The Duke Is Mine - Eloisa James [40]
“My fiancé does not carry his accomplishments on his sleeve, but I assure you that the sweetness of his disposition inspires loyalty.”
The dowager nodded. Rather to Quin’s surprise, there was a grudging respect in her eyes. “I would desire your forgiveness for the indignity of my suggestion.”
Olivia’s smile was very charming. “Your Grace,” she said, “I heartily repent any untoward words of my own.”
“For goodness’ sake,” Justin moaned, not quite under his breath, “I feel as if I am watching an elocution lesson.”
Neither lady paid him the slightest heed.
“The Marquess of Montsurrey is very lucky,” the dowager pronounced. “I shall write to his father immediately and inform him that his selection of a wife for his son does the family great credit.”
Olivia bowed her head and dropped into yet another deep curtsy.
Quin, who had been momentarily distracted from the matter of Olivia’s betrothal, just stopped himself from growling.
Lucky? If he understood correctly, Montsurrey’s father had chosen Olivia, much in the same way that he himself was allowing his mother to pick a wife.
He suddenly realized that Georgiana was smiling expectantly at him. He bowed, as stiffly as a marionette. “Miss Georgiana.”
She wrapped her hand under his arm. “Your Grace.”
It wasn’t leftovers.
It wasn’t.
Ten
One Should Never Underestimate the Power of a Twist of Silk
Georgiana appeared to be both admiring and rather awed. At the same time, she had composure and clear self-respect. This was how a lady should look at a duke. And she hadn’t giggled once.
Lady Althea, on the other hand, giggled the moment he held out his arm.
“I hope that my mother’s invitation did not draw either of you from London at an unwelcome time,” Quin said, leading Georgiana and Althea across the terrace, one lady on either side. Cleese had set up a table at the far end, under the shade of the blooming clematis.
“Not at all,” Georgiana answered. “I must confess that I was finding the season slightly tedious.”
“You have been out a number of years, haven’t you?” Lady Althea asked. Then she added with a charmingly flustered air, “I do hope that I haven’t embarrassed you with that observation, Miss Georgiana. You look so young that one quite forgets how time passes.”
Quin glanced down at the pretty bundle of femininity clinging to his left arm. Althea had apparently realized that she was falling behind in the ducal sweeps, and was making a stab at cutting her opposition out of the pack.
“I did indeed make my debut a number of years ago,” Georgiana said, smiling at Althea as she sat down. Quin handed Althea into a chair beside her mother. Georgiana didn’t seem to have turned a hair over Althea’s jab.
“I have never thought that youth was a particularly good indicator of marriageability,” Olivia remarked, as Justin ushered her into a seat to Quin’s left. “There are so many more important factors.”
Having been schooled by his mother in the fine points of etiquette, Quin noted that Miss Lytton should not have intervened in a conversation to which she was not a part. But obviously the rule was malleable: the dowager was likewise unable to resist.
“A lady’s virtues,” she pronounced, “are her dearest possession.” She then added, “I consider age to be a negligible consideration.”
“I quite agree,” Olivia agreed, “though I would add that it depends on the virtues in question. All too often young ladies have all the virtues I most dislike, and none of the vices I rather admire.”
“No one could dislike virtue!” Althea exclaimed.
“But I gather that you believe inexperience is a virtue, at least on the marriage market?”
“I suppose,” Althea said, rather uncertainly. She had lost control of the exchange, and she knew it.
“And yet it can be so crushingly boring.” With a brilliant smile, Olivia turned to Justin and asked him what the grouse season was like around Littlebourne Manor.
Althea opened her mouth and shut it again.
“Lady Althea,” Georgiana said, “I remember hearing