Page 80 of Oddity of the Ton
“Hmmm,” the dowager muttered. The footman placed her teacup in front of her, and she stared at it.
Silence fell once more, swelling into a bubble of discomfort until the urge to lance it was more than Eleanor could bear.
“We’re enjoying very fine weather.”
She turned, slowly, toward the window and back again.
Eleanor tried another phrase. “This seems a pleasant room.”
“Are you here to discuss the weather and my furnishings, child?”
“N-no—” Eleanor hesitated. “I-I’m sorry.”
“Must you apologizeallthe time?” The dowager let out a huff. “Why do people always feel the need to apologize when they’ve committed no transgression?”
“Because they believe theyhavecommitted a transgression,” Eleanor said. “Not necessarily in their eyes, but in the eyes of another whom they f—”
She broke off, her cheeks warming.
“Whom they fear? Was that what you were going to say?” the dowager demanded. “Why might you fearme?”
Because you have the demeanor of a spider and the manners of a tyrant.
The dowager arched an eyebrow, almost as if she’d read Eleanor’s mind. And, with a glare that could tear down walls at fifty paces, in all likelihood, she could.
“Is it because you believe I disapprove of your marrying my son?”
“We’re not married yet.”
“What an extraordinary response! Is it because you ensnared him through nefarious means, and fear that he’ll eventually see reason?”
“I didn’t ensnare him, Duchess,” Eleanor said. “A man such as the Duke of Whitcombe…” She shook her head. “I cannot begin to imagine how that might be done by even the most perfect debutante—let alone one such as I.”
“Then how did you persuade him to offer for you in such a public manner?”
Despite her discomfort, Eleanor found herself having to suppress the little devil inside her mind that roared with laughter at the notion of her having the power of persuasion over anyone.
“You give me more credit than I deserve, Duchess, if you believe me capable of influencing your son.”
“Yet you succeeded.”
“I did nothing,” Eleanor said. “Until he offered for me, I don’t believe he even knew I existed.”
“Yet you do exist, child—here and now, inmyhome, taking tea.”
What right did this woman have to insult her?
“I’m here at your invitation,Your Grace,” Eleanor said, smiling inwardly as the dowager flinched at her incorrect address. “And I’m engaged to your son athisinvitation.”
“You’re a fool if you believe his motives to be honorable. My son’s notorious for his want of feeling, his lack of any sense of duty toward his family or others. He’s the very last man with whom a woman should entangle herself.”
“You seem to have a low opinion of him.”
“He’s aman.”
“Not all men are evil,” Eleanor said. “Your son least of all.”
“You say that because you don’t know him.”
