The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [33]
“Silly, is she? Then she won’t care for His Soberness.”
“I have no doubt but that Althea would be happy to be a duchess even if Sconce were as crazy as a bedbug—which he’s not.”
“Room for only one bedbug-brained duke in this kingdom,” Olivia said cheerfully, “and I’ve already got the monopoly on him. How do you suppose Rupert is doing in Portugal, by the way? He must have gone ashore by now.”
Georgiana waved her hand dismissively. “I expect he’s missing Lucy, but fine otherwise.”
“Which reminds me that I’d better ring for Norah. It’s surprisingly difficult to take care of a dog. It seems as if she’s always having to go out, or eat, or be given her bath.”
“Olivia!” Georgiana said impatiently. “This is not the moment to talk about you or your dog. Do you think the dowager has already made up her mind to choose Althea? Her name sounds appropriate for a duchess.”
“I think it sounds like some odd sort of digestive. Drink Althea for your bowels! Lady Cecily would love it. Do you suppose, Georgie, that her ladyship is perfectly unconscious of how odd it is for a woman with the surname Bumtrinket to be constantly talking about her digestion?”
“Only you would notice such a thing. It certainly never occurred to me.”
“The duke noticed as well. I saw a gleam in his eye that might have been a guffaw in a man who knew how to laugh.”
“My point is that the dowager duchess will certainly look for birth along with elegance. I do hope that she hasn’t already decided for Althea. Or even worse, perhaps Althea has already caught the duke’s fancy,” Georgiana fretted. “She’s very sweet.”
“I don’t think so,” Olivia said, bundling up her hair and then reaching over to pull the bell.
“You don’t think the duchess has chosen a daughter-in-law, or you don’t think the duke has settled on Althea?”
“I don’t think the duke has any idea whom to marry. He doesn’t have the right look about him,” Olivia said flatly. And—she added silently—presumably he wouldn’t be kissing strange women, no matter how revealing their clothing.
“What kind of look would he have if he had made such a decision?”
“Less dashing. At the moment he has a kind of highwayman appeal that suggests that he wants every woman in his vicinity to lust after him.”
Georgiana frowned.
Olivia spoke before her sister could disagree. “His hair, Georgie? Loose around the shoulders? And where was his coat last night? He couldn’t be more obvious if he were one of those men who drift around the Pump Room at Bath looking for plump-in-the-pocket widows.”
“How can you even say such a thing?” Georgiana cried. “The duke would consider such behavior far below him.”
“All right, he’s only midway to a highwayman,” Olivia allowed. “He has the hair and the glamour, without the steed or the pistol. Although if he shouted Stand and deliver, I expect half the debutantes at the Micklethwait ball would have happily tipped up their heels.”
“Tipped up what?”
“Fallen on their backs,” Olivia elaborated, poking her sister. “I love you, Georgie, but you are a bit of a goose when it comes to jokes.”
“I know,” Georgiana said, wrinkling her nose. “I never understand them. At least I never understand yours.”
“I expect that says more about my poor sense of humor than your comprehension,” Olivia allowed. “I think I’ll wear the violet gown to luncheon.”
“Do you think it’s perhaps a bit daring for the time of day? I thought of that gown as more an evening dress.”
“Actually, I had all my dresses cut to the same low measure. I decided that since my curves aren’t going to disappear due to gorging on lettuce, I might as well flaunt them. If men like the bovine appeal, as you said, they’re certainly going to get it from me.”
“I have no curves to flaunt,” Georgiana said, turning so that she could see herself in the glass. “Do you think that the duke is the sort who likes a more generous figure?”
Olivia was strongly of the opinion