Page 152 of Doxy for the Ton
“I couldn’t possibly,” Alexander said. “I’ve eaten five rashers already.”
“Eight, by my count,” the duchess said.
“Eleanor, my love, Sawbridge is our guest,” Whitcombe said. “He can eat as much as he wants.”
“Did I say he couldn’t?” she replied.
“Not everyone is as observant as you, my love.”
And not everyone had the ability to unsettle even the stoutest of men with a single emerald stare, but the duchess managed to achieve it. Doubtless she could fell an army just by glaring at them.
“Did you have a pleasant journey from London yesterday?” she asked.
“I did,” Alexander said, “as I believe I told you last night.”
Whitcombe let out a chuckle and leaned back, as if awaiting the entertainment of watching his wife verbally eviscerate his friend for daring to answer back.
“No doubt there are many ladies mourning your departure,” she said, an edge to her voice.
“My love,” Whitcombe whispered, and she let out a sharp sigh.
“Where are we going today, Duchess?” Alexander asked.
“To visit my sister. We’re to stay there for a few days.”
“Perhaps I should remain here, then.”
“I particularly wantyouto join us.”
Alexander looked to his friend for support, but Whitcombe averted his gaze.
“Why the need for my company, Duchess?” Alexander asked. “Forgive me, but I’m aware you don’t like me.”
Whitcombe made a noise that sounded like suppressed laughter—or perhaps a prayer for mercy on Alexander’s behalf.
“My sister’s overseeing the opening of a new school this afternoon and wishes you to be among the party,” she replied.
“Lady Radham likes me even less than you,” Alexander said. “With good reason, I’ll admit. As to Lord Radham, he despises me.”
“You could always consider the invitation an opportunity to change their opinion.”
“Opinions rarely change,” he said, “particularly unfavorable opinions—as I know from experience.”
“Then you may be surprised to know that I was beginning to like you,” she said.
Alexander let out a snort. “To what do I owethatparticular honor?”
She tilted her head to one side. “Well, Iwas, at least.”
Then she stood, almost knocking her teacup aside. Whitcombe rose and Alexander followed suit, glancing at the remaining rasher of bacon on his plate.
“Shall we make ready?” she said. “We should leave directly if we’re to arrive in time for the opening. I don’t want to push the horses too hard. They’re the last creatures in the world who deserve to suffer.”
She fixed her gaze on Alexander, and his heart withered at the prospect of being stuck in a carriage with her. Then she glanced at the remaining rasher on his plate.
“Do finish that,” she said. “I wouldn’t want my guests to think me inhospitable.”
“Perish the thought,” Alexander said.
