Page 37 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“You are a woman, and I am a man. I have helped a woman who is likely half my size— do you not think that I would overpower her?”
Ellie rolled her eyes and touched a finger to her temple. “Men will be men,” she muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“I have not failed to notice how uncommonly comely she is, brother dear. I would go so far as to say that she is beautiful. A woman like her could use her physical traits to trap a man. She wouldn’t need to use any brute force at all.”
Where had his sister come across such information? It sounded like something a courtesan would say, not a highborn woman who had grown up closeted from the ills of the outside world.
“I am not one to fall prey to women’s charms,” he told his sister. “Have I not had the privilege of having countless beauties vying for my attention?”
“It takes only one woman to bring a man to his knees, and judging by the amount of interest you have shown in this woman, I believe I am correct in worrying about you.”
“I do not like the direction of this conversation,” he said, stabbing a young carrot. “What do you and your friends discuss when you are together? I hope my sister has not given herself to coarse company.”
“I am twenty years old, Nash,” his sister responded, clearly exasperated. “One hears about things and learns from them. You cannot be a member of thetonand expect not to hear all the scandals that plague our society.”
Nash understood this well enough, but he didn’t have to like it. “I would prefer if my sister would keep herself from unsavoury conversations from this moment forth. Such things ruin a woman’s character and respectability.”
“Do they ruin a man’s respectability?”
“’Tis different for a man, which you know full well. Now, I beg of you, let’s speak about something else. I wish to enjoy my dinner without further argument.”
Ellie nodded. “I agree. I wished to speak to you about a dinner party before we took an unwanted turn in our conversation.”
“Indeed? What sort of a dinner party? I thought you were tired of those.”
“I was tired of only inviting David and his parents,” Ellie corrected. “But a general dinner party with all our friends sounds lovely. We can have the party to celebrate all the renovations done on the house. I know you are proud of what your plans and dreams have achieved, so why not share the accomplishment with others?”
Nash wasn’t keen on dinner parties unless they met a need. Having one to celebrate the re-opening of Stratford Manor didn’t seem like something he would particularly like, but he would agree to one for his sister’s engagement party.
“Why not make the party two-fold? We can celebrate the manor’s renovations and have your engagement party all at once. Is that not a splendid idea?”
Ellie sighed. “I said that I have agreed to marry David, but I wish to do things at a slower pace. It is still spring, and I agreed to a wedding before the end of summer. I have at least three months which is ample time, in my opinion.
Our courtship could do with a little more time to know each other better. I would like to know a little more about the man I will spend the rest of my life with.”
That was understandable, but Nash was still wary about his sister’s reluctance.
“Why not discuss the party at another time?” he suggested. “In the meantime, you can have your pink dress made, and perhaps you can wear that at our next social dinner. I agree that pink is your colour, as are other soft shades.”
Isabella would look lovely in jewel-toned colours, particularly green. I have never seen her in anything but beige, brown, or white, but...
What was he thinking? Nash had no business wondering about Isabella’s clothes or what colours suited her complexion. Perhaps his sister was right, and he was too interested in the woman. It was one thing to observe something new, but quite another to let those thoughts consume a person.
Chapter 8
Juliana paused outside Mrs Black’s room, uncertain about how to approach the woman about the mistakes in the ledger. The candlestick maker and vegetable vendor had been overcharging the household for nearly a month, and neither Lady Stratford nor Mrs Black had noticed the discrepancy.
Juliana had taken to looking through the bills and doing her own calculations when Mrs Black had dumped a box of them at her feet and told her to sort them into their relevant months and store them away. Juliana had not minded at all and had been grateful for the opportunity to sit down.
The housekeeper’s room was a small space tucked towards the back of the house where she kept a record of anything to do with the household, from wages paid to the stock available in the pantry rooms. It was big enough to fit a simple desk, two chairs, and enough shelves to store all the records.
Taking a deep breath in, Juliana knocked and waited for the woman’s curt response. She always seemed short with everyone, but Juliana had grown used to it enough not to take offence.
“Come in!”
Juliana jerked a little. Perhaps she wasn’t as used to the woman as she initially believed she was, but Juliana firmly believed that the housekeeper would one day look at her and smile.
