praise. She wasn’t unreasonable, but really!
“I commend your taste.” Choosing not to react or either completely unaware of her annoyance, he seized his knife and fork and attacked his breakfast, The Public Advertiser propped up on the table in front of him. “When will your new ball gown arrive?”
“In a few days.”
“We are to attend a ball Saturday next. I expect the king and queen to be there.”
Charity gasped.
His eyes returned to his paper. “I gather you have not met them before?”
She put her hands on her hips and tapped one toe. “Actually, they came for tea one summer.”
He glanced up with a grin.
“Of course I have not. What should I do when I’m presented?” As she sat down, he wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“Smile, and make sure you curtsey low.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “Of course, but what else is expected of me?”
“They know of our marriage. My uncle was a royal envoy and quite close to the royal family. They may wish to know more of yours. Just answer their questions. It won’t be that difficult.”
Not for you who were born to it! She bit her lip to keep herself from saying something she’d regret. “Very well.”
He smiled. “I’ll be there with you. Don’t worry.” He reached across and patted her hand. “You do look quite charming this morning.”
She propped her chin in her hand and studied him. His thick dusky lashes shadowed his cheek as he read the paper, and she liked how his dark hair curled back from his forehead. “What do you plan to do today?”
“I’m off to the races. I have a horse running.”
“How exciting. What is its name?”
“Mercury.”
“Does he have wings on his heels?”
A spark brightened his eyes. “I do hope so.” He pushed back his chair and rose.
“You won’t be here for dinner?”
“No. Forgive me; I have a dinner engagement with an old friend. I have been absent from London for some time and must catch up with acquaintances.”
Another night spent alone. Charity threw down her napkin.
“I daresay you’re bored,” he said eyeing her uneasily. “But we shall be so burdened with engagements soon you will wish for time alone, I promise you.”
Charity swallowed a retort, knowing whatever she said would sound querulous and unreasonable. He had given her so much and been very honest about what their relationship would be.
She roamed St Malin House, her silk house slippers echoing along the corridors. She found a portrait of her godfather which made him appear more austere than ever, a trait to be found in many relations, it seemed. She spent several hours studying the marble statues and the exquisite Limoges and Sèvres porcelain displayed in walnut cabinets. Further restless hours were spent wandering in and out of the house to walk in the manicured gardens or on the wide stone terrace. A footman insisted on opening the door for her each time, even though she told him she could manage quite well herself. After she implored him to leave it to her, a pained expression appeared on Hove’s face. The poor footman grew red in the cheeks, and she returned to her bedchamber.
A house full of servants was foreign to her. At home in Oxfordshire, the cook, Mrs Morrison and the two maids, Sarah and Vanessa were like family, they’d been with them so long. It had been very hard to see them off to new positions, along with Nanny and Jim, who did for them in the garden. While it was nice to have her every need met, almost before she thought of it, it was difficult to relax and be herself.
Two days later, another of her gowns arrived, which produced a flurry of excitement from Brigitte, but after holding the glamorous creation up to herself in the glass, Charity was quickly bored.
Brigitte folded her new nightgowns of white lawn. “I once worked for a lady who was the mistress of a duke.”
Charity idly turned the pages of the latest fashion magazine, pausing to admire a woman’s outfit much like a gentleman’s
“I commend your taste.” Choosing not to react or either completely unaware of her annoyance, he seized his knife and fork and attacked his breakfast, The Public Advertiser propped up on the table in front of him. “When will your new ball gown arrive?”
“In a few days.”
“We are to attend a ball Saturday next. I expect the king and queen to be there.”
Charity gasped.
His eyes returned to his paper. “I gather you have not met them before?”
She put her hands on her hips and tapped one toe. “Actually, they came for tea one summer.”
He glanced up with a grin.
“Of course I have not. What should I do when I’m presented?” As she sat down, he wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.
“Smile, and make sure you curtsey low.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “Of course, but what else is expected of me?”
“They know of our marriage. My uncle was a royal envoy and quite close to the royal family. They may wish to know more of yours. Just answer their questions. It won’t be that difficult.”
Not for you who were born to it! She bit her lip to keep herself from saying something she’d regret. “Very well.”
He smiled. “I’ll be there with you. Don’t worry.” He reached across and patted her hand. “You do look quite charming this morning.”
She propped her chin in her hand and studied him. His thick dusky lashes shadowed his cheek as he read the paper, and she liked how his dark hair curled back from his forehead. “What do you plan to do today?”
“I’m off to the races. I have a horse running.”
“How exciting. What is its name?”
“Mercury.”
“Does he have wings on his heels?”
A spark brightened his eyes. “I do hope so.” He pushed back his chair and rose.
“You won’t be here for dinner?”
“No. Forgive me; I have a dinner engagement with an old friend. I have been absent from London for some time and must catch up with acquaintances.”
Another night spent alone. Charity threw down her napkin.
“I daresay you’re bored,” he said eyeing her uneasily. “But we shall be so burdened with engagements soon you will wish for time alone, I promise you.”
Charity swallowed a retort, knowing whatever she said would sound querulous and unreasonable. He had given her so much and been very honest about what their relationship would be.
She roamed St Malin House, her silk house slippers echoing along the corridors. She found a portrait of her godfather which made him appear more austere than ever, a trait to be found in many relations, it seemed. She spent several hours studying the marble statues and the exquisite Limoges and Sèvres porcelain displayed in walnut cabinets. Further restless hours were spent wandering in and out of the house to walk in the manicured gardens or on the wide stone terrace. A footman insisted on opening the door for her each time, even though she told him she could manage quite well herself. After she implored him to leave it to her, a pained expression appeared on Hove’s face. The poor footman grew red in the cheeks, and she returned to her bedchamber.
A house full of servants was foreign to her. At home in Oxfordshire, the cook, Mrs Morrison and the two maids, Sarah and Vanessa were like family, they’d been with them so long. It had been very hard to see them off to new positions, along with Nanny and Jim, who did for them in the garden. While it was nice to have her every need met, almost before she thought of it, it was difficult to relax and be herself.
Two days later, another of her gowns arrived, which produced a flurry of excitement from Brigitte, but after holding the glamorous creation up to herself in the glass, Charity was quickly bored.
Brigitte folded her new nightgowns of white lawn. “I once worked for a lady who was the mistress of a duke.”
Charity idly turned the pages of the latest fashion magazine, pausing to admire a woman’s outfit much like a gentleman’s
Similar Books
