‘I knew they weren’t natural.’ More evidence of his lack of gentlemanly manners.
‘No ladies’ curls are natural. We all go to bed like this.’
‘Why?’
‘Because curls are becoming.’
‘Ah. I see.’ Although he plainly didn’t. Still smiling, he leant forward and flicked one of them. ‘They look painful. Do they hurt?’
Yes.‘No. I barely notice them.’
‘But they are dragging your eyebrows up. You look permanently startled.’ His lips twitched again. ‘Do you wake up with your face aching?’
‘Oh, go ahead. Laugh. Have your fun. I doubt amerefarmer from Norfolk would understand the world I live in.’
She had meant to offend him, remind him his manners were sadly lacking and to put him back in his place, yet he didn’t appear the slightest bit offended. ‘You poorthing! I never realised how the other half suffered. I’m curious—without those...’ he gestured to her head ‘...monstrosities, what does your hair really look like?’
‘It is as straight as a poker. Just like my sister’s.’ Why had she confessed that?
‘Bella has lovely hair.’
‘Yes, of course she does, but...’ Having to justify her choice of hairstyle was ridiculous, so she clamped her mouth shut in case she said things she would rather he didn’t know. Bella didn’t have to be persistently beautiful every waking minute of the day. She had her man. And her enormous brain and copious talents.
‘But you are theIncomparable, therefore your hairhasto curl. Your clotheshaveto be perfect. Everynuancedmovement has to convey your sheer perfection.A diamond of the first water.’ He wafted his large hand in the air like a ballet dancer. Mocking her. Earlier he could barely string two words together and now suddenly he was capable of the most cruel and cutting insults. More cruel because they were completely accurate. The insufferable, insightful man.
‘Go back to planting your turnips!’ Clarissa stomped to the door.
‘It was turkeys actually, not turnips. But mostly geese, if you must know. Norfolk is famous for its poultry. Every year my grandfather would walk them to London wearing little leather boots to protect their feet. Always made me laugh as a child. Birds in boots.’ He said this conversationally, his deep voice slurring slightly. Clarissa turned against her better judgement and saw him slumped a little and smiling soppily. It was the brandy loosening his tongue, she realised. She had given him rather a lot of it. ‘Would you read to me? You have a lovely voice.’
‘No, I will not.’ The suggestion alone had brought out a cold sweat and panic. ‘It would be wholly improper.’
‘Can you at least pass me the shortbread before you leave? I daren’t move and I’m starving.’
Of their own accord, her feet moved to do his bidding. She snatched up what was left of the original biscuit and thrust it at him, only to have him snap it in half and pass a piece right back. ‘It was your midnight feast. I’d feel guilty if I ate it all. Does shortbread taste better with jam?’ His eyes flicked to the jar.
‘Everything tastes better with jam.’ To prove her point she dipped the edge of hers in the pot and then held it out for him to do the same. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then nodded.
‘You are right. It does. But if you have such a sweet tooth, why did you refuse the trifle at dinner?’
‘I didn’t feel like trifle.’
‘Of course.’ He said it with a disbelieving note of sarcasm before taking another bite while those dark eyes scrutinised hers. ‘Is he worth it?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Your duke? Is he worth depriving yourself of desserts and trying to sleep with all that nonsense on your head?’
This man was too insightful. ‘He’s aduke.’
‘Dukes are merely men in finer waistcoats.’
Clarissa smiled then, she couldn’t help it. Like this, a little bit tipsy and suddenly vocal, Mr Leatham was quite charming. ‘And there speaks a man with little experience with the breed.’
‘I have lots of experience with dukes. My father was one.’
The last bite of biscuit paused midway to her lips. ‘You jest!’
‘Not at all. My father was a very illustrious duke.’ He waved his hand in the air loftily. ‘Very well connected at court—although I’m not supposed to talk about it or mention his name alongside mine. It’s a big secret. He thought himself most benevolent in quietly acknowledging me behind closed doors and providing for me financially. I received a gentleman’s education, I’ll have you know. I even went to Cambridge... Never had a seat at his table though. Appearances and all that.’
