Page 41 of The Design of Dukes (The Beautiful Barringtons 2)

Poor Theo.

Though Romy and Blythe had finally been properly introduced before dinner the previous day, they hadn’t yet conversed. And while he knew who she was, based on the conversation he’d shared with Theo the previous day, Blythe hadn’t acknowledged their previous acquaintance directly.

“Not at present, my lord.” She took another bite of her apple, allowing the tartness to slide over her tongue.

Blythe watched the movement with a look which probably drove most young ladies into his arms but did nothing whatsoever to Romy.

How bloody disappointing.

“I thought I would come to ask if you will be sketching my backside today. Or are you still focused on Granby’s?”

“You are shameless, my lord. Truly.” She wasn’t angry at Blythe for his improper comments. “I did wonder if you would mention our previous acquaintance to me.” Casting a sideways glance at his mischievous grin, she said, “As you have to my sister.”

“You are quite unforgettable, my lady,” he replied flirtatiously, but there was no real interest, only practiced flattery. She doubted he could speak to a woman any other way.

“And I was not sketching anyone’s backside, as you well know, my lord. Though I do apologize for eavesdropping. Itwaspurely accidental.”

“I confess, I’m disappointed to find you were not sketching me, Lady Andromeda.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Blythe’s eyes sparkled. “Whatwereyou sketching at Lady Masterson’s, if I may ask?”

“The dress a young lady was wearing,” she said, trying not to reveal too much. “A habit of mine. So that I can show my modiste. The design struck me as original and different. Fashion interests me.”

“That explains your interest in the length of Gran’s coat.”

Romy said nothing, only chewed her apple.

“I’d mentioned the length of his coat to Gran before,” Blythe continued, “but he brushed me off. I, on the other hand, pay much attention to such things.”

He would. She took in his impeccably tailored waistcoat with its splash of vibrant blues and greens. Blythe was mere steps away from becoming a dandy.

“The fault was his tailor, as you surmised. Granby inherited the tailor from his father, and the poor man’s eyesight was failing. He struggled to measure Gran properly, as you can imagine. Had to stand on a box to do so. Forty years of service to the Dukes of Granby and then asked to leave The Barrow.” Blythe shook his head. “He lived here most of the time but traveled to London with Granby when required.”

“Forty years?” The taste of the apple turned foul in her mouth.

“Once Granby confronted the elderly man concerning the incorrect cut of his clothing, of which you’d so kindly advised him, he had the tailor put out to pasture.” Blythe sounded mournful. “He wept when he was told to leave The Barrow. The tailor, not Granby,” Blythe said.

Romy struggled to swallow the piece of apple now lodged in her throat. She was aware of the duke’s exacting nature and his adherence to status. Many titled gentlemen of his station likely felt the same way, but that didn’t excuse his behavior. She hadn’t thought him intentionally cruel. “I can’t believe the duke would do such a thing.”

Or rather, she didn’t want to.

“Ask Granby yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Romy took another determined bite of the apple, righteous indignation warming her cheeks. The tailor’s dismissal was her fault. And now she must correct the situation.

“His father didn’t tolerate imperfection either,” Blythe added casually with a shrug, as if the callousness of his friend was of no great consequence. Perhaps to him, it wasn’t. “I must confess, though, I was shocked to see you and your sister here, given how rigid Granby can be in his thinking.”

“We weren’t actually invited but were included at the behest of my cousin, Lady Richardson,” Romy said absently, mind already working on how best she could help the elderly tailor. It had been over a year ago since she’d insulted Granby. The poor man could be dead. Was he buried in a pauper’s grave? Because of her?

She turned to Blythe. “Shocked? Because we weren’t actually invited but tagged along with my cousin? Is his dislike of me so obvious?”

“Another thing you can ask Granby about.”

“Ask me what?” Granby stood just behind Romy, looming over both her and Blythe.

She hadn’t even heard him approach. Sneaking up on his guests should be impossible for such a large man. Romy added it to the ever-growing list of things she didn’t like about the Duke of Granby.

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