Veronica. Nattie JonesЧитать онлайн книгу.
sweetness.
“Your Grace,” she said.
Lady Caroline did not play the game that way. She managed to flop beautifully in a chair. “It is cold outside and hot inside. We had to escape the fireplaces. My dear Duke, you are a poor host if you cannot make the sun come out.”
She complained with that fashionable air that made everyone agree, for fear of appearing unfashionable. The Duke made some witty reply, but I was staring with quite a bit of terror at Lady Caroline's hand, which was practically touching my diary.
I sat with a book in the corner as Jeanette joined me. I greeted her quietly, still fixated on Lady Caroline's hand.
“What is this?” she asked.
I started forward, then stopped myself when she opened it. My name was not in my diary, of that I was certain. She would not read it, would she?
Oh, she would. I knew she would. She would relish it.
My face burned. I was in the shadows, as plainly dressed as any lady's companion. For once I was grateful for my nearly invisible status. I kept my head bent over my book, praying the oncoming storm would not hit.
“It is scandalous!” Lady Caroline cried. Her face was the perfect picture of horror, but there was no hiding the delight in her eyes.
And then, as she read further, she blushed. “Why, Your Grace, I believe you have been given a hero's role in an erotic tale!”
“Have I?” he asked mildly, and I felt his gaze rest on me.
“You are punishing a naughty servant,” she said, “and then you—” She cut herself off with a gasp and held the book out to the Duke. “I cannot read on!”
Lady Bridget dared not look at me. She knew it was my diary: she'd seen me with it often. My disgrace would reflect on her, if only a little. I wondered if Jeanette would recognize it. I glanced her way, but when our gazes met, her expression did not accuse; she was as delighted by the new gossip as Lady Caroline.
His Grace pocketed the diary and smoothly changed the subject. The next hour was one of the longest of my life. Even when everyone left to change, my hands still trembled.
I breathed a sigh of relief when all had abandoned the library. Alone. Safe for the moment.
Then I heard boots on the floor.
“Miss Veronica Bridges?”
I was shocked he'd returned, knowing I was alone in the library. A deep breath steadied me. The repercussions of my carelessness would likely haunt me the rest of my life, but I could at least keep my dignity intact. I held my chin up and looked him right in the eye.
I curtsied. “Yes, Your Grace?”
I expected his eyes to be mocking, but they were merely curious. No compassion, no cruelty. Just curiosity.
“I believe this is yours.” He held the book to me, and I found I could neither take it nor deny his claim. I could not look above his chest. I could not even tear my gaze from the offered diary.
Was he being polite? Kind? Or was he setting me up? Searching for proof of my indiscretion so he could advertise it?
I mumbled the appropriate words of leave-taking, then ran to my room.
I sat in my room, waiting for Lady Bridget to dismiss me. She would, almost certainly. I wondered if perhaps I should write her a note, or if I should wait for her to address the issue.
I packed my things and wondered where I would go. To my sister in Devonshire, I supposed. Her husband was clergy in a small parish; I would be a burden and a strain, at least until I could arrange for a new position. Perhaps Lady Bridget would stay silent on the reasons for my dismissal.
The knock came, brisk and harsh.
I took a deep breath and steadied myself before opening the door. Instead of Lady Bridget, the Duke stood there. He'd changed outfits, and he held my diary instead of his riding crop.
I curtsied. “Your Grace.”
The Duke walked right in. My eyes widened so hard I thought they would pop. I stared, astonished. I was torn between shutting the door to prevent anyone from seeing and keeping the door open so I was not alone with a man.
“Shut the door, Miss Veronica Bridges.”
“You would make matters worse for me!” I cried. I started to run from the room, but he pushed the door shut.
“Your Grace!” I whispered.
“Relax. You have no more reputation to lose.”
He dropped my diary on my bed. “Is this yours?”
I didn't answer, for surely he already knew the answer. Hands shaking, I picked it up and packed it inside my bag. I felt so awkward, like my bottom was really big. Had he read of my fantasies? Was he even now studying my bottom, thinking of the punishment I had written about?
“Do you have somewhere to go?”
“I have a sister in the country.” Married to a poor clergyman, but I didn't say that out loud.
He nodded curtly. He walked to the window and stared out over his grounds. He gave a sudden bark of laughter and turned to me.
“Marry me, then.”
“Are you mad with fever?” I asked in curious seriousness. He stood, eyes blazing with something, one arm hanging at his side. His eyes narrowed at my question.
“You would not turn me down.”
“Then why ask me at all?” I did not consider he would be serious in the matter, so I busied my hands by pretending to rearrange my packing.
He frowned. “Miss Veronica Bridges.”
“You would only ask me to marry you in jest. Or some prank. Have I not provided enough amusement for your guests?”
He seemed amused at my answer. “I assure you, Miss Bridges, I am entirely in earnest.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps you have seduced me.”
“If I had seduced you, you would make a mistress of me, not marry me.” I realized, at that moment, that being a mistress of a gentleman would be a better life than what I could expect. To be true, I would rather be a servant than become an idle, poor relation to be a burden on my sister's husband.
“How old are you?” he asked.
I blushed. “Twenty-five.”
“I will contact the Bishop for a license. No banns need be read. In three weeks, a month at most, we can be married.”
“You are not amusing,” I said.
“There is no impediment, and none of my family would dare object to my wishes.”
“Why would you wish it? You are foolish,” I said. “You will choose either Lady Caroline or Lady Bridget. Everyone knows it.”
“Do they?” he asked.
“Lady Caroline would be a good match in every way, but no one would fault you for choosing Lady Bridget. She has a far smaller inheritance, but you are not wanting for money and she is known as a sweet beauty.”
He laughed. “'Known as?' As in not 'is?'”
I flushed.
“Lady Caroline also comes with a shrewish tongue, and Lady Bridget is not as sweet as she would pretend.” His expression was hidden in the shadows of the room. “I have chosen you.”
He stepped in front of me so we were toe to toe, but due to his greater height, he towered over me. I could stare at the white fabric buttons on his shirt or I could tilt my head back and meet