Lessons in French by Laura Kinsale Read Free Book Online Page B

maid plucked at the ends of Callie's own red braids
    and began to unravel and spread them over her shoulders.
    "Elegant," Hermey said. "Well, that's to be expected, I'm sure. He's Madame's son, after
    all. And a duke, or whatever sort of title they have over there now." She stopped her
    agitated pacing and made a sweeping flourish with her thumb and pinkie finger, as if she
    were taking a pinch of snuff. "So very continental!" There was a f lush to her cheeks, a
    high color that was unlike her.
    "Crushingly modish, I assure you," Callie said lightly.
    "I'm sure you took him in dislike, then. It was good of you to offer to help."
    Callie did not correct her. "I intend to do what I can for them," she said merely. "I mean
    to find some servants and see that the house is put to rights."
    "Of course." Hermey made a distracted wave of her hand. She turned away and turned
    back again. "I was surprised to find you gone, though. I was looking for you after the
    waltz."
    "Yes, I told Mrs. Adam—"
    "I know. It's no matter. Only—" She hugged herself. A half smile of excitement curved
    her lips. "Your hair is so pretty when it's down! It looks like copper waves."
    "Hermey." Callie tilted her head quizzically. "What mystery are you keeping from me?"
    "Sir Thomas is coming to call on Cousin Jasper tomorrow!" she said breathlessly. "He
    told me so!"
    Callie smiled at her. "Already!"
    "Oh, Callie!" Hermey clasped her hands together, chewing her knuckles. "I'm so
    afraid!"

    "Afraid? Of what, pray?"
    Hermione took the hairbrush from the maid's hands. "Be so good as to go upstairs,
    Anne," she said primly. "I'll do that."
    The maid curtsied and left the room. Hermey watched the door close behind her and
    then began to brush out Callie's hair. Callie could feel her sister's fingers trembling.
    "Hermey!" she exclaimed. "What are you afraid of?"
    "It's just that—he said… he said he would do himself the honor of calling on the earl
    tomorrow. That means he's going to ask, doesn't it, Callie?"
    "I should think so," Callie said. "He had no business saying such a thing to you if he
    didn't mean it."
    "I'm twenty," Hermey said. "Twenty! And it's my first offer."
    "Well, you needn't make anything of that. You couldn't come out while Papa was so ill,
    and then you had to wait out the last year in mourning. You haven't even had a season."
    "I know. But I'm almost—" She stopped, looking conscious.
    "On the shelf?" Callie drew her hair over her shoulder, working at a tiny tangle.
    "Goose! I'm on the shelf, not you. You'll have your choice of suitors if you wish to wait
    until spring and go up to London. I hope you won't leap at this one if you don't like him."
    "I like him," Hermey said. "Very much!"
    Callie parted her hair and caught it, winding it about her head. Sir Thomas Vickery
    seemed a kind and quiet gentleman, the perfect sort of person to be perpetually an
    undersecretary. He rather reminded Callie of herself, which did not impress her greatly,
    but she could find nothing to object to in him. Indeed, she could only be glad that
    Hermey, who was a little flighty, seemed to prefer a steady man. And he was drawn to
    her sister's vivaciousness no doubt—which would be just as well if the three of them
    were to form a household. At least there would be one person to make conversation at the
    dinner table.
    "Well, then," she said. "If you like him that much, I advise you to wear that blue straw
    bonnet tomorrow and be in your best looks. I don't know how he can help himself but
    propose if he sees you in it."
    "I think he will," Hermey said. "I know he will." She went and sat against the bed, still
    holding her wrap about her and shivering as if she were cold. "No, anything but blue,
    Callie. I think I will wear the apple green. Or the spotted lilac with the cream ribbon. Oh,
    I can't think. I don't care what I wear!"
    "Calm yourself, my dear," Callie said at this astonishing statement. Hermey always
    cared what she wore. "It's really not so