thing.”
Ginny choked on her chocolate. So that was where she had been all night, in Petruchio’s country house. Only the master of this house was a dark, blue-eyed devil who had no business laughing in her dreams.
“Are you all right, miss? You look kind of queer, like.” Maren felt the pot on the stand by Ginny’s bed. “The water t’ain’t too hot, is it?”
“No, Maren, it’s perfect. Please see to it that my blue dimity gown is put out” She wanted to be sure she looked as young and fresh as springtime. She’d much rather comparisons be drawn between her and the new day than with Petruchio’s jaded bride.
Ginny entered the breakfast room just as Sir Anthony was regaling its occupants with some anecdote or other, one most likely something having to do with last night if the guilt in his eyes when they met hers was any indication. It was difficult to determine the case, however, as he snapped his mouth shut upon her arrival.
Indeed, Lord Avery, the squire, and his wife glanced apprehensively at her when she greeted them. All except for Lucinda, who, chin in her hands and eyes sparkling, was staring at Sir Anthony with a devastated look in her eyes. “Do go on, Thur Anthony,” she cooed. “Your story is ever so funny!”
Ginny added her own protestations. “Oh, yes, do finish your story. It would seem that it was vastly amusing. Wouldn’t you say so, Lord Avery?” But it was Sir Anthony she stole a glance at from the corner of her eye. She was gratified by the deep flush that suffused his face from his collar right up to the nasty bruise on his forehead.
“Oh, yes, vastly amusing,” Lord Avery echoed. “But pray, how are you this morning, Miss Delacourt? The last we saw of you, you were in flight like the Goddess Daphne ere she was turned into a tree”
It was a comparison Ginny had not anticipated, though it was more favorable than the others she had endured of late. Unfortunately, it defied response. Taking a deep breath, she turned again to Sir Anthony. “Pray, sir, do not refrain from your tale on my account. I shall just go to the sideboard and fill my plate”
“Wonderful idea,” the squire announced. “The morning is a wonderful time, yes, a wonderful time to breakfast. Always have maintained it was so, haven’t I, wife?”
“Yes, dear,” that good woman replied. Ginny had it as a fact that Mrs. Barrington rarely took breakfast before noon. However, it seemed the presence of two eligible bachelors did wonders for her appetite. Funny, it served the opposite function for Ginny.
She returned to the table with very little more on her plate than when she took it from the sideboard, an occurrence that prompted Sir Anthony to part lips and make utterance for the first time since Ginny entered the room.
“Why, Miss Delacourt, may I persuade you to have a coddled egg or two with that slice of toast? You will need more sustenance than that will afford if you plan to make a habit of sitting up half the night reading.”
“For your information, Sir Anthony, I did not do any reading last night. I choose to spend my nocturnal hours sleeping.” At least when she was able. “I believe I heard you wandering about last night in the hall, however.” And on the stairs, right out the front door to the stables.
Sir Anthony had the grace to look a trifle discomfited. “Yes, I had an intolerable headache and thought I would go down to the library to find something to read as well”
As this communication sent the entire company into whoops, Ginny felt it best to forsake her breakfast. She didn’t really want it after having been so mortified. It was clear Sir Anthony had been humiliating her with the tale of how she had come to be in his room, the story no doubt riddled with liberal commentary on her manners, morals, and jolly good aim.
She retired to one of the trio of small sitting rooms, all of which were decorated in shades of rose. The mauve room was nearest at hand and most
Ginny choked on her chocolate. So that was where she had been all night, in Petruchio’s country house. Only the master of this house was a dark, blue-eyed devil who had no business laughing in her dreams.
“Are you all right, miss? You look kind of queer, like.” Maren felt the pot on the stand by Ginny’s bed. “The water t’ain’t too hot, is it?”
“No, Maren, it’s perfect. Please see to it that my blue dimity gown is put out” She wanted to be sure she looked as young and fresh as springtime. She’d much rather comparisons be drawn between her and the new day than with Petruchio’s jaded bride.
Ginny entered the breakfast room just as Sir Anthony was regaling its occupants with some anecdote or other, one most likely something having to do with last night if the guilt in his eyes when they met hers was any indication. It was difficult to determine the case, however, as he snapped his mouth shut upon her arrival.
Indeed, Lord Avery, the squire, and his wife glanced apprehensively at her when she greeted them. All except for Lucinda, who, chin in her hands and eyes sparkling, was staring at Sir Anthony with a devastated look in her eyes. “Do go on, Thur Anthony,” she cooed. “Your story is ever so funny!”
Ginny added her own protestations. “Oh, yes, do finish your story. It would seem that it was vastly amusing. Wouldn’t you say so, Lord Avery?” But it was Sir Anthony she stole a glance at from the corner of her eye. She was gratified by the deep flush that suffused his face from his collar right up to the nasty bruise on his forehead.
“Oh, yes, vastly amusing,” Lord Avery echoed. “But pray, how are you this morning, Miss Delacourt? The last we saw of you, you were in flight like the Goddess Daphne ere she was turned into a tree”
It was a comparison Ginny had not anticipated, though it was more favorable than the others she had endured of late. Unfortunately, it defied response. Taking a deep breath, she turned again to Sir Anthony. “Pray, sir, do not refrain from your tale on my account. I shall just go to the sideboard and fill my plate”
“Wonderful idea,” the squire announced. “The morning is a wonderful time, yes, a wonderful time to breakfast. Always have maintained it was so, haven’t I, wife?”
“Yes, dear,” that good woman replied. Ginny had it as a fact that Mrs. Barrington rarely took breakfast before noon. However, it seemed the presence of two eligible bachelors did wonders for her appetite. Funny, it served the opposite function for Ginny.
She returned to the table with very little more on her plate than when she took it from the sideboard, an occurrence that prompted Sir Anthony to part lips and make utterance for the first time since Ginny entered the room.
“Why, Miss Delacourt, may I persuade you to have a coddled egg or two with that slice of toast? You will need more sustenance than that will afford if you plan to make a habit of sitting up half the night reading.”
“For your information, Sir Anthony, I did not do any reading last night. I choose to spend my nocturnal hours sleeping.” At least when she was able. “I believe I heard you wandering about last night in the hall, however.” And on the stairs, right out the front door to the stables.
Sir Anthony had the grace to look a trifle discomfited. “Yes, I had an intolerable headache and thought I would go down to the library to find something to read as well”
As this communication sent the entire company into whoops, Ginny felt it best to forsake her breakfast. She didn’t really want it after having been so mortified. It was clear Sir Anthony had been humiliating her with the tale of how she had come to be in his room, the story no doubt riddled with liberal commentary on her manners, morals, and jolly good aim.
She retired to one of the trio of small sitting rooms, all of which were decorated in shades of rose. The mauve room was nearest at hand and most
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