The Ugly Duchess

Page 50

Theo could be charming, perhaps . . . but seductive, never. Her old ragged hurts presented themselves, and in the middle of the night, she decided that no matter how beautiful the silks and satins in which she draped herself, she still felt ugly. No need to refer to waterfowl of any variety.
Just ugly.
Not to mention sorry for herself.
It was all very depressing.
The next morning she woke feeling angry—mostly at herself, though she reserved a bit for James as well. Couldn’t he have simply stayed away and lived his life out with those golden island maidens with their hidden coves and all the rest of it?
She would have been a happy widow. She would have found a man with intelligent eyes and a thin face. He would have been strong, but lean. And very gentle. After a moment’s hesitation she gave him a slightly longish chin. She didn’t want beauty.
Every once in a while she would think about how amiably James had regarded her from across the table the previous night, and how kindly he had asked her questions—precisely as if he were a well-meaning uncle whom she’d somehow mislaid—and another little ember of irritation would light in her stomach.
When she finally came downstairs for luncheon, Maydrop met her at the newel post. “The situation has only grown worse outside the house,” he told her, keeping pace as she walked to the dining room. She had taken only a cup of hot chocolate for breakfast and she was ravenous.
“Worse?” she asked, hardly listening. She didn’t wait for him to open the door to the dining room but opened it herself.
James was sitting at the table, eating what looked to be half a roasted pig and reading a newspaper. Theo took a deep breath. He looked up and rose to his feet. “Forgive me for having started the meal. I erroneously believed you were not joining me for luncheon. I thought you were eating in your chamber.”
“I never eat in my chamber,” Theo said, keeping her voice level with an effort.
James’s eyebrow shot up and he looked at Maydrop. “That would suggest you didn’t have breakfast. Does no one in the household understand that you turn into a whirling dervish if you don’t eat frequently?”
A footman held out a chair, and Theo dropped onto it. By the time she’d eaten a piece of trout, delicatedly cooked with just a touch of butter, she was feeling better.
James hadn’t said another word. And he hadn’t stopped reading the paper, either. If this was what married life was like, she wanted none of it. Courtesy was what made life tolerable. If people read newspapers when they should be engaged in civil conversation, they might as well just squat before a fireplace and gnaw on charred hunks of meat like savages.
Maydrop offered three different desserts, each presented by a footman who advanced one step, at precisely the same time. At least not everything in her household had fallen to pieces. She nodded at the pear cake.
Across the table, James drawled, “I’ll have a piece of that as well.”
Maydrop paced around the table, followed by the footmen.
“I saw what Her Grace was offered,” James said impatiently. “There’s no need to come around here.” He pointed at the cake with his fork.
The air in Theo’s chest felt heated, as if she’d walked into a smithy. But she began eating her pear cake, trying to ignore the fact that James was still reading. And chuckling as he read, but without bothering to share what amused him so.
“This is absurd,” he finally said, raising his head. His eyes were brimming with laughter. “I’ve never seen this sort of paper before.” He held up a page. “They don’t name anyone except by an initial.”
“Gossip rags. I don’t have twaddle of that nature delivered to this house,” Theo said. “Where on earth did you get it?”
“Maydrop sent a footman out for all the papers,” James replied, turning back to his newspaper. “I wanted to see how my entry into Lords was described. Vulgar curiosity, I admit.”
“And?” She took a last bite of pear cake, which was truly delicious.
“Her Grace will try the blackberry tart,” James said, pointing his fork at the appropriate footman.
“I make such decisions for myself!” Theo flashed. She made it a practice not to overindulge in sweets. But the footman had already placed a slice of the tart in front of her. It smelled wonderful and she took a bite despite herself.
“Most of these descriptions are surprisingly unimaginative and simply paint me as a savage,” James said, a hint of complaint in his voice. “Town Twaddle is the best of the bunch; at least they put a little effort into it.”
Theo was definitely feeling better. “Brute? Monster?”
“Neptune himself!” James said triumphantly. “Wait a moment.” He rummaged in a stack of newsprint he had apparently dropped on the floor beside his chair.
Theo closed her eyes for a second. Of course she couldn’t order Maydrop to clean up that mess immediately. A piece of loose newsprint drifted onto her foot and she kicked it away.
“ ‘He appeared from the sea like an ancient god,’ ” James read aloud, “ ‘his shoulders broad enough to carry the woes of a kingdom.’ ”
Theo snorted.
“What? You don’t want to hear the part about how I tamed the waves?” James tossed the sheet across to her. It settled on top of the plate sticky with blackberry tart.
She automatically looked down and read the description of James. “You brought home a treasure trove?”
“Well, that’s true enough,” James said. “I had Maydrop stow it in the attics until you wanted to take a look.”
Theo’s eyes had moved automatically to the paragraph beneath, the one that described a “baffled world” waiting to see whether a certain duke would realize his wife was no more than Aesop’s jay decked in borrowed plumes. They predicted he would choose to retreat, like Orpheus, to the land of the dead.
She didn’t hear James move, but the paper disappeared from before her. With a curse she’d never heard before, he tore the pages to shreds and tossed them aside.
Theo looked up. “It’s not that bad,” she said, managing to smile. “I’ve got quite used to being compared to fowl of one variety or another.”
James growled. He sounded for all the world like a crazed beast merely pretending to be a man. Scraps of newsprint were sticking to the butter, and a piece had fallen into her water glass.
“Maydrop,” she said, “if you would summon the carriage, I shall be departing in the next hour or so.”
A look of agony crossed the butler’s face. “Your Grace, I would judge that to be impossible.”
“I disagree,” she said, her voice welcoming no further assessments.
The butler actually wrung his hands, a gesture Theo had never seen him do before. “The house is under siege, Your Grace!”
A voice at her side said, “Maydrop, I will convince the duchess.” The butler and his footmen withdrew without another word as James drew her to her feet. Theo’s head whirled. How dare he order her servants about? Except they weren’t her servants; they were his.
“Come here.” James pulled her over to the window and set the curtain aside with one finger. “Look.”
Not only were people crowding the pavement, but they were thronging the street as well—and more looked to be arriving every moment. “Impossible!” Theo gasped.