
"Yes. I must object to such cruelty to the servants. And to do it on your behalf. Appalling of you, I say."
"Well, it is not out of cowardice, if that is what you imply," Viola answered even as she reminded herself that she did not have to explain her actions to him. This was none of his affair. "I will not give her the satisfaction she would gain if I called upon her in person. She is a baron's wife, well below me in rank, and I will not give her the social coup of my personal attention. Especially since I cannot stand the woman."
"She'll do something spiteful to you in return. She's like that."
Viola ignored him and returned her attention to her secretary. "Now, Tate, when you present the list, Lady Deane will surely make a fuss about inviting Sir Edward and Lady Fitzhugh. When she does, you must mention as tactfully and apologetically as possible that the Duke and Duchess of Tremore insisted the Fitzhughs be included. That ought to cease any silly squabbles over Sir Edward's rank and low connections and who should be invited to one of these things and who should not. It's a charity ball, in heaven's name. Besides, the Fitzhugh daughters are delightful. Take the very same approach if she objects to inviting the Lawrence girls."
"Yes, my lady," Tate said with a sigh. She was clearly not looking forward to being sent forth with the task of presenting Viola's guest list to the formidable, spiteful Lady Deane.
"Never fear, Tate," John said, and Viola looked up just in time to see him wink at her secretary. The flirt. "Just keep in mind that Lady Deane wears wool underwear and you'll do fine. That's why she's always so out of sorts, you know. Itchy drawers."
Tate began to laugh, but to her credit, she smothered it at once, putting her free hand over her mouth.
Viola gave John a frown of reproof, then began to scan her list one last time. "Lord and Lady Kettering, of course. They always contribute a handy sum to the hospitals. The Countess of Rathmore is fine, too. Hmm… Sir George Plowright . That's all right, I suppose—"
"What!"
She glanced up to see John straighten in his chair with an abrupt move.
"You're not really inviting that pompous ass, are you?" he asked, staring at her in dismay.
He did not like it, and that fact was enough to make her want to keep the other man on the list. "Why should I not? He is a wealthy man, and he could make a most generous contribution to the hospitals."
John made a sound
"Yes, my lady."
Viola tapped her quill against the rosewood desk with deliberate thoughtfulness, taking a great deal of time to consider the list of dishes before she spoke. "I confess , I am uncertain about the serving of eels, Tate. Lady Snowden is one of our most generous contributors, and she simply cannot abide eels."
"No surprise there," John murmured, and sat down in a nearby chair. "Snails suit that lady so much better."
Beside her, Tate made a choked sound, smothering it when she glanced at Viola. Lady Snowden walked and talked and moved so slowly it was enough to drive one mad, but that was no reason for Tate to reward John by laughing. Viola no longer found her husband's wit amusing, and she did not expect her servants to find it so, either. She maintained a dignified, disinterested air, deciding it was best to pretend he was not even in the room.
"Hmm, I think we shall take eels off the menu and replace them with—"
"Escargot?" he suggested.
She looked up at Tate. "Lobster tornadoes," she said, handed over the menu, and turned her attention to their next item of business.
"Now, as to the guest lists, Tate, I am going to send you to present mine to Lady Deane for her inspection."
"Viola, how cruel you are!" John pronounced. "To send poor Tate to face down that odious Lady Deane on her own?"
She gave him a cold stare. "Is this any concern of yours?"
"Yes. I must object to such cruelty to the servants. And to do it on your behalf. Appalling of you, I say."
"Well, it is not out of cowardice, if that is what you imply," Viola answered even as she reminded herself that she did not have to explain her actions to him. This was none of his affair. "I will not give her the satisfaction she would gain if I called upon her in person. She is a baron's wife, well below me in rank, and I will not give her the social coup of my personal attention. Especially since I cannot stand the woman."
"She'll do something spiteful to you in return. She's like that."
Viola ignored him and returned her attention to her secretary. "Now, Tate, when you present the list, Lady Deane will surely make a fuss about inviting Sir Edward and Lady Fitzhugh. When she does, you must mention as tactfully and apologetically as possible that the Duke and Duchess of Tremore insisted the Fitzhughs be included. That ought to cease any silly squabbles over Sir Edward's rank and low connections and who should be invited to one of these things and who should not. It's a charity ball, in heaven's name. Besides, the Fitzhugh daughters are delightful. Take the very same approach if she objects to inviting the Lawrence girls."
"Yes, my lady," Tate said with a sigh. She was clearly not looking forward to being sent forth with the task of presenting Viola's guest list to the formidable, spiteful Lady Deane.
"Never fear, Tate," John said, and Viola looked up just in time to see him wink at her secretary. The flirt. "Just keep in mind that Lady Deane wears wool underwear and you'll do fine. That's why she's always so out of sorts, you know. Itchy drawers."
Tate began to laugh, but to her credit, she smothered it at once, putting her free hand over her mouth.
Viola gave John a frown of reproof, then began to scan her list one last time. "Lord and Lady Kettering, of course. They always contribute a handy sum to the hospitals. The Countess of Rathmore is fine, too. Hmm… Sir George Plowright . That's all right, I suppose—"
"What!"
She glanced up to see John straighten in his chair with an abrupt move.
"You're not really inviting that pompous ass, are you?" he asked, staring at her in dismay.
He did not like it, and that fact was enough to make her want to keep the other man on the list. "Why should I not? He is a wealthy man, and he could make a most generous contribution to the hospitals."
John made a sound
Similar Books
