Read Online Accidentally in Love by Claudia Dain - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claudia Dain
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Sig said, giving up on the bookcase and walking to a display case with a beaver skeleton carefully labeled and preserved. “Do you think this is a mature beaver? Do you know if the males are larger than the females?”
“I don’t know,” Kit said. To all of it. He knew nothing of beavers and he had no idea why he had to leave Town. His mother had pronounced it and he had been so shamed by the episode at Melverley House that he had allowed her to continue the thought. She was still abed or he was certain she would already have put action to the thought.
He didn’t have to leave Town. He was not being forced. He didn’t have to leave Emeline to face London, and Lord Raithby, without him. He could do as he wished. Whatever he wished.
And he knew precisely what he wished to do.
“Where is Emeline now?” he said, getting to his feet.
The boys turned to him in unison, their faces breaking into simultaneous grins.
“She’s gone to Madame Lacroix’s. It’s a millinery shop,” Pip said.
“I know it,” Kit said, walking to the door.
“Are you not leaving London after all?” Harry said.
Kit turned at the doorway to face them, these boys he had treated and loved as brothers for as long as he could remember. But Emeline was not his sister. She never had been. She never could be.
Praise all that was holy for that.
“I am not leaving London. No can make me do anything. I did not strike the footman. I have not, yet, struck anyone,” he said.
“What about Lord Raithby?” Harry said, looking entirely too excited by the notion.
“That,” Kit said, smiling, “remains to be seen.”
“I can assure you that no one at Melverley House blames Mr. Culley in the least degree,” Eleanor said, their heads nearly touching over a selection of ribbons. Mama was only a few feet from them, talking with Madame Lacroix. “The footman, Ben Skrewd, was not at all appropriate for the position. He’s been sacked.”
“Skrewd?” Emeline asked.
“An old Norse name, I’m told,” Eleanor answered. “Is it true that Mr. Culley will be leaving Town over this?”
“Apparently so.”
“Perhaps I should say something to discourage him?”
Emeline looked at Eleanor, her blue eyes, for once, not glimmering. “What could you possibly say? And why would you want to say anything at all?”
Eleanor leaned back, tossing aside a deep green ribbon as she did so. “Would you not prefer that he stay?”
Emeline did not often blush. She did not enjoy the experience in the least. She refused to blush now, though it was an effort.
“I don’t believe my preferences play any part in Mr. Culley’s decisions,” she said.
Eleanor shook her head. “With that sort of attitude, you shall never get what you want.”
“And what do you think I want?”
“Not Mr. Culley?”
That was it. Emeline blushed in a hot wave of scarlet. She was certain of it.
Before she was required to answer, the door to the shop opened and the most sophisticated, elegant lady entered, Lord Raithby trailing behind her like a pet. Lord Raithby looked as sharply handsome as always, his coat nut brown, his waistcoat sapphire blue, his cravat impossibly intricate. The lady was black of hair and eye, white of skin, and superior in manner. Madame Lacroix abruptly deserted Mama and made her way to the lady on quick feet.
“Lady Dalby, you are most welcome,” Madame said. “How may I serve you?”
Lady Dalby. Even in Wiltshire Sophia Dalby was famous. She had been a courtesan until she had decided to become a countess, choosing the Earl of Dalby to provide her with that honor. She was a widow now, but never acted like one. At least, according to every rumor of her, she never acted the way Mrs. Culley acted in her widowhood.
“Excuse me, Madame,” Lady Dalby said, “I see a dear friend is here. Please, continue on. I shall let you know when I need you.”
“Indeed, my lady,” Madame said, and with a quick bob of her head she returned to Mama,
“I don’t know,” Kit said. To all of it. He knew nothing of beavers and he had no idea why he had to leave Town. His mother had pronounced it and he had been so shamed by the episode at Melverley House that he had allowed her to continue the thought. She was still abed or he was certain she would already have put action to the thought.
He didn’t have to leave Town. He was not being forced. He didn’t have to leave Emeline to face London, and Lord Raithby, without him. He could do as he wished. Whatever he wished.
And he knew precisely what he wished to do.
“Where is Emeline now?” he said, getting to his feet.
The boys turned to him in unison, their faces breaking into simultaneous grins.
“She’s gone to Madame Lacroix’s. It’s a millinery shop,” Pip said.
“I know it,” Kit said, walking to the door.
“Are you not leaving London after all?” Harry said.
Kit turned at the doorway to face them, these boys he had treated and loved as brothers for as long as he could remember. But Emeline was not his sister. She never had been. She never could be.
Praise all that was holy for that.
“I am not leaving London. No can make me do anything. I did not strike the footman. I have not, yet, struck anyone,” he said.
“What about Lord Raithby?” Harry said, looking entirely too excited by the notion.
“That,” Kit said, smiling, “remains to be seen.”
“I can assure you that no one at Melverley House blames Mr. Culley in the least degree,” Eleanor said, their heads nearly touching over a selection of ribbons. Mama was only a few feet from them, talking with Madame Lacroix. “The footman, Ben Skrewd, was not at all appropriate for the position. He’s been sacked.”
“Skrewd?” Emeline asked.
“An old Norse name, I’m told,” Eleanor answered. “Is it true that Mr. Culley will be leaving Town over this?”
“Apparently so.”
“Perhaps I should say something to discourage him?”
Emeline looked at Eleanor, her blue eyes, for once, not glimmering. “What could you possibly say? And why would you want to say anything at all?”
Eleanor leaned back, tossing aside a deep green ribbon as she did so. “Would you not prefer that he stay?”
Emeline did not often blush. She did not enjoy the experience in the least. She refused to blush now, though it was an effort.
“I don’t believe my preferences play any part in Mr. Culley’s decisions,” she said.
Eleanor shook her head. “With that sort of attitude, you shall never get what you want.”
“And what do you think I want?”
“Not Mr. Culley?”
That was it. Emeline blushed in a hot wave of scarlet. She was certain of it.
Before she was required to answer, the door to the shop opened and the most sophisticated, elegant lady entered, Lord Raithby trailing behind her like a pet. Lord Raithby looked as sharply handsome as always, his coat nut brown, his waistcoat sapphire blue, his cravat impossibly intricate. The lady was black of hair and eye, white of skin, and superior in manner. Madame Lacroix abruptly deserted Mama and made her way to the lady on quick feet.
“Lady Dalby, you are most welcome,” Madame said. “How may I serve you?”
Lady Dalby. Even in Wiltshire Sophia Dalby was famous. She had been a courtesan until she had decided to become a countess, choosing the Earl of Dalby to provide her with that honor. She was a widow now, but never acted like one. At least, according to every rumor of her, she never acted the way Mrs. Culley acted in her widowhood.
“Excuse me, Madame,” Lady Dalby said, “I see a dear friend is here. Please, continue on. I shall let you know when I need you.”
“Indeed, my lady,” Madame said, and with a quick bob of her head she returned to Mama,
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