Beauty Tempts the Beast (Sins for All Seasons #6) - Lorraine Heath Page 0,58

take my business elsewhere if you inform me this chit is indeed one of your clients.” Lady Jocelyn stood before her appearing offended and righteous at the same time, her nose tipped up so high and haughtily that Althea wouldn’t have been surprised to discover she caused a crick in her neck.

Before Beth could respond, Althea said, “You look well, Lady Jocelyn.”

As impossible as she’d thought it to be, the nose went up a tad higher. “I do not as a rule address traitors, but I am rather certain I am glowing as a result of my recent betrothal and upcoming nuptials. Perhaps you’ve heard. I’m to marry Chadbourne.”

She hadn’t. Although she’d expected that eventually he would marry if for no other reason than to gain an heir and that it would hurt when she caught wind of it. Surprisingly, the blow was not as powerful as she’d anticipated. Yet, she knew not one iota of what she was feeling showed upon her face. “My condolences. It cannot be an easy thing to take to husband a man who has not the strength of character to honor his word or his commitments. When life throws him a challenge, it seems he is quick to run.”

Lady Jocelyn was not as skilled at hiding her emotions. If the fire in her eyes was any indication, she was livid. “He is quick to realize he deserves a woman of the highest caliber, not one who comes from a line of treasonous scapegraces.”

“You have always tended to exaggerate. A line? There was only one.”

“Who is to say you will not produce another?” She held up her hand with such speed, it created a breeze. “Enough. I will engage with you no further. It is beneath me to speak to a person of such low character. Beth, if you intend to outfit her, the trousseau you are creating for me will go unpurchased.”

Althea was familiar with the cost of a trousseau. She had been planning her own before her father spoiled things. She couldn’t have Beth sacrifice those coins. “No, actually—”

“Yes,” Beth interrupted. “I am creating magnificent frocks and gowns for her.” She turned to Althea. “We shall have the fitting Friday, and everything will be ready next week.”

“Beth—”

“’Tis done.” She gave her attention back to Lady Jocelyn. “Do not worry yourself needlessly about your beautiful trousseau, Lady Jocelyn. I shall donate it to a mission that caters to the poor. I’m certain there are women aplenty who can make use of the items my ladies and I spent hours stitching. I wish you all the best. Good day.”

Flabbergasted. That was how Lady Jocelyn appeared, and Althea was relatively certain her once-dear friend had never had someone below her in station speak to her as though she were above her in station. She wanted to hug Beth.

“I’m certain the Duchess of Thornley will not be at all happy to hear of this development as I came to you based upon her recommendation.” Lady Jocelyn turned on her heel and went for the door, only to find it blocked by Benedict, his arms crossed over his chest. Althea was quite familiar with that implacable stance.

“You owe Miss Stanwick an apology. Her father was treasonous, not her.”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“I’m making her my business.”

While she couldn’t see Lady Jocelyn’s face, Althea was rather certain she was bestowing upon Benedict a hard stare capable of shooting daggers because she’d seen it many times in her past. The woman didn’t like being challenged. “You look familiar.” She lifted a finger, wagged it at him. “You’re one of those Trewlove bastards.”

She spat bastards as though it left a foul taste in her mouth and might cause her to cast up her accounts. Apparently, it had yet to register with her that the Duchess of Thornley, whose name she’d tossed out imperiously as though she were related to the Queen, was a Trewlove as well and considered this man her brother. But it wasn’t the reason Althea stepped forward. She did it because she didn’t want to see him hurt for a kindness he’d shown her. Although it took everything within her not to grab the woman’s hair and yank her back. “Jocelyn, you have no call to insult him.”

“It’s Lady Jocelyn to you.”

“No insult,” he said evenly. “’Tis true. I am a bastard, born on the wrong side of the blanket, with no earthly idea who my parents might be, but my manners far exceed