Page 30 of Tamed By a Duke
At the beginning of the evening, all Hugh had wished for was to make amends with Miss Drew, so that Dubarry's plan might succeed. Now, as he watched the Drew's carriage manoeuvre itself into the traffic on Drury Lane, Hugh realised that he did not give a fig for his cousin's desires.
It was his desires which consumed him; he wanted Miss Drew. And when Hugh wanted something, he always got it, and the only thing standing in his path was Miss Drew's refusal to admit how attracted to him she was.
But that could be easily remedied, he thought with a smile.
Chapter Nine
"He really is most infuriating," Charlotte sighed, placing her cup of tea down upon the table.
"Yes, you've said that three times already," Julia replied, attempting to hide a smile behind her own cup.
"Actually, it's four times by my count," Violet piped up, from her position by the window.
Charlotte scowled at her two friends; honestly, they were supposed to be on her side. She had recounted the tale of her argument with Penrith—much edited, she had to admit—and the duke's apology that evening. Both ladies had agreed that Penrith had been a boor, but for some reason her recounting of Penrith's stiff apology had left her two friends doe-eyed.
"He practically commanded me to wait at home for him all morning," Charlotte repeated, still irritated by the duke's toplofty manner, "As though I had nothing else to do."
"Yes, we know," Julia replied, still wearing a secretive smile which Charlotte found infuriating, "And he will know you wait for no man, once he calls upon you to find you not at home."
"I am not only here because I wish to infuriate Penrith," Charlotte made haste to clarify, "We had already agreed to take tea and view Violet's new painting."
"Which neither of you have yet viewed," Violet pointed out. She did not sound angry though, just glum, and her eyes were narrowed with distaste at the canvas she was working on. "Not that you are missing out on anything. I can't seem to make any progress. If I am ever to improve, I shall need proper tutelage in Paris or Florence..."
Violet gave a heaving sigh and placed her palette down.
"I'm sure it's wonderful," Charlotte argued, hopping from her perch on the lopsided sofa to inspect her friend's work. Julia followed suit, gracefully navigating her way through the piles of books to make her way to the easel.
"Why, Violet, it's genius," Charlotte pronounced, as she took in her friend's depiction of a domestic scene, which featured Aunt Phoebe seated upon a chaise, with the faithful Fifi at her feet. "You're well on your way to becoming the next Marguerite Gérard."
"Marguerite Gérard had residence in theLouvre, and was surrounded by artists and great masterpieces," Violet grumbled in response, though her ears had turned pink with pleasure at Charlotte's compliment, "I can never hope to emulate her, when all I am surrounded by is piles of books and stuffed dogs."
Violet poked poor Fifi despondently with the end of her paintbrush. The rigid terrier toppled over onto her side, her glass eyes staring up sadly at the trio of young ladies.
"You are not only surrounded by dead dogs," Julia replied bracingly, "You have two friends who think you are a marvellous painter. And you have Sebastian, a true connoisseur of the arts. Where is he? Perhaps he can offer a word of encouragement?"
"Sebastian?" Violet jumped nervously at the mention of her twin brother's name, "Why should we need to call Sebastian? The two of you have supplied me with all the encouragement I need. Come, let us forget the painting for a moment and focus on the real issue at hand; Charlotte's love for Penrith."
"I beg your pardon?" Charlotte squawked, as Violet corralled her friends back to the table where the tea and cakes had been set out.
"It's quite obvious that you are infatuated by him," her friend replied, as she poured three fresh cups of tea, "You have talked of nothing else since you arrived."
"I have not!" Charlotte argued, taking the cup that Violet proffered.
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks," Julia said with a smile, as she settled herself back onto the sofa.
"If I was bleating about His Grace, it is only because I find him so annoying," Charlotte was quick to defend herself; she did not love Penrith, she could barely stand him. True, she had relived the moment he had taken her hand in his umpteen times, and when she thought of his cool blue eyes holding hers in that intense gaze, she felt a shiver of desire. But that did not mean that she loved him, she told herself firmly.
And if his apology had been touching, it was only because she knew how much it had taken for a man of his pride to admit to any wrong. And his play-acting and joking had been endearing, but then so was the play-acting of Julia's nieces, and she did not love any of them.
And—and—and—
"Love me or hate me, both are in my favour. If you love me, I'll always be in your heart...If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind."
"Can we please stop quoting Shakespeare," Charlotte sighed in reply to Violet's teasing verse, "I had quite enough of him last night. I do not love the Duke of Penrith; he is merely the hammer which will break the shackles which bind Bianca."
"A very handsome hammer," Julia observed wryly.
"Yes," Charlotte sighed, "Yes, he is exceptionally handsome, but he is still just a hammer. Now, enough about Penrith. What did you both think ofEvelina?"
