A Duke of Her Own(27)

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "More likely a field of carrot tops."

A peal of laughter answered her, and they all looked up and saw Lisette lightly running down the stairs. For a moment they just stared up at her, and then Eleanor gave a little wave. She hadn't seen Lisette in seven or eight years, but if anything, she had grown only more exquisite. Eleanor had always envied her hair; it was pale, pale blond, and naturally formed beautiful ringlets. Her face was the peaceful oval of a medieval madonna. Most of the time.

"Ellie!" Lisette dashed down the stairs and gave Eleanor a hug, and another hug. She turned with a similar cry to Anne.

The duchess stiffened at the first hug, and became rigid by the third. When Lisette finally dropped her arms from Anne, Eleanor said hastily, "My mother, the Duchess of Montague."

"It's been years, hasn't it?" Lisette said, smiling at the duchess with sunny charm as she dropped a shallow curtsy. "But I couldn't forget such a beautiful chin as you have, Your Grace. Your skin has loosened slightly, around the jowls, but really, hardly at all."

Her mother appeared stunned into silence, so Eleanor put in, "Surely you remember that Lady Lisette is an enthusiastic painter, Mother."

"Oh, please, no ladies here," Lisette said. She waved her fingers in the air and they saw that they were splotched with red, blue, and purple. "I have been painting backdrops for a village play. I can find you a role, if you'd like."

Eleanor couldn't help smiling. That was just like Lisette. She would hop out of a seven-hour carriage ride and throw herself into painting backdrops, and it wouldn't occur to her that others might not be so eager.

"I must return to the back garden," Lisette said. "I'll look forward to dining together. Popper, do put our guests somewhere, won't you?" Without further ado, she turned and left.

Her mother's face contorted in such a manner that Eleanor knew precisely what she thought of Lisette's manners.

Popper wrung his hands again. "If I'd known you were coming, Your Grace, I would have made sure that the house was decent."

"If you would be so good as to allow me to retire," the duchess stated with a quiet ferocity. "I have a powerful headache coming on. I expect it has something to do with the reek of paint in this house.

And I'll thank you to take those sheets down, Popper. I hardly think Lady Marguerite would approve."

"Yes, Your Grace," Popper said. "Of course, Your Grace. Please, follow me."

A few minutes later Eleanor, Anne, and Popper tiptoed out of the duchess's bedchamber, leaving her in the tender care of two maids, who were busy fanning her forehead and mixing various restorative powders.

"I'm afraid I shall have to put you in the other wing," Popper said anxiously, as he and Eleanor walked down the corridor, having deposited Anne in a room next to their mother. "We don't often have visitors, and many of the rooms are draped in Holland cloths. I shall remove the sheets immediately, of course. The look on the Duchess of Montague's face!" He shuddered. "I arrived here from the household of the Marquess of Pestle. I am not

ignorant of a well-ordered household."

"Of course not," Eleanor said soothingly. She had a sudden thought. "I do believe that the Duke of Villiers may pay Lady Lisette a visit today or tomorrow, Mr. Popper, so you might want to prepare another chamber."

He turned even paler, if that were possible. "And her aunt's gone visiting! Perhaps I'll send a note to Lady Marguerite and beg her to return this very evening."

"Likely a good idea," Eleanor agreed. "Would you mind having my dog brought to my chamber, Mr.

Popper?"

He starting wringing his hands again. "A dog? There is a dog?"

"Yes," she said. "My dog. He's a small pug, cream-colored with a black muzzle. One of our groomsmen has him, no doubt."

The butler took a step closer. "If you don't mind my saying so, Lady Eleanor..."

Eleanor put on her mother's best quelling expression, and Mr. Popper shifted back immediately.

"Yes?"

"Lady Lisette is frightened by dogs."



"She won't be afraid of Oyster. He's a pug, the kind that doesn't grow very big. He'll be far more afraid of Lisette than she will be of him. Everyone loves Oyster." She waved him off toward the stairs.

That was true, too. Except for the people he peed on, of course. But there hadn't been all that many.

By the time Eleanor bathed and Oyster had arrived, she was feeling better. She put on a dressing gown and scooped Oyster into her lap to sit by the fire. He was really too fat ^ to sit comfortably in anyone's lap, but he loved it, and she loved it. So they sat together while he squirmed and wriggled, and got short bristly hairs all over her lap.