“She appeared fashionable when I met her. Not impoverished.”
“She has a knack with a needle that means she can turn herself out well enough to be comfortable with the friends of her youth. Now, tell me about this house.” She changed the subject quickly because speaking about Althea had moved them close to the workings of the journal.
Althea indeed had talent in needlework, but that was not how she maintained her appearance. That was a fiction designed to explain to everyone, but especially to her sister-in-law, the carefully chosen wardrobe additions that would appear from time to time. It would never do to explain that Althea had employment as both a writer and an editor at the journal. Clara paid her for her help, and not enough, considering the role Althea played.
The duke had begun describing the house’s history. “Perhaps you would like to see it,” he offered.
“Yes, please.”
While they toured the public rooms on the ground level, she noticed again and again that, like her bedchamber, they all displayed fairly recent decorating. The rich colors, unlike what had been popular even twenty years ago, enhanced various exotic details. The morning room, for example, gave the impression of an Arabian courtyard with its distinctively pointed moldings, filigree screens, and blue and green tiles on the fireplace.
“I think this is not an obscure property rarely visited,” she said.
“It was the one we used the most. We rarely went to Drewsbarrow. This proved more convenient because it is close to town.”
She wondered if the reason they rarely visited Drewsbarrow had anything to do with the bad feelings shared with another major family in that county. Probably so. The late duke would not want to attend a county event only to find himself taking pains to avoid the other lord present.
What a tangled mess that disagreement had created. And all over a stupid piece of property. Both families surely had plenty of land.
They mounted the stairs and Stratton beckoned her to a chamber attached to the library. “This was added around ten years ago.”
Paneled like the library, this chamber contained no books. Instead a big billiards table took pride of place in the center of the space. She clapped her hands with delight. “Can we play?”
“Do you know how?”
“Not at all. My father began to teach me, but my grandmother insisted it was not ladylike, and he stopped.”
“He took you hunting and taught you how to shoot but agreed billiards was beyond the pale?”
“I think it was because others might see me with the cue, but might never see me with a musket. You can teach me, however. I am a very quick learner.”
“That I already know.” He took two cues from a heavily carved long cabinet and handed her one. “Do as I say, and you will be an expert in no time.”
“You mean soon it will seem very normal to me. Very natural.”
He did not miss the allusion. “Exactly.” He set up the balls, then used his cue to break them up. “One quick snap. See?”
“Perhaps I should practice that first.” She gathered all the balls together again and moved to stand beside him. She positioned her cue.
“You must bend in order to aim,” he said.
“Like this?”
His palm gently pressed her back. Much as it had a few hours ago. “More like that.”
She looked over and up at him. “I think I understand Grandmamma’s concern. I would not have yesterday, of course.” She tried to do as he had done and failed miserably. One of the balls bounced high enough to leave the table. “Perhaps I should let you take the lead, since you are far more experienced.”
He set the balls together again. “We will start simply. If you find you enjoy it, with time I will show you more sophisticated ways to play. There are some interesting techniques that are not for novices.”
“You are tempting me to want to do nothing else, if great mysteries await.” She bent to aim her cue.
He bent over her and repositioned her hands. “Now, aim for the center of the front ball.”
“Should I try a direct and firm thrust or one that is carefully placed and effective due to artistry more than force?”
He laughed. A smack landed on her very available rump. “You are incorrigible this evening. A very bad young lady.”
She giggled and eyed her cue’s end. “I will have to muddle through if you will not instruct me further.”
