Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,28

courtesan,” Olivia said, “then tries to engage the lady’s services for the night.”

“Half the bucks in London have probably done that,” Greycourt said.

“I haven’t,” Thorn said. “Now can we please stop this nonsense?”

“It sounds rather clichéd, I know,” Olivia said, “but it’s really clever in the play. Felix mistakes what the countess says, and she mistakes what he says, and they go round and round for quite a while.”

“Going round and round does sound like my brother when he’s flirting with ladies,” Greycourt drawled.

“You aren’t even making sense now,” Thorn grumbled.

“Perhaps I should think of a different adventure,” Olivia said. “One that’s not so debatable.”

Then they felt the carriage slowing. Thorn looked out. “We’re at Great Chesterfield, and I’m starving. I had no breakfast. Let’s see if the innkeeper can provide us with sandwiches and a jug of ale.”

“Oh, yes, sandwiches sound heavenly,” Beatrice said. “I’m famished.”

“And no wonder,” Grey said dryly, “you only ate three eggs and sausages this morning instead of your usual five.”

“Nothing but the best for your heir,” Beatrice quipped.

Greycourt’s expression softened as his gaze dropped to his wife’s belly. “Or my pretty daughter, who I’m sure will be as clever as her mother.”

The tender moment roused a strange envy in Olivia. Her father and stepmother had never shown any such depth of feeling for each other, and neither had her father and mother, from what she could recall. Olivia had always assumed that was typical of all aristocratic unions. Indeed, the glimpses she’d had of other society marriages had only confirmed her assumption.

But watching Beatrice and Greycourt together made her wonder if she’d been wrong. Perhaps it was possible to have a different sort of marriage. Even with a duke.

Just not with Thorn, who was as prickly as his name when it came to enduring the idea of marriage.

“We do still have a few hours to go,” Greycourt said, “and we have to stop to change horses anyway. So we can have a bit of food at the inn here.” He grinned at his brother. “But don’t think you’re off the hook with our game. We can continue it once we’re back on the road.”

“Great,” Thorn said sarcastically. “I can’t wait.”

Olivia perked up considerably. This was going to be fun.

Chapter Five

Once they returned to the carriage, Thorn tried to derail his companions’ “game.” But it soon became evident it was no use. They were determined to plague him, especially Olivia, who really must have read all of his plays, because so far she’d pulled an astonishing number of adventures out of her memory.

The score was presently two correct guesses for Beatrice, four for Grey, and three for Olivia. The little baggage was proving able to guess his past activities nearly as well as his family could.

“Oh!” Olivia said brightly, “I’ve got one from the third play. Felix and a friend go to Ranelagh Gardens with their mistresses. Once there, Felix starts a rumor that the two demireps are really middle-aged but have partaken of an elixir that makes them look half their real age. When the vainest men and women of the company beg Felix for some of the elixir, he ‘reluctantly’ gives it to them.”

Olivia chuckled. “But it’s actually plum schnapps, a strong German liquor, and before long, Felix has them all drunk. He assures them that they’re now looking quite youthful. As you might imagine, that leads them into all sorts of amusing situations, with one man even telling his own servant his name, sure that he has become so youthful in appearance that the servant won’t recognize him.”

Thorn brightened. He knew this adventure very well. What’s more, Felix’s “friend” in the play was based on Grey. Thorn cast a sly look at his brother.

Grey’s face was already clouding over. “That seems like a very convoluted tale to be anything Thorn might have done.”

“I agree.” Thorn tapped his chin. “Although it does sound an awful lot like the time you and I went with Juncker to Ranelagh Gardens, along with our—”

“It does not,” Grey interrupted. “Not in the least.”

Beatrice smirked at Thorn, who winked at her. “When did the three of you go to Ranelagh Gardens?”

“It would have to have been before the place shut down in 1803,” Thorn said. “So it wasn’t long after I arrived in England, back when Grey and I used to act like feckless ruffians occasionally.”

“Very occasionally,” Grey said while glaring at Thorn.

“Then that was long before he met me.” Beatrice was clearly fighting a smile. “So, what

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