Page 18 of A Duke for Diana
“Well, you needn’t worry about me insulting them tomorrow,” he said. “I plan to make myself scarce. You wouldn’t want me around anyway.”
“We certainly wouldn’t,” Rosy said. “You have no taste at all when it comes to fashion.”
Et tu, Brute?Geoffrey thought, though he didn’t bother to say it. He had a fondness for Shakespeare that his mother and sister didn’t share. It had actually been the one thing he and Father enjoyed together.
The thought of Father reminded him why he was here in London in the first place—to make sure Rosy and his mother wouldn’t have to endure the sort of vile gossip the Harper sisters had. To see them settled in a good situation in case the worst happened and Father’s secret was revealed.
Yes, he would definitely stay out of this début nonsense to the greatest extent possible. Because if he got involved in it, he might soon find himself mired in a different kind of rumor and speculation. One in which he became besotted with a certain voluptuous vixen.
Andthathe could not tolerate.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Diana sat at the dining room table and spread her usual piece of toast liberally with butter, then poured herself a cup of tea. Verity was still filling her plate and Eliza was probably still asleep, as usual.
When Verity approached to sit down, she gaped at Diana. “That’s all you’re eating? We have a long day ahead of us, so it would be wise to prepare.”
“You appear to be preparing for Napoleon’s army,” Diana said, with a nod to Verity’s plate, piled high with tartlets, Westphalia cakes, various combinations of fruit on skewers, marzipan figures, ham slices carved in the shape of pigs, and turkey slices carved in the shape of turkeys.
Her sister poured herself some coffee and added cream. “I am, in a way. These are the items I mean to suggest for Rosy’s ball.”
“Lady Rosabel,” Diana corrected her.
“Right. And I will call her that when she’s around.”
“You will call her that everywhere, so you don’t slip up and call her the wrong thing in front of anyone important.”
“My dear sister,” Verity said with a sniff, “I can see that after yesterday’s contretemps with the duke, you are flexing your dictatorial muscles. But aside from the fact that I’m only a year younger than you, I am also an important part of this business concern and you are not in charge, whatever you may think. If anyone should be in charge, it’s Eliza. It’s her house and she’s the oldest. But we agreed a long time ago that we all have a stake in decisions.”
“You’re right.” Diana stirred some honey into her tea. “Forgive me if I’m being . . . bossy. I’m just a bit out of sorts this morning. I didn’t sleep well last night. I had disturbing dreams.”
“I would wonder if you’d dreamed about the duke, but I doubt you would call dreams likethatdisturbing.”
“No, indeed.” Dianahaddreamed about the duke, but not in the way Verity probably imagined. She’d dreamed of him nude. She hadneverdreamed of a man nude before. And that wasn’t even the disturbing part! That had come when he’d put his hands on her, kissed her, and touched her all over . . . and she’d liked it. She’d awakened to find herself rubbing her breast with one hand and between her legs with the other. How shocking!
Lord help her. Was this how it had happened for Mother? Was Diana destined to be a wanton, too?
“In any case,” Verity said, “you needn’t be so stuffy about what we callLady Rosabel. She doesn’t care about all that. She does, however, care about the food at her ball. Which is why I’m eating this peculiar breakfast. I wanted to see how the items hold up if done by Eliza’s half-decent cook and eaten in the hours of the morning after one has risen.”
Diana laughed. “You’re already planning the ball supper dishes? This is a new height of care indeed.”
“Actually, the idea occurred to me during the last ball supper we took charge of. The cost of hiring that expensive chef would have bankrupted us if the client had not agreed to pay that expense. Eliza’s cook isn’t bad, so why not use her?”
“Let me guess,” Diana said archly. “Lady Rosabel cautioned you not to spend too much of her brother’s money.”
“Well, yes. I couldn’t figure out, however, if he’s just a pinchpenny or if they are actually cleaned out.”
“I suspect neither. Grenwood merely dislikes high society, so he resents wasting extravagant amounts on his sister’s début.”
“But he’s a duke.” Verity bit into what looked like a marzipan swan.
“I said the same thing to him. It didn’t faze him. Apparently, he inherited a number of debts along with the properties.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. From what I heard about the previous duke, he wasn’t careful with money.”
“Exactly.” Diana got up to fetch a second slice of toast.
“Do you want one of these cheddar tartlets?” Verity asked. “They turned out rather well.”
