A Gentleman Never Tells by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online

husband adores my hair. My point is that Joshua didn’t give a damn what ­people were calling me. We danced and then he showed up the next morning and asked Papa for my hand.”
    â€œJoshua is a prince among men,” Lizzie said, letting her tone reveal her suspicion that her brother-­in-­law was the only man of his ilk.
    â€œI was not the only young woman in the marriage mart bequeathed with an ugly nickname,” Cat said, catching a drop of honey on her finger.
    Lizzie took another bite of her scone, but it tasted like sawdust and regret, so she put it down. “Oh, yes?”
    â€œJosie was given a horrible label in her first season as well, which gave us an instant bond. Yet now she is happily married to the Earl of Mayne. Public humiliation didn’t stop him from marrying her.”
    Presumably Josie was so beautiful that the earl took one look and fell at her feet, just as Joshua had at Cat’s. Unfortunately, no man had ever shown an inclination to sprawl on the ground in front of Lizzie.
    â€œSo what was Josie’s sobriquet?” she asked.
    â€œSobriquet? Darling, you really must stop reading so much. It makes you sound like a bluestocking.”
    Lizzie rolled her eyes.
    â€œThe Scottish Sausage,” Cat said. “Isn’t that dreadful? Between us, I’d rather be a Wooly Breeder. Do you want the last scone, or shall I have it?”
    â€œYou have it.”
    â€œI’m so hungry that I’m beginning to wonder whether I might be enceinte again,” Cat confided.
    â€œThat would be wonderful!” Lizzie said, meaning it. She didn’t want children herself, but she was very fond of her little nephews.
    â€œOdd, though. It’s been four years.”
    â€œI hope you have a girl next,” Lizzie said. “I must say, I think the real oddity is that you and the countess became good friends on the basis of your wretched experiences.”
    â€œNo, here is the truly odd thing. Mr. Berwick—­Oliver—­is a member of the group who gave me the label Wooly Breeder. He didn’t make it up, though. That was Darlington.”
    Lizzie’s mouth fell open. “And you invited him to the house?”
    â€œWell, of course I did,” Cat said. “I’ve never seen the point of holding grudges. That grudge you’re holding against your husband is only hurting you.”
    Lizzie chose to ignore the fiftieth piece of sisterly advice to come her direction in the last day or so. “Do you suppose that Mr. Berwick will grace me with a nickname?”
    â€œThe Woeful Widow?” Cat asked. “I doubt it. He apologized in the most magnificent way for his youthful foolishness.”
    Adrian had never even considered apologizing. Why should he? To his mind, he was practically doing charity work when he married her.
    â€œBut now you have a title,” he would say, when Lizzie complained. “You were a mere sheepherder’s daughter, or as near as makes no difference, and I’m a member of the peerage. If anything, you owe me .”
    Her father owned hundreds of sheep and acres of land, not to mention the wool mills, but there had been no point in explaining the distinction to Adrian. He didn’t care.
    Cat hopped up. “There’s the last scone gone. Come along, Lizzie. I have a trunk’s worth of clothing to show you.”
    â€œA trunk ! I thought you said a gown or two.”
    â€œPerhaps a few more,” her sister said unrepentantly. “What’s more, I brought back a French seamstress to make adjustments. You really ought to take her as a lady’s maid. I can’t imagine how you have survived without one.”
    Lizzie got up reluctantly. “The upstairs maid is good with buttons,” she said, glancing down at her lavender morning gown, which was embellished with a long row of pearl buttons.
    â€œYour gown was designed to be worn by a widow who lives with seven cats