The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [21]
“Who could not? It’s not that she’s the only dog in the ton—Lord Filibert’s poodle has gained some notoriety, given its green bows—but Lucy is the only one with flea-bitten ears.”
“Unkind,” Olivia said, laughing. “I think the bite to her tail proved more detrimental to her beauty.”
“Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but one would have to be blind to praise Lucy.”
“She has very sweet eyes,” Olivia protested. “And it’s rather adorable the way her ears turn inside out when she runs.”
“That is not a characteristic I ever considered essential to an attractive dog.”
“Mother doesn’t admire it either. In fact, she was truly vexed by the idea that I might be seen with the dog by anyone of consequence.”
Georgiana raised an eyebrow. “Lucy isn’t going to Portugal? I thought Rupert was never separated from her.”
“He believes the trip might be dangerous, so he asked me to care for her in his absence.”
“Most people do say that about battlefields. So where is Lucy? She certainly wasn’t in the drawing room by the time I joined you. Is she in the stables?”
“In the kitchens, being bathed,” Olivia said. “Rupert demanded that she remain with me at all times. Of course, Mother was entirely sweet to his face, but she flew into a temper the moment the door closed. She considers Lucy to be an utterly inappropriate companion for a future duchess. Which makes her the perfect companion for me, you have to admit.”
“Lucy does not have an aristocratic air. It’s the rat tail, I think.”
“Or that long waist. She looks like a sausage with legs. But she will smell like an aristocrat. Mother sent her down to the kitchens to be bathed in buttermilk.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “Lucy may be enjoying the buttermilk, but the idea is preposterous.”
“Mother also suggested that bows or some sort of embellishment might make her more suitable as a lady’s companion.” In the whole, long, rather horrible day, the only bright spot was the expression on their mother’s face when Rupert, a tear rolling down his cheek, put Lucy’s leash into Olivia’s hand.
“Lucy with bows on her ears—or that tail—does not appeal,” Georgiana stated firmly.
“Do you know what’s bothering Mother the most? I think she’s afraid that everyone will call Lucy a mongrel and then think the same of me. Bows for Lucy and ribbons for me, if you see what I mean.”
“You can squash any such pretentiousness. Mother may despair of you, Olivia, but you and I both know that if you feel like playing a stiff-rumped duchess, you can do it with more flair than almost anyone.”
“It’s not always possible to disguise the truth,” Olivia said. “Look at poor Rupert and his celery stick, for example.”
“I think your experience in the library was unusual. All the conversations I’ve had with married women gave me the strong conviction that men needed nothing more than a woman and a modicum of privacy.”
“Rupert obviously needed more than a captive woman and a sofa. But I’m not sure his experience says much about the rest of mankind.”
“What did you say after you left the room?”
“Nothing. I promised Rupert that I would never tell—you don’t count. His father should have known better than to think a duck could rise to the occasion, so to speak.”
“Did Rupert obey you?”
“In every detail,” Olivia said, with a flash of triumph. “He was a bit unsteady on his legs—I think he should probably stick to cider in the future—but he managed to bow without falling over, and then to leave without revealing the fact that neither of his two most important organs are functioning.”
Georgiana sighed. “You really mustn’t.”
“I’m sorry. It just came out of my mouth.”
“Jests like those should never come out of a lady’s mouth.”
“If you’re casting aspersions on my claims to propriety, you’re not saying anything that Mother hasn’t concluded long ago,” Olivia said. “Enough about my character deficits. In all the excited talk of your aptitude for the position of Duchess of Sconce, did Mother mention Lady Cecily Bumtrinket?”
“What an extraordinary name. No.”
“Well, as Mother told you, the Duchess of