Page 84 of The Texan Duke
Lara was, unfortunately, not finished giving her opinions.
“He’s coarse. He has no manners. He speaks in an odd way. He’s entirely too familiar. He knows all of the staff by name and he addresses them that way.”
She knew all about Sam and how he behaved. She knew, too, that the man was oddly charming in a way that had completely captivated her. Her daughter was not the only one who was surprised at her reaction to Sam Kirby. Rhona had already decided that she was being foolish, but no man had ever complimented her as fulsomely as Sam. And, if she looked in his eyes to gauge the sincerity of his remark, she could only assume that he was entirely serious.
He wasn’t just from Texas. He’d spent a great deal of time in New Orleans, Chicago, San Francisco, New York, Paris, and a few cities that she had aspired to visit, like Florence, but had not yet seen.
He was, if Lara but knew it, more well traveled than anyone she knew.
Certainly more than Felix.
Sam was amusing. He made her laugh in ways that she didn’t think she’d ever laughed. Or if she had, it was years and years ago when she was more carefree and had fewer disappointments about her life.
Gavin McCraight had been a good man. He just hadn’t been the right man. She’d known that he was still in love with his first wife when he married her. She’d suspected that the reason for their whirlwind courtship had been so he could find a mother for his child, the same one who now criticized her with such acidity in her voice.
“It isn’t any of your concern at all, Lara,” she said, not unkindly. “Not what I do or with whom I do it.”
“You’re a laughingstock. Even the servants are whispering about you.”
“I don’t doubt that,” she said, standing and brushing her hands against her skirt.
Today the dress she was wearing was a slight departure from her usual mourning. The fabric was an emerald green silk, so dark as to appear black in a certain light, but when she turned, the color changed. It was like looking through a deep and dark pool of water. She’d fallen in love with the material the moment the seamstress had shown a sample to her.
Instead of criticizing her, Lara could’ve said something about the way she looked. She could have dredged up some kind words. Rhona knew, quite well, that she was appearing younger and younger lately, a fact that could be attributed to having a man pay attention to her after all these years.
“The servants will gossip about you regardless of what you do, Lara. We’re characters in a play to them. We stride across the stage of Bealadair and the servants are our audience. Never forget that. Never forget, too, that you can look ridiculous doing absolutely nothing. Better that you should live your life the best way you can and let people say what they will.”
Lara looked surprised at her words. As well she might; it was a newly adopted attitude, one that had its roots in a conversation with Sam. He had a great deal of common sense. She liked the man. Even more, she was charmed by him. If he’d tried to kiss her a time or two and she had allowed it, then it was no one’s concern but hers. Certainly not Lara’s.
She left the sitting room to meet the very man she’d just been warned about.
Chapter 26
To her great surprise, when Elsbeth went to ask Mrs. Ferguson about the rust on the chandelier chain, the older woman was bundling up in a sweater, a jacket, and a cloak over that.
“Is it very cold outside?” the other woman asked, reaching for her knitted gloves.
“No,” Elsbeth said, watching as she donned a pair of leather gloves over the knitted ones. “The day is very fair. It’s cold but it isn’t a miserable cold. Where are you going?”
“To watch the match, of course,” Mrs. Ferguson said. “Aren’t you?”
“But it’s outside.”
Mrs. Ferguson never went outside, not in the winter. The cold made her arthritis so much worse. She rarely left her rooms, for that matter. One of the few times she had was to treat Connor.
“Of course it’s outside.” The housekeeper frowned at Elsbeth. “You are going, aren’t you?”
She hadn’t planned on it, but she couldn’t think of an excuse, especially when she was being pinned by Mrs. Ferguson’s gaze. She ended up nodding.
“I’ll get my cloak and see you downstairs,” she said.
She was nearly to the servants’ stairs when she heard her name being called. Instead of turning, what she really wanted to do was run as far and as fast as she could.
She’d had a busy morning and her dress had suffered for it. She could feel tendrils around her face from where her hair had escaped its careful bun. Why did she have to see him looking like this?
Well, if nothing else it would prove that the duchess’s plan was beyond foolish.
“Did the key fit?” she asked, keeping a smile on her face with some difficulty.
