I’ll be off,” Georgiana said. But she paused and shot Olivia a look.
Olivia obediently turned back to her maid. “Before you go, Norah, did you hear any gossip below-stairs about Althea? What’s she like?”
“Cleese isn’t one to allow prattle, as he calls it. But Lady Althea’s maid did say a bit about her mistress.” Norah paused. “Though of course I shouldn’t repeat tittle-tattle, given that Agnès seems a dreadfully critical woman.”
“Norah!” Olivia said. “Don’t be a noodle!”
Norah relented. “Agnès allowed as how her mistress was more giddy than a hen in the rain.”
“How on earth does rain affect chickens?” Georgiana asked, looking perplexed.
“They drown, Miss Georgiana,” Norah explained. “They turn their beaks up to see the sky, and then they drink too much water, and then they fall over. A whole flock of them can go that way, just like dominos going down in a row.”
“I think you can safely interpret that to mean that Althea Henwitty isn’t going to beat you in the category of raw intelligence,” Olivia said, with some satisfaction.
Norah gave a little snort of appreciation.
“I must not keep Florence waiting,” Georgiana said with a stiff little smile. “Thank you, Norah, for . . . for . . .”
“For snitching on the enemy,” Olivia put in.
Georgiana whisked out the door before having to agree to something so antithetical to her sense of propriety.
Norah looked after her. “Miss Georgiana is just perfect for the duke; that’s what everyone is saying below-stairs. He’s as smart as a whip, they say, but terribly lofty. Not as much as his mother, who takes the prize, but a gentleman who never forgets who he is, if you see what I mean.”
Sometimes he forgets, Olivia thought to herself. That was no duke who grabbed her in the silver room last night.
“His mother, the dowager, is even worse,” Norah continued. “They all warned me that if I see her in the corridor, I should drop a curtsy, then put my back to the wall and look at the floor. If she deigns to speak to me, I should drop another curtsy before I dare to look up.”
Olivia snorted, but thought it best not to comment. “Just look how excited Lucy is to see you.”
Norah reached down and pulled Lucy’s long ears. “She is ugly, but there’s something very taking about her all the same.”
“Do you think she’s trying to tell you something with all that hand licking?” Olivia asked.
“She can smell bacon on my hands. I helped clear the breakfast dishes.”
“Still, you’d better take her out before she piddles on the carpet.”
“Her Grace doesn’t like animals at all,” Norah said, moving reluctantly toward the door. “The dowager, I mean. Apparently the shape of paws makes her almost faint. Isn’t that odd? If she even sees an animal running along on its paws, she goes all queer-like.”
“Very odd,” Olivia agreed.
“And did you hear about the duke’s first wife?” Norah said, lingering by the door.
“I knew of her existence, of course, but you’ll have to tell me any details later. The last thing I want is to have to explain to the housekeeper why my bedchamber has an unfortunate smell.”
“She was no better than a trollop,” Norah stated.
“No!” It didn’t suit Olivia’s image of the duke to think of him married to a hussy.
“Terrible! A very glad eye, if you see what I mean, miss. Very glad indeed. Always out with the carriage, hither and yon, and taking no more than a groom with her.”
“That’s dreadful,” Olivia said, thinking of the duke’s closed face. No wonder he had such a bleak look about him.
“Dreadful is the word,” Norah said with emphasis. “And—”
But at that moment Lucy lost patience and piddled on the floor.
And that was the end of that particular conversation.
Nine
Introducing Lord Justin Fiebvre
A s Quin allowed his valet to dress him that morning, he was happily aware that whatever madness had possessed him the
Olivia obediently turned back to her maid. “Before you go, Norah, did you hear any gossip below-stairs about Althea? What’s she like?”
“Cleese isn’t one to allow prattle, as he calls it. But Lady Althea’s maid did say a bit about her mistress.” Norah paused. “Though of course I shouldn’t repeat tittle-tattle, given that Agnès seems a dreadfully critical woman.”
“Norah!” Olivia said. “Don’t be a noodle!”
Norah relented. “Agnès allowed as how her mistress was more giddy than a hen in the rain.”
“How on earth does rain affect chickens?” Georgiana asked, looking perplexed.
“They drown, Miss Georgiana,” Norah explained. “They turn their beaks up to see the sky, and then they drink too much water, and then they fall over. A whole flock of them can go that way, just like dominos going down in a row.”
“I think you can safely interpret that to mean that Althea Henwitty isn’t going to beat you in the category of raw intelligence,” Olivia said, with some satisfaction.
Norah gave a little snort of appreciation.
“I must not keep Florence waiting,” Georgiana said with a stiff little smile. “Thank you, Norah, for . . . for . . .”
“For snitching on the enemy,” Olivia put in.
Georgiana whisked out the door before having to agree to something so antithetical to her sense of propriety.
Norah looked after her. “Miss Georgiana is just perfect for the duke; that’s what everyone is saying below-stairs. He’s as smart as a whip, they say, but terribly lofty. Not as much as his mother, who takes the prize, but a gentleman who never forgets who he is, if you see what I mean.”
Sometimes he forgets, Olivia thought to herself. That was no duke who grabbed her in the silver room last night.
“His mother, the dowager, is even worse,” Norah continued. “They all warned me that if I see her in the corridor, I should drop a curtsy, then put my back to the wall and look at the floor. If she deigns to speak to me, I should drop another curtsy before I dare to look up.”
Olivia snorted, but thought it best not to comment. “Just look how excited Lucy is to see you.”
Norah reached down and pulled Lucy’s long ears. “She is ugly, but there’s something very taking about her all the same.”
“Do you think she’s trying to tell you something with all that hand licking?” Olivia asked.
“She can smell bacon on my hands. I helped clear the breakfast dishes.”
“Still, you’d better take her out before she piddles on the carpet.”
“Her Grace doesn’t like animals at all,” Norah said, moving reluctantly toward the door. “The dowager, I mean. Apparently the shape of paws makes her almost faint. Isn’t that odd? If she even sees an animal running along on its paws, she goes all queer-like.”
“Very odd,” Olivia agreed.
“And did you hear about the duke’s first wife?” Norah said, lingering by the door.
“I knew of her existence, of course, but you’ll have to tell me any details later. The last thing I want is to have to explain to the housekeeper why my bedchamber has an unfortunate smell.”
“She was no better than a trollop,” Norah stated.
“No!” It didn’t suit Olivia’s image of the duke to think of him married to a hussy.
“Terrible! A very glad eye, if you see what I mean, miss. Very glad indeed. Always out with the carriage, hither and yon, and taking no more than a groom with her.”
“That’s dreadful,” Olivia said, thinking of the duke’s closed face. No wonder he had such a bleak look about him.
“Dreadful is the word,” Norah said with emphasis. “And—”
But at that moment Lucy lost patience and piddled on the floor.
And that was the end of that particular conversation.
Nine
Introducing Lord Justin Fiebvre
A s Quin allowed his valet to dress him that morning, he was happily aware that whatever madness had possessed him the
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