Page 15 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
“You quote ancient French novels at me when it is not only my life but my reputation on the line? Still, you have a point. This story could, in fact, have played out very differently. How hard can it be to court a lady?” James picked up his wine glass and drank.
“Say…Do you mean to say you have never courted a lady before?” Andrew’s eyes were wide. “Surely you jest, Your Grace!”
James brushed off his concern and the mocking use of his title. “I have attended balls and danced with many a maiden,” he said and smiled. “How hard can it be?”
“A ballroom does not equate to visiting a lady within her home. There are rules for such things!” Andrew threw up his hands. “I fear we have little time to educate you properly. A book perhaps…there must be a book.” He rose and went to the shelves that lined the room, plucking first one volume and then another, creating a growing stack upon the table where they had eaten.
James picked up one such volume and studied the title. “Don Quixote?” He glanced at the one underneath. “Romeo and Juliet? Even I know these are not stories that end well in the world of romance. What are you giving me?”
“Poetry. Imagination. Courtship!” Andrew said, throwing another book on the stack, this one a collection of poems by Keats, another by Shelley.
“How much time do you think I will have for reading if I am busy in arranging for ships and cargo, and in my spare time, courting a lady who only wishes to be courted for the sake of havingbeencourted?” James complained good-naturedly.
“How about you court your lady and find out how much time you have for the rest,” Andrew said with a chuckle.
‘Your lady.’The phrase stuck in his head. Was it such a bad thought, this impossible Duke’s daughter who was so delightfully imperfect? He recalled her descent down the staircase, as though walking was for mere mortals. Angels danced or tried to. Maybe she had fallen because she was not yet used to life without wings here on earth.
He stared at the poetry books a long moment and shoved them both back toward Andrew. “I think I have enough poetry to get me into trouble all on my own,” he said and regarded the rest somewhat critically. “On the other hand, it never hurts to revisit the Masters,” he said, retrieving the poetry books and tucking them quietly back into the stack.
Chapter 10
She’d never thought he’d actually show up.
When Helena’s father had informed her that she needed to dress for dinner, she suspected that something quite out of the ordinary had happened. For years now, she never ate with the family at all. Of course, having a skin condition such as hers was enough to make anyone lose their appetite. She had decided long ago that it would be cruel to put anyone through such an ordeal.
Now it was she who was taxed with the task of appearing at table.
“Perhaps if we add a fichu of lace?” Aunt Phoebe asked, holding up one dress critically. “With the long gloves and shawl, it might perhaps work.”
“There is still my face,” Helena said wearily, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
“Who did your father say he was inviting?” Phoebe asked, reaching into the wardrobe to withdraw yet another dress to eye it dubiously before returning it to the depths from which it came.
“I do not know. He has not consulted me on his plans,” Helena said, though she’d guessed it. How could she not have guessed it when the same carriage was in the drive that had been there the week before? How Phoebe had not noticed before now was beyond her.
“It seems at the very least he should have consulted me. It is I who run this household after all.” Phoebe withdrew the last dress from the closet, one a sickly yellow that Helena had always heartily disliked.
But Phoebe was nodding with a definite air of satisfaction, pulling out a green shawl to go with it though to Helena’s eye the one the color of autumn leaves would have gone much better. She opened her mouth to suggest just that and stopped. What did she know about fashion? She never went anywhere at all, while Phoebe quite simply did.
“Besides, it seems nonsense to include you. I daresay he’s including that old banker and his wife again. They always were partial to you.” Phoebe’s tone quite clearly gave her opinion of them for liking her. “All right, I have set out your things. Now be sure to have the new maid dress your hair. I gave her strict instructions.”
“I wish that Betty had stayed,” Helena sighed. “I rather liked her.”
“Well, the same could not be said of her, I suppose. But then not everyone is prepared for the unique challenges of the position.” Phoebe bent and hugged her swiftly. “Try not to worry about it. Change and make yourself pretty for the night. It will be nice for you to get out into society even if it is that fat old banker. I know you long for conversation.”
I do, but I have never told you that.
Helena’s eyes narrowed. Not for the first time she felt a vague stirring of unease.
It is because he is here. I shall see him tonight.
She did not know how to be courted. Surely there was more to it than sitting through dinner with a stranger. She had no idea.
The moment Phoebe left, Helena fled down the back stairs to the kitchen, looking for the only person who could actually help.
* * *
Bridget was up to her elbows in pastry dough when Helena arrived.
