John straightened, dropping his hands from her body. “Yes?’ he asked the footman.
“Lady Mary Cavindish is here to see you, my lord. Shall I show her in?”
“Straight away. And send up refreshments, as well.”
Missing his heat, Netta turned.
John rocked up on his toes, his eyes crinkling at the corners, looking much too happy to see this visitor.
All of her remaining warmth seeped away. “Who is Lady Mary Cavindish?” If her voice was waspish, it couldn’t be helped. She plucked the book from her head.
“A very dear friend,” he said, “and someone who I thought could help you with your lessons in deportment.”
She tapped the book against her thigh. A female friend who had the grace, elegance, and intelligence to assist her in becoming a lady? Netta narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t wait to meet such a friend. To have earned the earl’s approval, the woman must be something special.
She probably had a bosom up to her chin.
An older woman with ivory hair peeking from her lace cap and spectacles perched on her nose toddled into the room.
Or not.
“Auntie May!” John swooped down on her. “How lovely to see you again. You are looking as beautiful as a dew-flecked rose.”
She raised her cheek for his kiss. “I won ten pounds off you at whist just last week. Such an effusive greeting is hardly necessary. Neither is such flattery appropriate.”
He patted her hand. “Where you are concerned, flattery is always appropriate.”
The older woman shook her head, but the soft skin of her cheeks was decidedly pink. “Tosh. Now, what am I doing here? Are you finally going to call in your loan on my club?”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “You wound me. I would never do anything so boorish.” He winked at the woman. “Or so unprofitable.” Tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, he led her across the room to Netta.
“May I present Miss Netta Dudley.”
Dudley? Netta wrinkled her nose.
“Miss Reed?”
Netta tapped her finger against her lips before shaking her head. Her character really didn’t feel like a Reed.
He sighed. “We’re still working on the name. Meet Netta. Netta, this is Lady Mary, or Auntie May to those of us who used to run through her gardens chasing Sheba, her long-haired cat.”
Lady Mary hooted. “How my cat hated you and Marcus. I’d forgotten all about that.” She peered about the floor. “Speaking of cats, where’s yours? This is a new dress. I don’t want your beast ruining it.”
“She’s outside in the gardens.” John settled Lady Mary on a velvet chair. “Your skirts are safe.”
Remembering her act, Netta dropped into an inelegant curtsy. “Good afternoon, Lady Mary.Hhow wonderful to make your acquaintance.” She looked to John and frowned when he wobbled his hand from side to side. That enunciation had been just shy of perfect.
Lady Mary cocked her head. “What are you up to, Johnnie?”
Johnnie?Netta swished her skirts back and took the seat opposite the woman. “Yes, Johnnie. What are your plans?”
He draped himself on the settee, his coquelicot-colored jacket a perfect match for the stitching running through the gold damask sofa. He stabbed a finger in Netta’s direction. “If my instruction has taught you anything, it is that you do not get to call me by my given name.”
“But you call me Netta.” She widened her eyes, trying and failing at looking innocent. She gave up the attempt and smirked. “Surely it is only fair that I use your Christian name, as well.”
“I like this one.” Lady Mary jabbed a finger at Netta. “She’s not like those beef-witted women who usually hang off of you.”
“Yes.” Summerset pressed his lips together. “But she still maintains all the sauce even without the meat. She has yet to learn that a little impudence goes a long way.” He inclined his head, like the king to a subject. “You may call me John when we are within these walls.”
