A Duke In Need Of A Wife. ANNIE BURROWS
Читать онлайн книгу.
a bit guilty about the way her Uncle Barty had manipulated them into bringing her here.
‘What you need,’ he’d said, the last time he’d been over to visit her, ‘is to get away from this devilish dull backwater and meet some people other than rustics. Go about a bit. Attend some dances. That will put the roses back into your cheeks,’ he’d prophesied. And then he’d proceeded to harangue his sister for neglecting Sofia to such good effect that they’d all decamped to the fashionable seaside town of Burslem Bay, to see if a course of sea bathing might help restore her appetite, so that she’d regain the weight she’d lost over winter.
‘Now, Ned, that isn’t fair,’ said Aunt Agnes. ‘Poor Sofia was wasting away...’
Uncle Ned snorted. ‘You wouldn’t have dreamed of spending all this money on a cottage by the sea if your pestilential brother hadn’t started throwing his weight around.’
‘But he is as much her guardian as either of us, Ned. Of course he thinks he has a say in her welfare...’
Sofia was beginning to curl up with embarrassment. It was bad enough when they argued about her as if she wasn’t there. But to do so in front of a stranger, as well?
The so-called Duke gave the bickering couple another look of disdain, before sauntering across the room and taking the chair next to hers.
‘You must wish to know how Mrs Pagett is faring,’ he said.
‘Mrs Pagett?’ Lord, but her voice had come out all squeaky. But then he was a bit overwhelming, up close. He exuded so much confidence and vitality.
Just as if he really was a duke.
‘The woman whose aid you went to when her dress caught fire.’
‘Oh, yes, thank you! How is she? Did you find a doctor for her—?’
‘Sofia, really,’ her aunt interrupted, roused from her quarrel with Uncle Ned by the sound of Sofia actually conducting a conversation which she was not supervising. ‘Remember your manners. Please forgive her, Your Grace. I am sure she does not mean to be so impertinent, peppering you with questions like that.’
‘Not at all,’ said the waiter-Duke. ‘She is merely expressing a very feminine curiosity and concern for someone whose unfortunate accident has clearly shocked her very much.’
Sofia promptly decided she liked him, no matter whether he was a waiter or a duke, or something else entirely. For nobody, apart from Uncle Barty on the rare occasions he could be bothered to visit, had ever defended her from one of her aunt’s criticisms, not to her face like that. Not in all the years she’d been living under her roof. The locals had all, without exception, expressed sympathy upon hearing that Lady Norborough had taken in the orphaned offspring of her scapegrace younger brother. And prophesied that she’d have her hands full taming the result of such a scandalous match as he’d made.
Having delivered his set-down, the waiter who claimed to be a duke turned back to Sofia. ‘My personal physician is overseeing her treatment. He thought it best to install a nurse in her home, for day-to-day care. He informs me that her injuries are not so severe as you might suppose, given the spectacle she made when her gown caught fire. The damage was confined mostly to her clothes and the lower part of her legs, particularly her right leg. And her hands when she tried to beat out the flames. There is some blistering about the face and the loss of some hair, but I am informed it will grow back. Her hair, that is.’
Sofia shuddered. ‘Oh, how awful. The poor woman. But thank goodness you got to her so quickly.’
He dipped his head in acknowledgement of the part he’d played in Mrs Pagett’s drama.
‘How I wish... I mean, is there anything I can do?’
‘Of course there is nothing you can do, you foolish girl,’ said Aunt Agnes. ‘You are not a doctor. I cannot think how you came to be mixed up in such a squalid scene in the first place.’
Nor had Sofia, to start with. But as she’d lain in bed the night before, she’d remembered how her papa had always used to say she was full of pluck. That nobody nowadays thought so stemmed, she suspected, from the horrible events surrounding her papa’s death. By the time she reached Nettleton Manor, she’d been so relieved to finally find refuge that she’d done her utmost to fit in. It had taken a couple of years before she’d been able to stop worrying that her newly discovered family were not going to throw her out if she displeased them. And by then, the habit of behaving with extreme caution had taken deep root.
She still swam, though, and climbed trees, whenever she was sure nobody would find out. And last night, when she’d seen that lady in such awful trouble, she hadn’t stopped to think about the consequences. She’d just run to help.
While all this was flashing through Sofia’s mind, the Duke had turned to give Aunt Agnes a really blistering look. ‘Your niece appears to have a very compassionate nature, Lady Norborough. I am sure her enquiries as to what she could do extended only to visiting to offer comfort, or something of that sort.’ He turned back to Sofia. ‘Am I correct?’
‘Well, no... I mean, I am sure I would not be permitted to actually visit,’ she said with regret, darting an anxious glance in her aunt’s direction. Visiting the lower orders was one of the things she said Sofia was to avoid at all costs, considering the company she’d kept in her earliest years. ‘But I did wonder if I could contribute, financially, towards her care...’
‘Now just a minute...’ This time it was Uncle Ned who was raising an objection.
‘It does your niece credit,’ said the Duke. ‘However, in this instance, Miss Underwood,’ he said, turning to her and gentling his tone, ‘the care of Mrs Pagett will be charged to the committee who organised the event. After all, they were responsible for the safety of all those who attended the supper and fireworks. Whatever it was that caused about two-thirds of them to go off simultaneously, instead of one at a time, there can be no doubt about that.’
He got to his feet and looked at her aunt and uncle for a moment or two in the kind of silence that had them all holding their breath.
‘I shall call to take your niece for an airing in my carriage, tomorrow. Be ready,’ he said, turning to her, ‘at three.’
For the second time in as many days, Oliver drew his curricle up outside Miss Underwood’s lodgings, wondering why on earth he was altering his busy schedule to squeeze in a meeting with her. He’d had no intention of doing more than assuring himself she was recovering properly from the incident at the fireworks when he’d called the day before. He certainly hadn’t intended to invite her out for a drive.
But then her aunt and uncle had talked over her so dismissively. Which was so unjust, given the bravery she’d shown in rushing to Mrs Pagett’s help.
He hadn’t liked the way her uncle had dragged her away that night.
And he hadn’t liked the way they’d both berated her for behaviour that to him seemed compassionate and caring.
That was what had prompted him to invite her to drive with him this afternoon—the chance to detach her from their overbearing, disapproving presence, so that he could talk to her freely. About Mrs Pagett.
It had nothing to do with the flare of attraction he’d felt when he’d seen her sitting in that drawing room, in full sunlight. He met dozens of pretty girls all the time. She was nothing out of the ordinary. It was just that he had a preference for slim brunettes with brown eyes, that was all. The fact that he’d seen her legs through her ripped gown had probably stoked the more primitive side of his nature, too. He had no need to worry that he was developing an unhealthy interest in her.
In fact, by the time he’d driven her through the town and along the seafront he was bound to have discovered some flaw in her personality