Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,83
from? Who are his parents?”
“He’s from Scotland originally, though he came to London after his mother died when he was ten. I know nothing of his father.” She frowned at James. “And if you dare to make any more snide remarks about his low birth, I shall never come to visit again.”
“Ah, how prettily you defend him. Could it be a love match, then? Not the forced marriage that has so enraged my father?”
She felt a flush climb to her cheeks. “I’m content with Drake, and we shall leave it at that. I would have brought him here to meet you, but—”
“But the old man would have aimed the wrong end of a dueling pistol at him.” James leveled his finger at her and pretended to pull the trigger.
“Don’t exaggerate,” Alicia said, though she felt uneasy. “I know the marquess doesn’t approve of my husband, but I can’t imagine him reacting in violence.”
“Yet wouldn’t it be interesting to find out for certain?” James eyed her with a sly, almost secretive smile. Then he shrugged, picking at the fringe on his blanket. “Ah, well, it’s a pity you didn’t bring Wilder, after all. Father had an appointment with his tailor this afternoon.”
“Be sure to give him my greetings when he returns.”
“He’ll be sorry to have missed you. He hasn’t been very happy about losing you to a man like Wilder. As for me … I’ve been disconsolate over losing you as my stepmama.”
Was he teasing? He must be. “Well,” she said lightly, “the only person I brought with me, you don’t wish to see.”
His brief playfulness vanished and his mouth settled into a sullen line. “Poor duchess,” he said with biting sarcasm. “It must be trying for her, having to wait downstairs when she wanted to glean a few juicy tidbits of gossip.”
“Nonsense,” Alicia said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “Sarah came with me because we’re going to Bond Street.”
“Ah, shopping. That bubble-brained ninny will be in her favorite milieu.”
“Sarah is an intelligent woman. She’d probably enjoy our literary discussions.” Unwilling to tolerate another nasty comment, Alicia changed the subject. “Tell me, have you read any more of Carter’s Epictetus?”
His wide shoulders lifted in a moody shrug. “What’s the use of studying the opinions of dead philosophers?”
“It’s a challenge that will exercise your mind.”
“It’s a waste of time and energy.”
“But it’s better than brooding in the dark.” Rising, she went to a circular bookstand near the chaise longue and plucked out a leather-bound volume. “I’ll read to you for a while if you like. There’s a passage here about the free will of man—”
Before she could find the page, he grabbed the book. “Everyone is always wanting to read to me. As if I’m a bloody idiot.”
Heedlessly, he tossed the volume over his shoulder and hit a vase behind him. The porcelain shattered against the wall. Purple irises flew in all directions, and water dripped onto the opened book.
Alicia gasped. “James!” As she hastened to pick up the book, she caught a flash of movement through the doorway.
“You are a bloody idiot,” Sarah said. “In addition to being an ill-natured boor.”
She glided into the sitting room, looking very inch the duchess, with her upswept sable hair and gown of primrose muslin, the deep scooped décolletage revealing her creamy bosom and swanlike neck. James sat utterly still. His upper body was rigid with shock, his legs lying useless on the gold-striped cushions.
Sarah stopped at the end of the chaise and regarded him. “Are you over your tantrum yet?” she said, languidly removing her gloves. “Or shall I fetch your nursemaid?”
“How dare you presume to come in here,” he snapped. “And to insult me in my own house.”
“Oh, is that privilege reserved for you, then? Am I to stand here meekly and let you take your shots? Well, I am no bubble-brained ninny to do so.”
Setting down the book, Alicia hastened to her side. Though privately she agreed with Sarah, she also understood that James’s anger rose partly from embarrassment. “Please, let’s go. I’ll return tomorrow—alone.”
“Oh, but I should like to visit with my dear friend,” the duchess said, sitting on a gilt chair and serenely arranging her skirt. “I must say, James, you’ve changed. You never used to be so rude and unmannerly.”
“Nor did you, Sarah,” Alicia chided.
But neither of them were listening.
James glowered at the duchess. “Of course, I’m no longer the man I was,” he bit out. “Look at me. I’m crippled.”