Page 41 of His Arranged Duchess
“Yes, he was horrid. That memory escaped me until just now. I’d forgotten about the corsets and the dresses, or else I would not have given you the dresses. I hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable.”
“No, but I found that… oh, heavens. Is thatKatherine?”
Before Lucien could ask any foolish questions, such aswho is Katherine, he happened to glance over to his right. There was no path there, but that small fact was not stopping the woman currently striding towards them.
She was tall and rather stocky, with a mane of vivid red hair streaming out behind her, some of it coming out of a rather sloppily pinned knot at the back of her head. She wore a bright green pelisse over a white gown with a muddy hem, and apair of well-worn boots poked out underneath. She wore round spectacles, which caught the sun as she hurried towards them.
“Frances!” the woman shouted, waving an arm in the air. She had a loud voice that carried easily, and several other promenaders glared at her in disapproval. She did not seem to notice.
She reached the path with a sigh of relief and wasted no time before enveloping Frances in her arms.
“Frances, darling, I am simplythrilledto see you,” the woman said breathlessly.
“I had no idea you were back in England,” Frances responded, laughing. “Weren’t you visiting some islands or other? Your last letter had an account of an almost-shipwreck. I was quite on the edge of my seat reading it.”
“I was, but we’re back now,” Katherine responded. “Only yesterday. I heard of your marriage—and the almost-marriage—almost as soon as I set foot off the ship. What a terrible state of affairs! I’m quite mad with worry.”
There was an awkward pause, during which Frances glanced guiltily up at Lucien.
“Yes, I… I am married, Katherine. This is my husband, Lucien Russell, Duke of Blackstone. Lucien, this is Miss Katherine Luton.”
Katherine turned a frank and unapologetic stare onto Lucien. She had an even-featured face, nothing as breathtakingly beautiful as Frances’s, but she was pretty enough, if one did not mind her stature. Lucien knew a good many gentlemen of short stature in Society, men who seemed to view tall women as a personal insult.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Luton,” Lucien responded smoothly, bowing. “Any friend of Frances’s is a friend of mine.”
That was not strictly true, of course, but it was the kind of thing that people seemed to expect gentlemen to say. Katherine narrowed her eyes at him, as if she were not fooled.
“We shall see about that,” she responded.
At that moment, something moved on her shoulder, crawling out from under a stray lock of hair. Before Lucien could say anything, Frances gave a strangled squeak.
“Katherine! What is that?”
“Hm? Oh, the little chap has escaped, I see. I kept him in my reticule, but it was too cramped for him. Besides, you know how often I drop my reticule.”
Katherine reached up and plucked the thing off her shoulder. It appeared to be a lizard, or a reptile of some sort. The creature splayed itself over her gloved hand, tilted back its head, and surveyed them both through yellow, slitted eyes. Thelittle creature was sandy-colored, with an odd pattern which seemed almost to shift as Lucien stared at it. He imagined that the creature might flatten itself against a rock and blend in so perfectly as to almost disappear.
“What is it?” Frances whispered, her voice hushed.
“It’s a gecko,” Katherine responded, sounding proud. “I forget which type. It came from one of the islands and must have snuck onto the boat in a box of fruit or something, and by the time we realized it was too late to do much about it. I shall have to take care of him, and he will be the most well-travelled gecko in the world. I call him Henry.”
“A fine name for a lizard,” Lucien murmured.
Katherine fixed him with a steely glare. “Agecko.”
He placed a hand over his chest. “Forgive me. A gecko.”
He caught Frances smiling up at him and dropped her a quick, steady wink. She flushed abruptly, turning away, and he felt strangely that he had done something wrong.
Katherine paused, glancing over her shoulder, and sighed.
“Oh, lord. Papa is coming. I daresay I’m in trouble.”
Sure enough, a short, round-bodied gentleman with a perfectly bald head like an egg was puffing towards them.
“Katherine,” he stuttered severely as he approached, “I do hope you are not bothering the Duke and Duchess of Blackstone.”
“I am only greeting my friend, Papa. I haven’t seen Frances in an age. We haven’t seen each other since school, have we, Frances?”
