The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [39]
The question was . . . what was the question? It was unusual for Quin to feel as if he were floundering between incoherent thoughts.
“As we have unequal numbers,” his mother stated, “I regret that some ladies must necessarily remain unescorted. Tarquin, you may escort Miss Georgiana and Lady Althea to luncheon. Lord Justin, you may escort Miss Lytton. Lady Sibblethorp, we shall progress together.” She paused for a moment.
“Miss Lytton, I would ask you to return that canine to the house before you join us. Animals are not tolerable in the vicinity of the dining table. In fact, I would prefer that the creature remain in the stables at all times.”
“I do assure you, Your Grace, that if it were within my capacity to put Lucy in the stables, I would do so. But my fiancé, the Marquess of Montsurrey, begged me to keep her with me at all times before he left for the wars. I could not deny a request from a man engaged in the defense of our country.”
“I am certain that he did not mean it literally,” the dowager replied acidly.
“I’m afraid Rupert is always literal in his requests.”
“Indeed.” The dowager narrowed her eyes. “I had heard something of the sort.”
Quin tensed at this, but Olivia merely said, “In fact, Lucy seems to have taken quite a liking to you, Your Grace.”
As one, the entire company looked down to find that Olivia’s dog was now sitting at the edge of the dowager’s skirts, one tiny paw resting gently on the tip of her slipper.
She made a strangled sound. “Off!”
Lucy seemed unmoved by this command. She simply raised her long nose and gave a small woof, leaving her paw where it was.
“Tarquin!” the dowager said, staring down with the same horror with which one might greet the sudden appearance of a squid in one’s bathwater.
Before Quin could come to the rescue, Olivia scooped up her dog. “I am so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I had no idea that you were frightened by dogs, Your Grace.”
The dowager regained her composure instantly. “Of course I am not frightened by canines. I merely find them to be unnervingly dirty. Given what I have heard of your fiancé, Miss Lytton, I think we can both agree that you may overrule his request. Put the dog in the stables. Begin, in short, as you mean to carry on.”
It was Olivia’s turn to stiffen. “I am quite sure you did not mean to speak of the Marquess of Montsurrey in such a manner, Your Grace.” And then, as the dowager opened her mouth, Olivia added, “I myself would be reluctant to incur the censure of disloyalty, but I consider this of no account, since I am certain that you had no intention of making a suggestion that would be a wound to your credit, and give blemish to your courtesy.”
Quin didn’t even bother to untangle that; he could see that a gauntlet had just been tossed onto the flagstones at their feet. His mother held herself as rigidly as a soldier on parade, as did Olivia. They were of approximate heights and seemed to be displaying equal strength of will. And even more unnerving, each lady had a slight smile on her face.
“While Lucy will remain in my presence except at meals, as requested by my fiancé,” Olivia continued, “I will do my best to keep her from your sight, Your Grace.”
There was a terrible moment of silence, and then the dowager said, “That shall have to do.”
Olivia sank into a curtsy, still holding Lucy under her arm. “I trust that you are not offended, Your Grace. I am heartened by memory of your own words: ‘A true lady prefers gentle reproof to extravagant compliment.’ ”
There was a soft gasp from the direction of Lady Sibblethorp, and Quin judged it time to separate the contestants before his mother forgot some of the precepts she held so dear; for her part, Olivia seemed to regard them as little more than weapons.
“Miss Georgiana and Lady Althea,” he interjected. “May I have the honor of escorting you both to luncheon?”
“Miss Lytton,” Justin chimed in. “May I give Lucy to a footman?”
But the dowager, chin high, ignored