Say No to the Duke (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #4) - Eloisa James Page 0,14
soft and compassionate voice very often.” She turned back to Adrian. “There were so many Wildes in the nursery, you know. She had to bellow at us daily.”
Aunt Knowe burst into laughter, snapped her fan shut, and rapped Betsy on the shoulder. “Wicked girl, I always present the image of a soft and tender lady.” Nodding briskly to Adrian, she drew Betsy away. “Do you realize that you are the only angel to have endured the entire ball with a perfectly erect halo? I can always count on you to outdo your rivals.”
“Millinery is not a blood sport, Aunt Knowe,” Betsy observed. “It’s absurd to congratulate me for such a foolish reason.”
“Oh, fudge,” her aunt said. “I gather you are not in a good mood. I recognize that look from your childhood. Create all the scandals you wish, once you have a husband to protect you from the world’s opinion.”
“I don’t need a husband,” Betsy protested. “I have Father, and a million brothers, and you. That’s enough.”
Aunt Knowe ignored her comment. “Your father thinks Greywick would be a good husband for you. I agree, as you could tell, since I sent the two of you off together. Needless to say, the ballroom was transfixed by your absence. Did you play a round of billiards? Perhaps more to the point, did you win?”
“We did not play billiards,” Betsy said, rather surprised. “I thought you sent me off to receive his proposal.”
“Naturally, I knew Greywick would blurt that out, but the more important question was whether he could beat you at billiards, no? I rather thought you might be there all night if he had to try more than once. I was merely hoping that the boy had a way with a cue. And,” she added, “that was not meant to be a double entendre.”
“I did not play billiards with the viscount,” Betsy said. “When did that become a good standard for choosing a spouse, Aunt Knowe? If that was customary, I’d have married Parth, even though Lavinia would have murdered me. He’s the only man outside the family to have soundly beaten me.”
“The standard would pertain only to your marriage,” her aunt said. “Billiards is so important to you, my dear, though Parth would have been a terrible husband for you. First of all, he’s your brother by family ties, if not blood. And second, he’s too cheerful.”
Prism, the castle butler, was ushering the musicians from the ballroom. It truly was time to leave; for a young lady to remain to the end of a party implied desperation.
“I like cheerful people,” Betsy said flatly, turning toward the ballroom door. “I don’t want to face a morose man over the dinner table every night for the rest of my life.”
She didn’t voice it, but an image of grumpy eyes went through her head, followed directly by Jeremy’s taut stomach. One day she’d walked up to the stable yard just as he caught a fresh shirt tossed by a groom.
Not that it was relevant in any way, but his stomach had chiseled muscles all down his front, his chest roughened by a light sprinkling of hair.
Aunt Knowe patted her on the shoulder. “Of course you do, darling. All the same, one could make an argument that you bounce enough for one household.”
Betsy narrowed her eyes at her beloved aunt. “I do not bounce.”
“Wrong word,” her aunt said. “Fell off my tongue, when I meant to say that you bubble with joy.”
Betsy shook her head. There was nothing wrong with being cheerful. It was a perfect defense against the world’s indignities.
Aunt Knowe didn’t say anything, but just enfolded Betsy in her arms. After Yvette, Betsy’s mother, left the country, Aunt Knowe had happily mothered Her Grace’s children.
She was as sturdy as an ancient oak tree. She smelled of chamomile and sweet ginger and felt like home.
“I don’t want to marry any of them,” Betsy whispered.
“You needn’t, dearest,” her aunt said, rocking her back and forth. “You can stay with me. I’ll teach you how to dry herbs, and we need never leave Cheshire.”
Then she roared with laughter as Betsy pulled back, horrified by the idea of growing old at Lindow Castle.
“I always thought you were more like Alaric than the other children,” Aunt Knowe observed. “Longing for adventure, I gather?”
“Yes.” It was true. Betsy had mastered the rules of polite society because she had to. But she wanted . . . more.
More than billiard games late at night, usually played by herself.