50 Ways to Ruin a Rake by Jade Lee Page B

Miss Smithson, Mr. Anaedsley,” said the duke as he stepped forward and executed a smooth bow.
    Meanwhile, Her Grace frowned, obviously searching her memory. “Mr. Anaedsley. Mr. Trevor Anaedsley, grandson to the Duke of Timby. Goodness, I stitched quite a number of gowns for you, sir.”
    Beside her, Trevor chuckled as he pulled off his hat and gloves. “For me, Your Grace? I assure you, I have never worn a gown in my life.”
    â€œNo, sir, but countless ladies have ordered them just to please you.” She smiled as she joined her husband’s side. “I must know, is yellow truly your favorite color?”
    He frowned. “Yellow? No, Your Grace. I favor purple instead.”
    â€œVery royal of you,” she said. “And I always did think Miss Atterberry somewhat addled. Didn’t stop me from selling a dozen or more yellow gowns last Season.”
    â€œVery clever, Wendy,” her husband said with a smile, “but we shouldn’t keep them standing about in the hallway.” Then he grinned at Trevor. “Do you know what the best part of being a duke is?”
    Trevor laughed. “I can think of a thousand things.”
    â€œWell, other than my lady wife, there is but one: excellent brandy. Would you care for a glass?”
    â€œWith pleasure,” he answered as the four of them crossed a pristine marble foyer to enter a lavish parlor. His Grace went directly to the sideboard, and as he poured from a crystal decanter, he glanced at her. “And for you, Miss Smithson?”
    â€œI should love a glass of brandy, if you please.”
    The duke’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but he didn’t say anything. Which left it to Trevor to enlighten her.
    â€œAs a general rule,” he said in an undertone, “ladies find brandy too strong.”
    â€œOh,” she whispered back. But she’d always drunk brandy. It was one of her favorite… Well, no matter, she was in society now. “I’m sorry. I suppose I meant…um…”
    â€œSherry for her, please,” Trevor finished.
    The duke was just turning around with a glass of brandy when his duchess lifted it from his hand. “Let her drink what she wants.” She pressed the snifter into Mellie’s hand. “You’ll find we’re not the typical duke and duchess.”
    Mellie looked at her drink, unsure what to do now. “Is there a regular type?” she wondered aloud.
    â€œThat’s a question for Eleanor,” the duchess replied as her husband passed another brandy to Trevor. “She’s Radley’s cousin and takes great delight in correcting our misguided notions. But for now, you should eat and drink as you like in our home.”
    Mellie smiled, feeling her insides ease a little. The duke and his duchess were of a warm sort. They smiled often—usually at each other—and took pains to set her at ease. She hoped that she wouldn’t muck things up so badly.
    Meanwhile, the duke had leaned back against the sideboard, his brandy glass held out to Trevor. “À votre santé,” he said gravely.
    Trevor raised his own glass in salute. “To your health as well.”
    The duke flashed a broad grin at his wife who groaned. “Yes, yes, you said it right. But it loses its effect if you grin like that.” She settled on the settee next to Mellie. “He just learned that phrase from Eleanor and thinks he’s the cat’s cream whenever he says it.”
    His Grace chuckled. “It’s French, you know. Never had the chance to learn the Frog’s lingo. And I refuse to even try Latin or Greek. But I’ve got Spanish well enough, plus a smattering of Egyptian and Arabic. I’m not bad as languages go, but I knew a ship’s mate who only had to hear something once before he could spit it back like a native. Terrible navigator though, and that more than anything hurt his chances aboard ship.”
    Mellie