Say No to the Duke (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #4) - Eloisa James Page 0,11
corridor. The doors of Lindow Castle were hopelessly narrow, given the current fashion for skirts the width of three women.
Behind her, the viscount bid Jeremy goodbye. Affection deepened his voice and made him far more appealing than did his title or estate. A man who remained friends with a reprobate like Jeremy might not have very good sense, but he had loyalty.
The Wildes valued loyalty above all else. Loyalty to the family, obviously, but also to friends.
“Thank you for showing me the billiard table,” Thaddeus said to her, once he had emerged from the room.
“Wouldn’t gratitude be in order if I had accepted your proposal?” Betsy said, starting to walk down the corridor. “I am still unconvinced we would suit.”
“I never expected you to accept my hand tonight,” Thaddeus said, laughter gleaming in his eyes. “A lady of your stature must be won by a lengthy campaign.”
Betsy blinked at him, rather surprised. Apparently, Thaddeus had no plans to retreat, the way her other suitors had. Occasionally a man watched her mournfully from the side of the ballroom after she refused a proposal, but generally they accepted her word on the matter and never broached the subject again.
“I’m not very good at accepting no for an answer,” the viscount added. His smile was not wide, not overly confident, not arrogant. “Jeremy and I were well-matched in that. He could never bear to lose, and neither could I. We pitted ourselves against each other throughout our boyhoods.”
“I am not the prize in some schoolboy contest,” she said.
“Certainly not,” the viscount said. “I am merely saying that I refined the art of never giving up while arguing with Jeremy.” They had walked quite a ways before he said, “Though I think obstinacy is giving my old friend great pain these days. Stubborn people are particularly likely to curse fate rather than accept it.”
“I believe his . . . his discomfort stems from unfortunate experiences during the war. I know that my brother North finds himself unable to sleep on occasion.”
She was privately convinced that even before today’s marriage, North’s fiancée, Diana, had learned the trick of exhausting him.
So to speak.
North didn’t look nearly as tired in the last few months, whereas Jeremy had black smudges under his eyes.
“As a schoolboy, Lord Jeremy was the most blindly loyal man of us all. Such a man would find it hard to tolerate losses amongst his fellow men, let alone those who served under him.”
Betsy nodded.
“I would include his horse in the number,” Thaddeus said. “He loved that mare. He boarded her at school, obviously, but most boys left care of their horseflesh to the grooms. Lord Jeremy visited Dolly every day. We were fed horrible slop, but he spent his pocket money on carrots and occasionally a lump of sugar.”
“Oh, dear,” Betsy said.
“He was rather unkind to you,” Thaddeus said. “This may seem absurd, but if you are able, you might take it as a sign of his esteem.”
“I don’t return that esteem,” she said tartly.
It wasn’t precisely true. But it was safer to claim not to like Jeremy. More comfortable.
She couldn’t imagine a worse fate than having an evil-tongued aristocrat with a dark soul and a penchant for drink jumping to the conclusion that she was infatuated with him.
She’d never hear the end of it.
“I entirely understand. Any young lady would be affronted by his appalling manners. I apologize for not taking you away immediately.”
Betsy looked at him, raised an eyebrow. “I did not wish to go.”
Thaddeus blinked and visibly absorbed the fact that she was not a woman who needed to be rescued from discomfort that society had decreed she must be experiencing. “I gather from Lord Jeremy’s praise that you are a superb horsewoman?” he asked, making a quick recovery.
“I am,” Betsy admitted. “We were raised partly in the nursery and partly in the stables. North was always fascinated by horses, and we younger children used to follow the older boys about like ducklings. Do you enjoy riding?”
“I do. The happiest hours of my childhood were spent with our stable master, Barnes. He taught me a great deal about life. Eton was all very well in its way, but the most important lessons are learned at home.”
“I and my sisters had governesses, but then we were sent to a seminary for girls,” Betsy said. “It was an unusual choice for a duke’s progeny, but I loved it there, after a few growing pains. As you say, the lessons I learned were invaluable.”