An Inadvisable Wager (The Curse of the Weatherby Ball Book 2) by Eliza Lloyd (the best novels to read txt) 📕

townhouse was built. She wore a dress he hadn’t seen, something very utilitarian. A dress that had been cleaned, mended and reworn numerous times, he guessed.

On the terrace, there were several potted lavender plants, of varying sizes and arranged in groups of three or five. Intertwined were white baby’s breath and pale purple asters with yellow centers. When there was sun in England, it shown in this spot the best. Nora reclined on one of the wrought iron loungers on which someone, probably Mintz, had stacked with comfortable cushions. She had a small, fluffy-looking throw blanket over her legs.

“Lady Carlow,” he said. “Do you mind if I join you?”

She glanced up at him, closing her book. “It’s a beautiful day, if a bit chilly, but please have a seat.”

“Mintz will be along with a tray.”

“That is very thoughtful. And now that I think about it, I could use something to quench my thirst and warm my extremities.”

“What are you reading? I’m glad you are making use of the family library.”

“No. It’s one of my mother’s diaries.”

“Oh. Something you’ve read before, I presume?”

Nora sighed, and rubbed her hand over the leather. “Many times. She had a way with words that makes it feel like I am reading poetry. At least some of it, like when she is describing the Cliffs of Dover or the stained glass in Long Melford’s church. She noticed detail.”

“It is a good reminder then. Many of us don’t have that sort of tangible memory, let alone one we can find repeated pleasure in.”

“You must have found your way up for some purpose,” Nora said.

“I have news I think you will like.” Her brows rose inquisitively. “A few boxes from the dressmaker have arrived. Some of the small fripperies, I would imagine.”

“Maybe it’s the fichus and bandeaux,” she said.

“Or a few bonnets, capes and stockings?

“Because they are easier to sew?”

“Most likely. I hope you like them.”

“I can tell you that I will, without even looking at them.”

From lively masked temptress to very cooperative, unassuming bookworm. Would a lifetime be enough to understand Nora Blasington?

Mintz arrived along with one of the kitchen servants. Mintz carried the silver tray in one hand and a foldable table in the other that he popped open between them. He lowered the tray then took a second tray from the help laden with scones, biscuits, muffins, butter, honey, jam, clotted cream and other assortments. And two small bowls, one with pickles, the other with pickled eggs.

“My lord. My lady,” Mintz said before he bowed and departed.

Since Nora was still reclined, Gabriel poured the tea. “Sugar? Cream?”

“Both. Or however you make it. I’m not particularly fussy about my tea.”

He set the teapot aside. “What? That is blasphemy, I’ll have you know.”

“Bland one moment, bitter the next. Why am I the only one who will admit this? But it warms the bones, so I never decline a serving.”

He smiled. Just another of the odd quirks in her personality. Idiosyncrasies that he quite enjoyed. “Please don’t ever repeat that in polite company or the ton will think I’ve married a heathen.”

“They must already suspect.” She accepted the cup and asked, “Two sugars, a small dollop of cream? Just so I know if I ever pour for you.”

“Yes. I prefer cream over milk. And the two sugars are a requirement. Mintz is well-trained, so he knows exactly what to put on the tea tray. I thought you would scream and scurry away as soon as you knew you had packages to open,” he commented.

“Molly is in my room writing letters. She can open the boxes and put the goods away. I’ll see them when I need to wear them.”

Gabriel reviewed the tray of foods and selected a scone on which he spread butter and jam. He took a bite and then glanced up at the light blue sky. “It’s too bad your riding habit isn’t available. We could have ridden on Rotten Row this morning.”

“We can ride at Henbury.” She sat up, placed the diary at her side, then sliced a muffin, buttering one half of it. “I feel as if I am disrupting your routine. That’s not my intent. My intent is to stay out of your way for the duration of our marriage. Certainly, while we are in London.”

“But at Henbury Hall you will get in my way?”

“I think there is a higher probability that I will be in your way there. Unless you will live at another estate.”

“Then we should leave right away. Together. Since I will live where you live,” he said, smiling at her. Could she read his humor? Did anything he said warm her heart in the slightest?

“When do we plan to travel? Reading my mother’s journal has left me with a deeper homesickness than I have experienced in many years. Maybe because I am so close to my dream.”

“Soon. In a few days.” He poured himself more tea, then leaned back, crossing his legs. “I’ve been wondering about something, Nora. You are very confident about my father’s misdeeds, yet you were only a young child when all this happened. Who told you the stories?”

“My mother.” She held up the diary.

Ah, someone Nora trusted. Someone who lived through the horrible events of her past. Had Nora reread her mother’s diaries so many times she’d conjured up the villains as a child and allowed them to grow with each passing year?

Nora continued, while Gabriel listened, waiting for answers. “Not in great deal. But as I grew older, everything became clearer. My mother was sick at the end, at about the same time Father was in Newgate, I think. It’s all a bit jumbled. Being so young was part of it. All I remember clearly was Lord and Lady Fortenay driving us away from Henbury. Timothy