Page 45 of How to Ruin a Duke
“Well, you are peaked,” Emory observed.“You look like you’ve lost flesh since leaving my employment.”
“Your mother’s employment.”All of Edith’s dresses were looser, as were her boots.
“Are we in a footrace, my lady?I am compelled to say this is not the sort of neighborhood I’d expect you to frequent.”
The neighborhood was respectable.Five streets on, it would become shabby.“Nothing compels you to say any such thing, Your Grace.You toss that barb at me out of a mean-spiritedness I do not deserve and would not have attributed to you previously.I know I left your mother’s employ—”
“My employ.”
“—without much notice, but I had my reasons.If you would please take yourself off, I would be much obliged.”
She marched on with as much speed as dignity allowed, though Emory remained at her side.Perhaps that was providential—she was overdue for some kindness from providence—because before she’d gone six steps, her vision wavered, her boot caught on an up-thrust brick, and she was again pitched hard against the duke.
Chapter Two
“His Grace lacks the two essential qualities of a gentleman about Town—wit, and a tailor with an imagination.”
FromHow to Ruin a Dukeby Anonymous
For a woman who could spew three hundred pages of unrelenting calumny, Lady Edith felt like eiderdown in Thaddeus’s arms.When he’d first collided with her outside the publisher’s offices, she had nearly bounced off of him like one of those lap dogs that doubles its perceived dimensions with an abundance of hair and yapping.
She was too slight for the pink atrocity of a cloak she wore, and she did look pale and tired.Success as a satirist was apparently a taxing business.
“Is this a ploy?”he asked her, a hand under her pointy elbow.“Are you attempting to extort my sympathy by feigning weakness?”
Furious blue eyes glared up at him.“I am not weak, I am famished.I have not eaten since the day before yesterday.I wanted cab fare for my appointment with Mr.Ventnor in case it rained.A woman resembling a drowned rat hardly inspires confidence in a prospective employer.”
Not a drowned rat, but a cornered cat.One who hadn’t seen regular meals or a warm fireplace in some time.How to Ruin a Dukewas rumored to be in its fifth printing.Lady Edith’s appearance and the success of the book were facts in contradiction.
Thaddeus was constitutionally incapable of ignoring facts in contradiction.
“Perhaps a meal will improve your manners,” he said, guiding her several doors down the street.The neighborhood was going seedy about the edges, but the inn looked respectable enough.
“I cannot be seen to sit down to a meal with you in public.”The edge of ire had left her speech.She was reciting a rule rather than scolding him.
Her scolds had been impressive, considering she’d presumed to scold a duke who could ruin her.
“You march around London,” he said, “like a supervisor of the watch.You neglect adequate nutrition.You insult a peer of the realm without batting an eye.You can share a trencher with me at an obscure establishment such as this.The pubs and inns always have the best food, and as it happens, I am hungry as well.”
She closed her eyes, doubtless marshalling some sham of martyrdom.
“My objective was to seek you out today,” Thaddeus went on.“I was surprised to find you at Ventnor’s, because he is not your publisher.I thought perhaps he could send me in the right direction though.Instead I find my quarry landing almost literally at my feet.This has put me in a better humor.”
She opened her eyes.“One shudders to think what your version of a poor humor is.I will eat with you, for two reasons.Firstly, because I need food.Secondly, because I suspect you will not leave me in peace until you’ve aired whatever daft notions have resulted in your pestering me with your presence.”
Clever alliteration had been a signal characteristic of the prose inHow to Ruin a Duke.
Thaddeus held the door for her.“I will leave you in peace—on this occasion—if you will share a meal with me.”
She swept past him, as dignified as the queen mother, into the gloom of the common.Her pink cloak caused some stares, or perhaps Emory’s height and attire were gaining the notice of the patrons.The working classes were notably shorter than the aristocracy, and Emory was tall even among his peers.
Lady Edith was tall as well, something he’d liked about her.She wasn’t a wilting, vapid, fading little creature who could barely waft through a Beethoven slow movement before drifting to the garden for a nap in a hammock.Mama had been in a much better mood during Lady Edith’s tenure as a companion, and the entire ducal staff had been less prone to insurrections and feuds.
“You will have a steak,” Thaddeus said, choosing a table well away from the window and from any other patrons.“Steak is the best thing for restoring vigor.You will need your vigor if I’m to ruin you.”
She unpinned her bonnet, the millinery adorned with a tired collection of feathers and silk flowers.
“Will this be a literal ruination or figurative?Lord Jeremiah struck me as more the ruining kind.You, on the other hand,”—she perused him in a manner more frank than flattering—“you have the arrogance for true villainy, but your dignity wouldn’t allow it.Shrieking virgins, swoons, dramatics, I don’t think you have the patience for them.”
