Page 50 of The English Duke
She wanted to ask who had collected all the examples of glass art, figurines of every sort from dancers to shepherdesses to animals: dogs, cats, goats, cows, and a bull with delicate-looking horns. Everything sparkled in the yellowish light of the crystal gas lamps.
The Crystal Parlor was another room Martha didn’t care for, but it seemed to enchant Josephine. Her eyes were large as she took in the shelves of crystal statuary.
The maid assigned to this room must consider it a hellish task. Just moving toward the end of the sofa made Martha nervous. What if she accidentally swept the crystal tray off the table in front of her?
She kept a death grip on her skirt, wishing she was at least as graceful as Josephine. She sat, finally, looking up at the two men who’d taken up a stance by the fireplace with its crystal mantel.
The duke had a glass of brandy in his hand. What on earth was she going to do to stop her sister if Josephine was intent on seducing the duke?
Hadn’t Josephine given this idiotic plan any thought at all?
If she was found out, news of the debacle could reach London. There were just so many sins a fortune could mitigate. No man wanted a wife who would bring scandal to their marriage. She could just imagine the tales.
Did you hear? Josephine York was found at midnight in her nightgown, wandering through Sedgebrook. I think she was intent on a tryst, don’t you? Scandalous! Simply scandalous!
“...don’t you, Miss York?”
Josephine nudged her with her elbow, bringing her to the present. She glanced at her sister.
“The duke has asked you a question, Martha.”
Oh, dear. So much for being a proper guest.
Looking up at him, she decided posturing was not going to help. Little got past that stern gaze.
“I do apologize, Your Grace, but I was thinking of something else. What were you saying?”
“Weighty thoughts?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“About the York Torpedo Ship?”
He was more like her father than he knew. Not every thought, idea, or musing was about the ship.
Smiling, she shook her head. “I was thinking of something entirely different.”
She was conscious of Josephine’s irritated look and Reese’s glance of amusement, but she wasn’t going to be the first to look away.
“Care to share your thoughts?” he asked.
“They would only bore you,” she said.
“I doubt that. Perhaps I should be the judge.”
“In this, you’ll have to take my word, Your Grace. Unless,” she added, “you don’t believe a female can be trusted to keep her word.”
“I hold no antipathy for females, Miss York. In fact, I quite enjoy their company. As to trust, is it singled out by gender? Or by character?”
It was exciting to be in a game of wits with him. She’d been reared to believe her mind was the equal of any man’s, that ideas or insight was rewarded regardless of where it originated.
She smiled, thoroughly enjoying herself. “I would say character, but I suspect that is not an answer a man might give.”
“Then you’ve probably not been around the right kind of men, Miss York, if you’ll pardon the effrontery of my remark. Reese, for example,” he said, glancing at his friend, “is of the same opinion as I am. A woman’s word is the equal of a man’s. Yet her dishonesty can be the same as well.”
She inclined her head to grant him the point.
“Then you agree if I tell you my thoughts were unimportant?”
