A Truly Perfect Gentleman by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Grace Burrowes Publishing

“We must decide,” Anastasia announced. “Mama has said that Casriel’s manners are exquisite, that he has vast acreage, and his title is old and respected. He’s not some first Baron of Lesser Thistledown. His sister married a nabob-ish fellow who is rumored to invest on behalf of dear King George. The family has wealth, even if Casriel is pockets to let at present.”

Drusilla set aside the latest installment of The Lady’s At-Home, not that yet another syllabub recipe made for riveting literature. When Anastasia said something must be decided, she usually meant she had reached a decision, and Drusilla’s role was to agree with her before they presented the matter to Mama.

“What, exactly, are we deciding now?”

“Which one of us will marry Casriel, of course. He’s had enough dances with Lady Antonia and played enough cards with Miss Quinlan. We must act, sister dear, and act decisively.”

Anastasia paced the parlor in an unladylike fashion, another portent of bad tidings.

“He played cards with us before he played cards with La Quinlan, Ana. He walked the lake path with us and declined to accompany Miss Quinlan and her mama.” Drusilla had liked his lordship for that, liked how he’d simply done the polite thing and thwarted a woman too intent on her own wishes. Though as to that, Anastasia was sounding rather determined.

“But he did escort Lady Antonia, Dru. She’s rather old to fill up his nursery. That’s a point against her.”

Her ladyship was too wealthy to be discounted, also a decent person. “I think Casriel would make a good papa.”

“I knew it!” Anastasia plopped onto the sofa, her skirts billowing then settling like laundry in a breeze. “You regard Casriel the way a woman considers a prospective husband. You should marry him, Dru.”

The rumor in the ladies’ retiring room was that Casriel was a father—only the one by-blow, though.

“One of us should marry him,” Drusilla said, “and you would make a more impressive countess than I would.” Sometimes, Anastasia could be flattered out of her convictions.

“I cannot argue with you about the countess part, but you will learn to deal with him. He doesn’t strike me as a difficult man, provided he’s allowed to do whatever it is men get up to when not waltzing or playing cards. Perhaps he votes his seat.”

“Papa said Casriel minds his acres. Do you suppose his lordship rides about the shire, looking well mannered and titled?”

Though Casriel did not look all that titled. His dress was conservative to the point of boredom. He wore little jewelry—a ring, a pocket watch with fob, a cravat pin—and he smelled of shaving soap rather than exotic French perfume or imported pomade. He was also a largish fellow, whose complexion bore evidence of having spent time in the sun. Mama called him a dragoon of an earl.

“He’ll drive you about the neighborhood if you’re his countess,” Anastasia said. “You’d like that, playing lady of the manor.”

Dru would be the lady of the manor if she married Casriel, and that was worth considering.

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