Page 77 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
Thatcher had neglected to mention that a woman was also in the foyer. No doubt, the other half of the World’s Tiniest Bride and Groom. She was only a little shorter than the man fuming at her side, her hair black, her eyes brown. Her hopeful expression was quite the opposite of her husband’s belligerent one.
“I demand to see Harry.” Merrick was fairly frothing at the mouth. His wife merely rolled her eyes. Avendale immediately liked her immensely.
“Within my residence you’re not in a position to demand anything. I assume the giant brought you and is still here.”
Merrick looked as though he was on the verge of having an apoplectic fit.
“Yes,” the woman said. “Joseph brought us.” She took a tiny step forward. “You must understand that we’ve looked out for Harry for so long that we just want to see that he’s happy with his new surroundings.”
Even without her explanation, he had planned for his next sentence to be, “Would you care to join us for dinner?”
Books were set on chairs so the tiniest couple were elevated enough to reach the table comfortably. They sat on one side together, Harry and the giant on the other. Avendale had taken his place at the head of the table, while Rose sat opposite him. She seemed rather amused by their dinner guests, or perhaps he was the one who amused her. Because he’d been soft, because he hadn’t kicked the little man out.
On the other hand, he found the entourage quite entertaining. If Rose wouldn’t reveal her past, he was quite certain he could garner information from them. That had been his original plan, and yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to invade the privacy she clung to so tenaciously. Perhaps he shouldn’t even be reading her brother’s writings.
“Caw, wish I could cook like this,” Sally said as she enjoyed glazed partridge.
Avendale sipped on his wine. He was indulging more in drink than food. “I’m certain my cook will be happy to share her recipes.”
“That would be lovely.”
He tapped his glass. “I assume you don’t miss your life from before.”
“Wasn’t so bad,” Sally said, apparently more of a talker than the rest. “Merrick and I would just stand there while people had their fill. Much harder on poor Harry, because he was so different.”
So different. That was a genteel way to describe him.
He studied Rose, the bright hue of her cheeks. She’d been surprised that he’d invited the others to dinner, but had also thanked him. He didn’t want her gratitude. He wanted to know everything about her life. He suspected he would discover far more than he wanted to know within the pages that Harry had written, but he wanted Rose to tell him more of herself. Which wasn’t fair since he wasn’t going to reveal anything about himself.
“Were you ever displayed?” The words were out before he could stop them. He thought he might destroy something if her answer was yes.
Delicately, she blotted her lips with her napkin before settling it in her lap. “Not exactly. My father bottled an elixir that he claimed would prevent any sort of deformities if a woman would drink it before she got with child. He said he had developed it after Harry was born and that his wife had taken it before she was expecting me. Then I would skip across the stage and twirl about. It didn’t matter that Harry was born four years after me. Because of his condition it was difficult to judge his age. So a tuppence to see Harry, and a shilling for the magical elixir.”
“And of what precisely was the magical elixir composed?”
“River water with a dash of gin.”
“From a particular river?”
She shook her head. “Whichever river we were passing.”
“Quite the charlatan, your father.”
“He thought God owed him, and he was within his rights to do what he could to make his life better. It didn’t matter who he hurt along the way.”
Like her father, she had chosen the path of swindling others, yet he was hard-pressed to think of her as a swindler. Selfishness certainly hadn’t guided her. He couldn’t say the same for himself. From the moment he’d met her all he’d considered was his need to possess her.
“He invited these others to join you?”
“No, that would require too much work—to be in charge of the entire menagerie. It was a little traveling circus of oddities. An elephant, a camel, uh ...”
“A giraffe,” the giant barked out, and Avendale stared at him. It sounded as though his voice came up from the depths of his soles. It was the first time Avendale had heard him speak. He’d begun to think he was mute.
“Joseph liked the giraffe,” Rose said, shaking her head. “The world is full of oddities. I daresay we are all peculiar in one way or another.”
She might be right, although he found nothing about her peculiar. Instead he found her to be quite remarkable.
After dinner, he dispensed with the usual custom of the gentlemen retiring for a bit of port, and invited the ladies to join them in his library. They were sitting near the fire, enjoying a bit of drink, when he became aware of the rain pattering against the window. He met Rose’s gaze. She gave him a soft smile, a moment shared that the others—talking and laughing—missed.
