Frederica in Fashion Read Online Free

give you the right to ask me personal questions when we have not even been introduced. But, as a matter of fact, I am waiting for my father. He is to join me here and escort me home.’
    ‘Home being where?’
    ‘Do stop asking questions,’ said Frederica crossly.
    The Duke of Pembury raised his thin eyebrows. He had never in all his life been so snubbed by any female, young or old.
    ‘My name is Pembury,’ he said haughtily.
    ‘Well, Mr Pembury …’ began Frederica maliciously.
    ‘I am the Duke of Pembury. I own all the land about here.’
    ‘I do not know whether you expect congratulations ,’ said Frederica, ‘but since you probably inherited it all from your father, you were no doubt simply trying to impress me.’
    ‘Impress you . My dear girl, I am not in the way of trying to impress anyone.’
    ‘Really? You surprise me.’
    The duke glared at her, and then he smiled. ‘I have never before met anyone who managed to make me feel quite so pompous or so ancient.’
    Good-naturedly, Frederica smiled back, that wide, enchanting smile of hers that lit up her whole face.
    ‘You are not very old,’ she said in a kind voice.
    ‘I am over thirty.’
    ‘Never mind. You do not show your years at all , I assure you.’
    ‘Thank you,’ he said dryly. ‘You have not told me your name.’
    ‘Miss Frederica Armitage.’
    ‘Armitage? Not the famous Hopeworth Armitages?’
    ‘No,’ lied Frederica. ‘Hopeminster. But I am not related to the Hopeworth Armitages.’
    ‘I thought not.’
    ‘No,’ said Frederica’s canary-wine-loosened tongue pertly. ‘I am not pretty enough.’
    ‘I did not say so.’
    ‘But you thought it.’
    ‘Odd’s fish, girl, did that seminary of yours not teach you to put a curb on your unruly tongue?’
    Frederica flushed slightly. ‘I think I have had rather too much wine to drink,’ she said candidly. ‘I am not in the way of drinking wine.’
    He studied her curiously and found himself wondering about the colour of her eyes. A moment before, when she had smiled, they had seemed blue, then, when she was angry or upset, they turned a silvery colour. Most odd.
    ‘Do you have many servants?’ she asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Are you a good master?’
    ‘I employ good masters. I make a point of seeing that my servants are well-fed and well-dressed.’
    ‘Do you like them? Your servants?’
    ‘ Like them?’ Again the thin eyebrows went up. ‘My dear child, I do not hire help or have help hired because of charm or popularity. A man or woman must be neat, unobtrusive, and hard-working.’
    ‘Why are you called the Wicked Duke?’
    ‘Because of the follies of my youth. I was very wild.’
    ‘And now you are reformed?’ Frederica sounded a shade disappointed.
    ‘No, merely staid and old, Miss Armitage. Pray drink some lemonade and leave that wine alone or goodness knows what you will ask me next.’
    ‘Are you much at home?’ pursued Frederica, pushing away the wine decanter and dutifully filling a glass with lemonade.
    He smiled. ‘No, I travel a great deal. I shall shortly be leaving for London to be there when the Season begins.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘That is quite enough. I have indulged you sufficiently. Oh, dear, how oddly you look at me. I am looking for a wife, and a wife is usually to be found at the Season.’
    ‘But there are ladies everywhere.’
    ‘None, perhaps, suitable to my rank.’
    ‘Surely character and … and … a pleasing manner, and honesty … and … and oh, humour and things like that are of more importance than rank.’
    ‘I have a very large establishment. The lady I marry would need to be a good hostess, witty, well-dressed, and amusing.’
    Frederica fell silent.
    She felt she ought to leave. She obscurely felt this sinister-looking duke was dangerous. But she was aware of his gaze on her and she felt too self-conscious to rise from the table.
    ‘And you, Miss Armitage,’ came his voice, ‘do you plan to visit London this Season?’
    ‘No, I