A Duke of Her Own(45)

Roland's lowered eyes were, perhaps, a bit more humble than Eleanor would have liked, but that was her ungracious, sarcastic nature coming out, and as Anne had told her, she needed to curb that trait. Luckily, Champagne had a mellowing effect.

"Well, let's hear a bit of this poetry, then," Eleanor's mother allowed, in a considerably warmer voice. "Not the piece for Princess Amelia. I can't abide feeling sad. Something more entertaining, if you please."

"Here's a bit from when Romeo promises to climb to Juliet's window," Roland said. He put his right hand at his side and it just touched Eleanor's. "Juliet tells him to come before the lark with its shrill song has waked a world of dreamers. And Romeo promises to climb to her balcony in a ladder wrought out of scarlet silk and sewn with pearls."

His finger barely stroked Eleanor's wrist.

"Is that it?" Her Grace said after a moment.

"That's all I can remember," Roland said.

"Well, I like the idea of a ladder sewn with pearls," the duchess allowed. "I have a red bonnet sewn with pearls that may be something of the same idea." She turned to the squire. "Aren't you a little worried that all this talk of red silk and pearls makes your son sound like a milliner?"

"He's a clever lad," the squire said, pride evident in his voice. "He's never caused me a moment's worry."

"Well, that's more than I can say for my daughters," she said, glancing down the table. "Eleanor, you are too pink in the face. How much Champagne have you drunk?"

"Not as much as I have," Anne said cheerfully. She looked at Lisette. "Darling, don't you think you could rise now, so that we could leave the table before I slip under it?"

"Oh! Are you waiting for me?" Lisette said. "Goodness, and I'm such a slow eater. I eat like a bird."

She took another bite.

Villiers smiled down at her. "A very graceful bird, my lady."

Eleanor turned back to Roland. "That poem is beautiful."

"It's actually not that good," he told her with a twinkle. "I wouldn't even try to publish that in its current state. Too flowery, as my father said."

"Perhaps the ladder could be just silk with no pearls," Eleanor suggested. "One has to think that pearls are not only ruinously expensive, but uncomfortable underfoot."

"Depending on the weight of the climber, they might even be crushed," Villiers said, interjecting himself into their conversation again. "Is Romeo the one who's fat and short of breath? Or is that Hamlet?"

Roland threw him an unfriendly look. "That sort of verisimilitude has no place in the land of poesy."

"I'm just trying to point out a logical problem," Villiers said innocently. "Cleopatra used to pulverize pearls and put them in her wine, after all. While I've never stamped on one, I'm certain that they would shatter easily."

"Oh, I don't think so," Lisette put in. "I have any number of pearls and they aren't crushed."

"But have you stamped on any of them?" Eleanor asked.

Lisette stared at her for a moment, clearly searching her mind for the shards of crushed pearls. "No,"

she said, jumping to her feet. "Let's try it!"

Villiers actually laughed, looking up at her. "You are a true original, Lady Lisette."

Eleanor felt her lips tightening. Glancing at Roland, she saw an expression in his eyes that she guessed mirrored her own.

"Sorry," he whispered to her, "I've lived next to Lady Lisette my whole life. Do you know that my brother is betrothed to her?" And, when she nodded, "It all happened in the cradle, naturally, and it would bankrupt my father to repay her dowry. So Lancelot never comes home. We haven't seen him in six years. He does write now and then, hoping that she's run off with someone."

He held back her chair. "We're about to watch the demolishment of some pearls."



A short time later they were all in the sitting room, holding cups of tea, when Lisette's maid appeared with a string of pearls and a most disapproving look on her face. The poor woman even tried to remonstrate with her mistress.

Roland had come to sit next to Eleanor, as naturally as if they'd always known each other. He put his mouth near her ear and she could feel his breath tickle her neck. "If someone takes the pearls away she'll turn into a whirling dervish."

"What's a whirling dervish?" she said, giggling.

"A monster who terrorizes the populations of India, as I understand. Or perhaps it was Turkey.

Honestly, I hardly know, but I'm sure you can imagine."

"We must stop her," Eleanor said. "It's absurd to crush a pearl on such a pretext."