Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,27
London.”
“I think that’s it, yes,” Greycourt said with a satisfied smile.
“My favorite part,” Olivia said, “is when Lady Grasping takes Lady Slyboots to Bath for the first time. They go to the Grand Pump Room to see and be seen, and Lady Grasping tells Lady Slyboots to fetch her a glass of champagne. Lady Slyboots gets what she thinks is champagne from a footman offering glasses of the mineral water, and she gives it to her mama. Of course, Lady Grasping drinks it, then spews it all over an eligible earl she’s been trying to snag for Lady Slyboots, and he walks off in a huff, with Lady Slyboots running after him offering him what she still thinks is champagne.”
Olivia sat back. “Anyway, it’s very funny when performed in the theater with good comic actresses.”
“Grey, you must take me to see one of these Juncker plays,” Beatrice said. When Olivia looked at her, astonished that the duchess hadn’t already been to one, Beatrice added, “I came to London for the first time not quite a year ago. Until then, I’d never seen a play of any kind anywhere.”
“Oh, you poor thing!” Olivia uttered a sigh. “You might have lost your chance with the Juncker ones, though. Rumor has it he isn’t planning on writing any more of them.”
“Where did you hear that?” Thorn asked.
“From one of the gossip rags, I think. Or perhaps in the theater? I don’t recall.”
“How many of these plays have there been, anyway?” Beatrice asked.
“Five, I believe,” Greycourt said.
“Six,” Thorn said. When their gazes all shot to him, he said, “What? I go to the theater often. I know the schedules for plays I’ve never even seen.”
Greycourt frowned at his brother. “Wait a minute, isn’t Juncker a friend of yours? I forgot that.”
Thorn stiffened noticeably. “A mere acquaintance, really,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Next time you see him,” Olivia said, “do ask if he plans to write any more.”
“Now I understand why you’re so annoyed by this conversation, Thorn,” Greycourt said. “You’re jealous.”
“What?” Thorn said. “Why the hell would I be jealous of Juncker?”
“Excellent point,” Olivia told Greycourt. “Your brother is a duke. I don’t see how he could be jealous of a mere playwright.”
“I’m a duke,” Greycourt said. “Trust me, we have the same human emotions as the next person. And what you don’t know about my brother is that in his salad days, Thorn dabbled in writing himself. Never could finish anything. So he’s jealous of this fellow’s success at having five whole plays in the theater—”
“Six,” Thorn said wearily.
“Right. Six,” Greycourt said. “Hmm.” He looked at Olivia. “So the gossip is that he’s not writing anymore?”
She bobbed her head.
“I can see why. Six is a damned lot of plays to write on what is essentially the same subject. I mean, how many ways can a man get into trouble in London?”
“You’d be surprised,” Thorn muttered under his breath.
“Don’t enlighten us,” Greycourt said. “You’ll scandalize the ladies.”
“Or have us clamoring to join you on your next adventure,” Beatrice said, with a wink for Olivia.
The wink startled Olivia into a laugh. She hadn’t expected to enjoy this coach ride quite so much. Apparently small talk could be delightful with the right people to share it.
“I know what we should do,” Beatrice said, a mysterious twinkle in her eyes. “We should see if we can guess which of Juncker’s adventures Thorn has also experienced.”
Thorn’s icy gaze would have frozen stone. “First of all, the adventures aren’t Juncker’s. They’re his character Felix’s. Secondly, guessing at how my adventures line up with Felix’s would be rather difficult, since the only one of us who’s seen all of Juncker’s plays is Miss Norley.”
“Fine, then Miss Norley should pick the adventure,” Beatrice said, as if that had been her aim all along. “Then we’ll guess if you ever took part in a similar one, and you can tell us who guessed right. It sounds like quite a fun game.”
“Or an absurd one,” Thorn muttered.
Greycourt lounged against the squabs. “I don’t know, old chap. I think it could be quite entertaining. And we do have a long ride ahead of us.”
Despite Thorn’s objections, Olivia was already mentally thumbing through the adventures in the plays. “How about this one? Felix gets drunk—”
“So far I can safely say that Thorn has done that, and more than once,” Greycourt said, earning him a glare from Thorn.