Page 2 of Shining Knight
Chapter One
Autumn 1813
Eugenia groaned asshe tried to keep her attention on the news-sheet in front of her. She was not feeling quite the thing after consuming a wee bit too much champagne—and perhaps other unknown beverages—at her best friend’s wedding breakfast. To be precise, her only friend.
“That is a horrid likeness,” Eugenia muttered to herself in the dining room which was quiet and empty now that Sybil had married. Aunt Hambridge always took a tray in her room.
Eugenia forced down a bite of toast to quell her stomach; it threatened to erupt at any moment as the drawing of herself tripping over Sybil’s veil mocked her. Sybil had not been looking at her in horror, nor had Lord Darling stared at her thus disdainfully. They had been all solicitousness for her safety. Really, she was only clumsy when she danced…or drank champagne, apparently.
Indeed, the entire day had been most provoking. Eugenia did not know what she was going to do. The only reason she had survived thetonthus far without catastrophe was because of Lady Sybil being by her side. Well, and perhaps the small matters of her name and fortune.
Three of her brothers had married and now lived on opposite sides of England, while Felix was soldiering in Spain. Aunt Hambridge was no chaperone at all and Eugenia knew she would be bored out of her mind without Sybil to bear her company. To be sure, Graham would take her riding and driving on occasion, but what was she to do in between? She supposed she would have to grow accustomed to making calls with all of the dowagers and attending boring card parties. Why could she not make lady friends more easily? Now she had no one.
Everything was changing. Her world was collapsing beneath her feet. She snorted as she eyed her ungraceful caricature. Literally, it seemed.
She loved the adventures to be had in London, especially after all those years alone in Devonshire. If only London loved her more. At first, she had relished the excitement—dancing every night, new gowns, attention from gentlemen and ladies alike. Yet, frequently, she was the source of ridicule in the news-sheets. She could not understand why. She was not dashing or glamorous like her brothers or sisters-in-law.
She had attracted loads of attention and hordes of suitors, yes, but not the kind that came up to scratch. She put her head down on her arms on the table, in hope that the room would stop spinning.
“Not feeling too well, this morning, pet?”
Eugenia groaned again. “I did not hear you come in, Graham.”
“Of course not. You were too busy wallowing in self-pity and nursing your sore head,” he said cheerfully.
“Why are you here?” she snapped, her head still down on the table.
“I thought you might need some company after yesterday.”
There was one thing she and Graham had in common and that was the news-sheets’ seeming fascination with them. On the one hand, they lived for her mistakes and never missed one, while on the other, he was their darling. Perhaps racing her brother’s curricle had not been the wisest choice, but climbing the tree to save a kitten had been necessary. Graham was always portrayed in a good light. She would wager half her dowry that the person drawing the caricatures was a female. There she went again, she reflected, being unladylike and gambling even in her thoughts.
“Why the sour face, Genie?”
She lifted a one-eyed gaze enough to scowl at him. Winfred, the old butler, entered the room and handed a glass to Graham, which he then proceeded to shove under her nose.
“Drink this. Trust me, it will help.”
“What is it?” she asked as she eyed it distastefully.
“Do not ask, just drink it. It will help your impaired head.”
“Ladies do not get foxed,” she muttered, as yet another thing to add to her list of unladylike sins.
“Pinch your nose and down it,” he advised.
She did as he said, then gasped at the horror of the taste and burn as the potion went down her throat.
“Now, eat some eggs and bacon and you will be as right as rain in no time,” he said as he placed a plate in front of her.
Of one thing she was fairly certain, and that was that what she just drunk was likely to reappear at any moment.
“Eat up, we must not keep the horses waiting,” he urged.
“You expect me to ride this morning?”
“We ride every morning, Genie.”
“I suppose we do,” she acknowledged, after taking a mouthful of coddled eggs. She had not thought he would continue doing so after Sybil was wed, but she was grateful for the company. She managed to swallow down the breakfast and, surprisingly, felt better.
