Alexandra stubbornly
stayed silent she said, “I hope, Miss Dunforth, that you consider myself and
Miranda to be –.”
The Dowager
was interrupted by the appearance of the butler.
“Madam, the
Marchioness of Cambourne.” The butler quietly opened the door to allow a
stunning blonde, dressed in ice blue silk to enter. The blonde looked at
the butler with disdain, and waved him away. She sauntered over to the
Dowager, leveling a look of muted distaste at Miranda.
“Well,
well. Quite the little tea party you’re having Donata. I assume you
just neglected to tell me we were having guests.” She looked pointedly at
Alexandra with a tiny sneer on her perfect pink lips.
Alexandra’s
first thought was that she was seeing a fairy princess from a fable come to
life. The woman’s beauty was what poets wrote odes to, and men
fought duels over. The Marchioness’s golden tresses, the color of
ripened wheat, curled into an ornate coiffure that pulled artfully back from
her temples. Arrogance and entitlement dripped from her like the diamonds
in her delicate ears. Alexandra couldn’t tell how old she was, for
her face was as unlined as Alexandra’s own and her complexion reminded one of
fresh cream. Was no one in this family plain? Alexandra
looked at Miranda and the still lovely Dowager. I am a duckling
amongst swans .
“Jeanette, dear ,
why don’t you join us for tea? I assumed you would be sleeping late. You
danced so late into the night with our dear Herbert.” The Dowager’s voice
dripped with sarcasm. Alexandra didn’t understand the sudden
tension in the air, but the parlor was rife with it.
Lady Reynolds
stiffened at the Dowager’s tone. Her lip curled into a sneering imitation
of a smile. The two women reminded Alexandra of cats disputing territory.
The Dowager
looked ready to hit her daughter-in-law with her cane. She stared down
Lady Reynolds.
Lady
Reynolds’s hands curled into themselves, giving her nails the appearance of
talons. The perfect features tightened. “Herbert’s a dear, isn’t
he?” Lady Reynolds’s cultured tones said politely. “Just imagine, if Robert
hadn’t married that vicar’s daughter in the nick of time ,” Lady Reynolds
put special emphasis on the words, “well…things would likely be much
different. How f ortunate , don’t you agree Donata?”
The
Dowager’s lips tightened. “You overstep the bounds of politeness.”
“Well,
that’s all ancient history now, isn’t it?”
“We have a
guest, Jeanette.” The Dowager gave a nod in Alexandra’s direction. “You
forget yourself.” The warning in her voice was implicit.
Lady
Reynolds gave a sniff of her perfect nose, ignoring the Dowager. “I have
some errands to attend to. I shall be gone the rest of the
afternoon. Friends to visit.” She turned to Miranda. “Miranda, pray
drink nothing but tea. No cakes or scones! I see in you a tendency
towards stoutness. Now that your brother foolishly declined Percy Dobson’s
offer for your hand, I am assured of nothing but difficulty in finding you
another suitor. If you grow stout, it will only complicate
things.”
Miranda
reacted as if she had been slapped. Her lovely face reddened, and her
whole form deflated like an overdone soufflé.
The Dowager
banged her cane on the floor.
“ Dear, daughter-in-law,
I fear I am out of patience this morning. Pray do not try me .”
The air
around the two prickled with animosity. Miranda lowered her eyes.
Alexandra wished to fade into the tapestry of the sofa. She lowered her
gaze to her lap.
“As you
wish, my lady.” Lady Reynolds curtsied low to the Dowager, smirking with
disrespect. Her skirts rustled softly. The icy gaze pierced the
Dowager with dislike.
She quirked
a perfectly plucked eyebrow in Alexandra’s direction, as if she suddenly
remembered Alexandra was in the room. “Donata, you haven’t introduced
stayed silent she said, “I hope, Miss Dunforth, that you consider myself and
Miranda to be –.”
The Dowager
was interrupted by the appearance of the butler.
“Madam, the
Marchioness of Cambourne.” The butler quietly opened the door to allow a
stunning blonde, dressed in ice blue silk to enter. The blonde looked at
the butler with disdain, and waved him away. She sauntered over to the
Dowager, leveling a look of muted distaste at Miranda.
“Well,
well. Quite the little tea party you’re having Donata. I assume you
just neglected to tell me we were having guests.” She looked pointedly at
Alexandra with a tiny sneer on her perfect pink lips.
Alexandra’s
first thought was that she was seeing a fairy princess from a fable come to
life. The woman’s beauty was what poets wrote odes to, and men
fought duels over. The Marchioness’s golden tresses, the color of
ripened wheat, curled into an ornate coiffure that pulled artfully back from
her temples. Arrogance and entitlement dripped from her like the diamonds
in her delicate ears. Alexandra couldn’t tell how old she was, for
her face was as unlined as Alexandra’s own and her complexion reminded one of
fresh cream. Was no one in this family plain? Alexandra
looked at Miranda and the still lovely Dowager. I am a duckling
amongst swans .
“Jeanette, dear ,
why don’t you join us for tea? I assumed you would be sleeping late. You
danced so late into the night with our dear Herbert.” The Dowager’s voice
dripped with sarcasm. Alexandra didn’t understand the sudden
tension in the air, but the parlor was rife with it.
Lady Reynolds
stiffened at the Dowager’s tone. Her lip curled into a sneering imitation
of a smile. The two women reminded Alexandra of cats disputing territory.
The Dowager
looked ready to hit her daughter-in-law with her cane. She stared down
Lady Reynolds.
Lady
Reynolds’s hands curled into themselves, giving her nails the appearance of
talons. The perfect features tightened. “Herbert’s a dear, isn’t
he?” Lady Reynolds’s cultured tones said politely. “Just imagine, if Robert
hadn’t married that vicar’s daughter in the nick of time ,” Lady Reynolds
put special emphasis on the words, “well…things would likely be much
different. How f ortunate , don’t you agree Donata?”
The
Dowager’s lips tightened. “You overstep the bounds of politeness.”
“Well,
that’s all ancient history now, isn’t it?”
“We have a
guest, Jeanette.” The Dowager gave a nod in Alexandra’s direction. “You
forget yourself.” The warning in her voice was implicit.
Lady
Reynolds gave a sniff of her perfect nose, ignoring the Dowager. “I have
some errands to attend to. I shall be gone the rest of the
afternoon. Friends to visit.” She turned to Miranda. “Miranda, pray
drink nothing but tea. No cakes or scones! I see in you a tendency
towards stoutness. Now that your brother foolishly declined Percy Dobson’s
offer for your hand, I am assured of nothing but difficulty in finding you
another suitor. If you grow stout, it will only complicate
things.”
Miranda
reacted as if she had been slapped. Her lovely face reddened, and her
whole form deflated like an overdone soufflé.
The Dowager
banged her cane on the floor.
“ Dear, daughter-in-law,
I fear I am out of patience this morning. Pray do not try me .”
The air
around the two prickled with animosity. Miranda lowered her eyes.
Alexandra wished to fade into the tapestry of the sofa. She lowered her
gaze to her lap.
“As you
wish, my lady.” Lady Reynolds curtsied low to the Dowager, smirking with
disrespect. Her skirts rustled softly. The icy gaze pierced the
Dowager with dislike.
She quirked
a perfectly plucked eyebrow in Alexandra’s direction, as if she suddenly
remembered Alexandra was in the room. “Donata, you haven’t introduced
Similar Books
