Page 53 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

Samuel rolled his eyes but rose to his feet.

“Think on what I told you,” he said shortly, and took his leave.

CHAPTER 15

THE FOLLOWING EVENING

The paper in her glove crackled whenever she moved her hand. With a flare of annoyance, Thalia tugged off her glove once more.

The translations she intended to give Christian had been transcribed on a small square of paper which she had folded and placed in the palm of her hand. In theory, this would keep them hidden. Apparently, he had decided to trust her to take them home. That was good, because she was not sure that she dared try another midnight visit to his home.

Her reticule would not be a safe place. Jonathan had a habit of going through it to be sure that she wasn’t bringing a book or some other unsociable device. However, if she couldn’t get the paper to sit more quietly, she’d give herself away every time somebody took her hand.

She’d taken no pleasure in making the translations. Miss Emmeline Hartridge’s sharp words had wormed into her heart, despite her best efforts. Shrieking banshee. It was a compliment, really.

What hurt most of all was that the encounter cast a pall over the outing. Despite their treats and their marbles, the children remained quiet and unhappy all the way home.

Thalia’s heart ached. It would be months before they could come out for a treat again, possibly longer than that. It wouldn’t surprise her if the board chose to restrict the treat days even more.

The door creaked open, and she flinched, hastily tugging on her glove again.

“Only me!” came a familiar, fluting voice.

Some of her tension faded away. “Oh, it’s you, Augusta. Are you coming with us? Jonathan said you would be resting.”

“If your brother had his way, I would do nothing but rest,” Augusta chuckled, stepping into the room. “You would think I was entirely decrepit. He was concerned about the chills I might feel at the fireworks show. I told him that I’ve faced greater challenges than a sharp breeze, but he wouldn’t have it. I have compromised in the form of an extra shawl and a good scarf. Now, let me have a look at you.”

Smiling, Thalia turned from her own reflection to face her stepmother.

Augusta’s soft brown curls had only just begun to gray. She dressed like an older woman, with wide lace collars and dull, unflattering gowns. She had had an opportunity to remarry a couple of years ago. Some merchant had wanted to marry her, a widower himself, but she had refused.

“I have my family here already,” she had said.

Thalia was secretly relieved that her stepmother would not be leaving them. No doubt it was because of her that she and Jonathan had not yet come to blows.

Augusta reached out, smoothing Thalia’s shawl, and a slow smile crept onto her round face.

“Beautiful,” she pronounced, nodding. “You look delightful, my dear. But you’re wearing your blue silk dress. Won’t you be cold? I would recommend the lemon-colored shawl instead of this one. It will suit your complexion very well and keep you warm in the bargain.”

“You are right, of course.”

“And the yellow gloves.”

Thalia stiffened. “Oh, no, I like the blue ones.”

“Are you sure? The yellow would match better.”

“It will be dark,” she said lightly. “Nobody will notice.”

“Well, as you like. You shall look exceptionally pretty either way. You have always been beautiful, my dear, but lately you seem to glow. Others have remarked upon it, not just me.”

Thalia reddened, biting her lip. “You are too kind, Augusta.”

“Nonsense. Now, shall we sit down for a cup of tea before we leave?”

“I had hoped to make some last-minute adjustments to my dress.”

Augusta hesitated, biting her cheek. “In truth, I have something to say to you.”