Page 16 of How to Ruin a Duke
For the rest of the day, Rowena was conscious of her hands as she worked.
Simon Thorn had kissed her hands, had made them—madeher—feel not only necessary and right, but beautiful.
No one had appreciated her hands before, not even herself, save in the most impatient sort of way.She’d had admirers, even a lover she’d expected to wed, but her imperfect right hand was in the end too much for the man to overlook.
Well, not only her hand.Her honest speech.Her hard-won skill.Her determination to run Fairweather’s, at the time alongside her father.So be it.She’d rather be alone than be expected to change who she was.
But being admired exactly as she was?How heady.How lovely.
As she coaxed the strings from the tailpiece of the battered old violin that would become the shop-window display, she looked again at her hands.The left, with the long span of the fingers, with neat nails and calluses.The right hand, with its strong thumb and truncated fingers, its slivers of nails.
They weren’t a matched set, but they were both capable.These were hands that could build.They were, indeed, beautiful.Simon Thorn reminded her to admire her own abilities by gently, sweetly, admiring her himself.
The whole gesture felt not like a seduction, but like an appreciation—and that was seductive indeed.There had not been enough air in the room when Rowena remembered to draw back her hands, lightheaded and buoyant.
Maybe Simon Thorn was seducing her, after all.
She wished he would.If he did, she’d allow it.
Maybe she’d even hurry the process along.
The next daywas gray and mizzling, the sort that inspired Rowena to plunge deeply into work.The sort that brought the beetles out of their hiding places, delighting Cotton.The hedgehog was in an ecstasy of gluttony, padding around on her little clawed feet and nosing into tiny spaces to find and crunch down her favorite food.
“Better you than me,” Rowena told her pet.“And thank you.”
She spoke cheerfully, yet today seemed a bit lonely.Nanny’s knees hurt her, and she didn’t venture down to the workshop to keep company with Rowena.When Edith peeked into the workshop as morning drew on, Rowena could have hugged her friend in gratitude.
“Have you finished readingHow to Ruin a Duke?”Edith said by way of greeting.“No one talks of anything else, and I’ll perish of curiosity if I don’t get my hands on our library copy.”
Rowena laughed, and now she did allow herself a quick embrace before she directed Edith to her friend’s usual perch on the end of the worktable.“I’ll get a chair in here eventually,” she promised, not for the first time.
Edith was in truthLadyEdith Charbonneau, an earl’s daughter.Had her father not died deeply in debt and without an heir, Edith’s life would have proceeded in a far loftier realm than Rowena’s.But it hadn’t.After being orphaned as a young adult, left to care for her teenage step-brother, Edith had taken a post as a lady’s companion to the Duchess of Emory—the present duke’s mother.Edith and Rowena had been permitted to occupy the same space between gentility and those who earned their bread, and therein they made friends.
After two years of seeming domestic tranquility, Edith had left her post abruptly some five months before.She told Rowena she was pleased to have more time to work on a manuscript of domestic advice, which once sold, would secure the financial future of both Edith and the step-brother, Foster, for whom she served as guardian.
This wasn’t an explanation of why, or what had happened.But Edith didn’t share explanations easily.She was a Gunter’s ice in person: elegant, beautifully constructed, cool, sweet.She was also so verymuchthat she sometimes made Rowena feel quite medium.She was very tall, very pretty, very well-mannered, very vigorous, very intelligent—and very independent.She’d been very fashionable as well, though in recent months, the threat of penury had led her to sell whatever could be sold.She now wore an unfashionable pink cloak over a gown stripped of all ornament—yet not even this could chip at her dignity.
She was also very kind, which made her a most excellent friend, and she understood how quickly fortunes could fall and privilege could be destroyed.
So Rowena wouldn’t pry into her friend’s reasons for leaving what seemed to be a good post.She could merely accept what Edith told her, offer a listening ear and a stack of novels, and carry on with her work.
“Working, working,” Edith commiserated.“How busy you keep.Have you had any news from your landlord?”
“None that’s good.”Briefly, Rowena explained her plans with Simon Thorn to increase income and better advertise the shop.“I’ll reap great rewards in a few months, maybe even a few weeks.But it might not be soon enough.”She hated to think about that, so she hadn’t been—but ignoring the problem over time had only made it more urgent.
Edith poured out a cup from the teapot Alice had left in the workshop that morning, adding milk and sugar to her tea.When she spooned in yet more sugar, Rowena wakened to the awareness of other problems beside her own.Had her friend eaten that day?Edith was looking thin, and it would be just like her to give her own breakfast to Foster.
So Rowena made up an excuse.“I’m hungry.Will you join me in a scone?Cook made some yesterday, and they’ll be dense as rocks if we don’t finish them today.”
“You eat while you’re working?”
Rowena set aside the tools she’d been using to pry apart the unfortunate violin for the shop window.“I can pause for a few minutes.”She rang for Alice and ordered a tray.
As she spoke, she noticed that Edith drank deeply of her tea, wincing at the heat even as her eyes closed in relief.When Alice departed, Edith smiled.“Thoughtful of you, Rowena.I’ll be delighted to share your prandial pleasures.”
“Prandial pleasures,” Rowena echoed with a laugh.“I’m hearing alliteration everywhere.This is what comes from readingHow to Ruin a Duke.”
“I wouldn’t know, since you won’t relinquish it,” Edith said crisply.
