Say No to the Duke by James Eloisa

Author:James, Eloisa
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2019-06-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

They gathered for dinner in the inn dining room, and even Grégoire Bisset-Caron joined them, complaining of a cold but never sniffling.

The duchess carried the conversation through the first course, as she had apparently decided to woo Betsy by describing Thaddeus’s innate aptitude for being a duke, on display from the age of two months.

Betsy listened carefully to the story of Thaddeus’s generosity toward an orphaned hedgehog, but she allowed her mind to wander when his mother described his courage after being stricken with ringworm.

“His beautiful curls fell off in patches all over his scalp,” the duchess lamented.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Thaddeus groaned under his breath.

Betsy liked him for that, because he was irritated but didn’t cut his mother off.

The ringworm finally vanquished, the marquess entered the lists, and the table was treated to the harrowing tale of Jeremy’s childhood bout of mumps.

“You’ve missed the point,” Jeremy observed, when the story of bulbous glands wound down. “You forgot to say how wildly courageous I was in the face of near death.”

“Death?” His father snorted. “You were a frightfully naughty child, but your disobedience wasn’t fatal or near to it.”

“I notice you are not mentioning my cousin’s service in the colonies,” Grégoire said.

Jeremy smiled faintly. “Mumps is easier to excuse.”

“Nonsense,” the marquess said, frowning mightily at his son. “Your military service earned you a rare mention in the dispatches, even if you chose to ignore it.”

The duchess nimbly jumped in at this point and launched into a tale about Thaddeus’s remarkable talent at the billiard table.

“As has my son,” the marquess said mulishly.

Each story the duchess told was capped with a parallel. Thaddeus was brave; so was Jeremy.

Both men greeted these stories with silence, but Betsy noticed that Grégoire was becoming more peevish with every passing minute.

“I find tales of childish heroics frightfully tedious,” he said after a third glass of wine.

“Do you indeed?” the duchess asked, dangerous quiet in her voice.

But Grégoire had apparently reached the point of inebriation at which one no longer pays attention to disapproval, even when wielded by those at the very top of polite society. “Who cares if a boy was brave when he fell into a horse pond?” he demanded, waving his wineglass. “The real test of a man is how he behaves as a man.”

“I take it you are accusing me of lack of courage,” Jeremy said with complete indifference. “I will readily admit to being terrified on the battlefield.”

“That says a great deal about you, doesn’t it?” Grégoire replied with a smirk. “In school, I was forced to memorize a speech given by your namesake, Lady Boadicea. Jeremy could have used it to rally his men rather than leaving them to die.” He leapt to his feet and struck a pose. “Have no fear whatever of the Romans; for they are superior to us neither in numbers nor in bravery.”

Aunt Knowe turned to the marquess. “Have you ever suspected that there may be madness in your family?”

“We’re all mad as March hares,” Grégoire said, seating himself.

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