Miss Determined by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grace Burrowes

“My German is rusty,” Jeanette Dorning said. “I hope yours is in better repair.”

Jeanette’s brother, Sir Orion Goddard—he’d dropped the colonel part at some point in the past year or two—was certainly in good repair. Marriage had put the spring back in his step and the gleam in his eye, and running The Coventry Club had given him an outlet for his considerable administrative skills.

Rye had also traveled extensively on the Continent and had business contacts in several of the German states.

“I will never forget how to give commands in German,” he said, ushering Jeanette into a comfortable parlor.

Ann’s influence was evident here. A sampler on the wall held not some old quote from Proverbs, but a quote from the Bard: Love comforteth like sunshine after rain. Another hung beneath it: When love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.

Potted herbs basked on the windowsill—thyme, tarragon, basil—and a letter from the great Carême complimenting one of Anne’s sauce recipes had been framed under glass and hung beside the quotes.

On the opposite walls were sketches of children, ranging in age from toddlers to adolescents. Rye’s urchins, many of whom were on the way to self-sufficient adulthood thanks to positions at the Coventry.

Jeanette had been estranged from her brother for years, but Sycamore had given her back her family, that family being Rye and some cousins plus the urchins, the staff at the Coventry, a forest of Dornings…

The list grew year by year.

“Please read this,” she said, extracting a folded letter from her reticule. “I’m fairly certain of the meaning, but I want confirmation from somebody whose skill with languages exceeds my own.”

Rye gestured to the sofa and took the place beside her. He withdrew a pair of spectacles from an inside pocket and examined the letter. The moments ticked by, and Jeanette prayed her German had misconstrued the letter’s contents.

Rye folded up the missive and passed it back to her. “Jerome Vincent has apparently gone to his reward.”

“Oh blast. Jerome was no prize, but he was Trevor’s heir and something of a friend to him.” And a burden and a vexation. Jerome was also—had also been—the only other Vincent male and thus a theoretical buffer for Trevor against sole responsibility for the marquessate. If nothing else, Jerome had been able to commiserate with Trevor regarding the old marquess’s many shortcomings.

“What else does it say?” Jeanette asked.

“Jerome was engaged to be married to the widowed Countess of Raffensburg. She writes that she had never been so happy as she has been for the past half year. They went out riding. Jerome’s horse spooked at a rabbit, and he took a tumble and smacked his head.”

The rabbit part had eluded her. “I got most of that, but the rest of it…?”

Rye rose and crossed the room to pour two servings of brandy. He passed one to Jeanette and resumed his seat. “To Jerome’s memory.”

Jeanette sipped, because she appreciated good libation and because she needed the fortification.

“I have so much family,” she said.

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