Love Match Read Online Free Page B

thoughtfulness—had he not banished her to her bedchamber as if she were an inconvenient child.
    She lifted the soapy sponge to her chest, smoothed it down her arms. St. Clair was accustomed to having all his whims gratified. Maman had said he would expect the same unquestioning obedience from his wife.
    Maman had also said that when a gentleman married a damsel for her fortune, that damsel could consequently expect no rude awakenings. “Hah!” But in all fairness, Maman could hardly have anticipated that Elizabeth would find two extraneous females residing beneath her husband’s roof, one a relative and the other definitely not, for to embrace a relative like that green-eyed temptress had embraced St. Clair must be against the law.
    Elizabeth raised one foot out of the water, and applied the soapy sponge. Lady Augusta, at least, wasn’t eager to do her cousin’s bidding. Elizabeth found herself briefly in charity with that disagreeable female. She was not in charity with the exotic creature Mr. Slyte had referred to as “Mouse.”
    Obviously, this Mouse female was no stranger to either Mr. Slyte or Lord Charnwood. Mr. Slyte, however, had not closeted himself with her. Unlike the blasted duke. Perhaps it was the long carriage journey combined with the various trying events of the day that had so overset Elizabeth’s equilibrium. She could not recall that she had ever before wished so strongly to wring someone’s—anyone’s!—neck. The sponge slipped out of her fingers, and landed on the floor.
    Daphne re-entered the chamber, followed by a maidservant carrying a tray. The housemaid set down her burden, curtsied, and withdrew. The abigail held up a large towel and wrapped it around her mistress as she climbed out of the bath. “Well, Daphne, we have grown very grand,” said Elizabeth as the abigail patted her dry, slipped a nightgown over her head, and seated her before the dressing table with its array of glass bottles and flasks. “What are they saying belowstairs?”
    Daphne met her mistress’s gaze in the oval glass. She looked her usual practical red-haired self. Her mistress, however, looked pale and drawn. “Little that I’ve been able to hear, Miss Elizabeth—I mean, Your Grace. I’m a stranger to them, so they don’t talk in front of me. That Magda woman is known to the staff. At least to the housekeeper and butler and cook.”
    That Magda person was better known to St. Clair than was his wife. A pity he hadn’t married her. Elizabeth reached for the refreshment tray, on which sat a pot of chocolate and a plate of digestive biscuits.
    Digestive biscuits? The entire household did know of her adventures along the Bath Road. After those adventures, Elizabeth would have liked to enjoy a proper meal. Boiled salmon and dressed cucumber with anchovy sauce. Roast loin of veal. Artichoke bottoms. Followed by a rhubarb tart.
    Her stomach protested. She picked up a digestive biscuit and nibbled at it cautiously.
    Daphne had already seen her mistress’s belongings unpacked and stowed away in the tallboy and wardrobe, had arranged the dressing chamber to her liking. Now she unpinned Elizabeth’s long hair and picked up a silver-backed hairbrush. Lady Ratchett had been all cock-a-hoop that her daughter had made so illustrious a match, and determined the new duchess should do nothing for which her mama might blush. Daphne had been instructed to inform Lady Ratchett immediately if Elizabeth made a misstep.
    There was nothing new in this; Daphne had been frequently quizzed by her ladyship in the past. In Miss Elizabeth’s place, Daphne would have married Old Nick himself to get out of that house. Though Lord Charnwood might be a duke of the first stare, he could only be cast into the shade by Lady Ratchett when it came to raking a body over the coals.
    Gently, she drew the brush through her mistress’s hair. Daphne was handmaiden to a duchess now, and no longer dwelt under Lady Ratchett’s roof. Whatever she