Page 35 of Three Weeks with a Princess
Lia’s mother threw her a triumphant glance. “I entirely concur, my lord. Lia would be much more comfortable set up quietly in the country. It would be more private that way, too.”
Jack peered at Mama for a moment, but then his features transformed into a horrified understanding.
Lia pulled in a deep breath, fighting the anger that was sucking the air from her lungs. She couldn’t decide which of them she’d rather murder first.
“Lord Lendale’s intent is not what you think, Mama. He simply wants me to return home to live with Granny. In genteel poverty, I have no doubt,” she couldn’t help adding sarcastically. “His finances are a complete disaster. I’d probably end up in a hovel if he somehowdidbecome my protector.”
“There’s no need to be rude about it,” Jack said.
“You’re much ruder than I am,” Lia said. As a retort it was exceedingly lacking, but her head felt like it was about to explode from a combination of humiliation and fury.
Mama cast Jack a doubtful glance. “He doesn’t look like his pockets are let. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Jack drew himself up and gazed at Mama with masculine dignity. “I am indeed well able to take care of Lia and her grandmother. As one helps members of one’s family.”
Lia waved a disdainful hand. “You can’t. Not with Stonefell in such a horrible mess.”
Her mother crinkled her nose. “How very dreary. Your grandmother had such high hopes for his lordship. Oh, well, we’ll just carry on until something more fortuitous presents itself.”
Jack blinked several times, as if he were trying to reset something that had gone awry in his brain. “She will do nothing of the sort,” he finally said. “Lia will be returning to Yorkshire immediately.”
As embarrassed as Lia was by her mother’s nakedly avaricious behavior, Jack’s high-handed manner seemed worse.
“Shewill do nothing of the sort,” Lia snapped, echoing him. “I am not going back to Yorkshire with you, Jack Easton. And the sooner you get that through your thickheaded skull, the better.”
She pushed past him and stalked from the room.
Chapter Eight
“Jack, I don’t know why you made us sneak up that dingy back stairway instead of going through the lobby,” commented the Duchess of Leverton. “That’s hardly an exciting way to start the evening.”
“I thought you enjoyed sneaking up dingy stairways and along gloomy corridors,” Jack said as he handed Gillian to her seat. “Especially in pursuit of bloodthirsty brigands.”
Charles rolled his eyes before addressing his wife. “Gillian, it’s not a dingy back stairway. It’s aprivatestairway for patrons who’ve reserved aprivatebox. That way we can reach our seats without jostling our way through crowds in a lobby full of pickpockets and other disreputable sorts.”
“A private stairway for the snobs, you mean,” said the duchess. “God forbid the aristocracy should ever mingle with ordinary folk.”
Jack cast a glance over the rail of their box to the pit below. “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that. There will be plenty of mingling between the gentlemen of the Ton and the ordinary folk before the night is out.”
“Ah, you mean they will soon be availing themselves of the company of the ladybirds who frequent the pit and galleries.” Gillian stood to peer over the rail, leaning out to take a good look. “I must say it does look like quite a lot of fun down there.”
Charles reached out and snagged the velvet sash around her waist. “Please sit down, my dear, before you fall out and land on some poor fellow’s head.”
Gillian subsided into her seat, scoffing at her husband’s request. “As if I would ever be so clumsy. You just don’t want me making a spectacle of myself and you know it.”
“I do apologize for being so tiresome,” he said in a regretful tone. “But if you make a spectacle of yourself, no one will watch the evening’s entertainment. You’re much more interesting and prettier than any of the actresses performing tonight.”
Her sherry-colored eyes danced with laughter. “Well done, Charles, turning a scold into a compliment. Then again, you are the most polished man in London.”
“I try, but you do present a challenge, even for my vaunted skills,” her husband said dryly.
“Wretch,” his wife replied. “I intend to ignore you for the rest of the evening.”
That was unlikely; Charles and Gillian couldn’t go five minutes without making sheep’s eyes at each other or slipping off to a corner for a stolen kiss. In society’s view, their recent marriage was scandalous and the gossip surrounding them had yet to die down, but anyone with sense could see they were madly in love and surprisingly well-matched. He gentled her fire and tempered her brash behavior, while she brought a joy and spontaneity to his life.
As if to make good on her word, Gillian gave her husband a shoulder and turned her attention to Jack.
“I’m sure Charles is wrong about me being prettier than all the women in the acting company,” she said. “I’ve heard Mrs. Lester is a great beauty and I have no doubt my cousin is very pretty if she intends to have a career on the stage.”
