Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince by Jennifer Moore Read Free Book Online

waiting to see how she would answer.
    Lord Featherstone apparently thought that his words were being well received and continued. “It is appropriate that a young lady not concern herself with matters better left to gentlemen, focusing instead on maintaining a pleasant disposition. But certainly a bit of reading in order to add to her competence as a conversationalist is to be seen as a benefit. It is as King Henry said, ‘The empty vessel makes the quietest sound . ’”
    Meg blinked. Did the earl just misquote the bard? This was an atrocity that she could not allow to pass without setting the record straight. “Sir, I am afraid you misunderstand Shakespeare’s meaning. The boy in Henry V is musing on the babbling of the French soldier and the fact that in all his speaking the soldier said little. The boy paraphrases the proverb, ‘The empty vessel makes the greatest sound,’ meaning those with the most to say are often the least intelligent, while a wise person does not need to use so many words.”
    The moment the utterance left her mouth, Meg knew she had made a mistake. Lord Featherstone’s face reddened, and his eyes narrowed. Meg glanced down the table, relieved to see that Daniel was too occupied with Helen to have overheard her blunder. The discomfort at their end of the table became palpable until Lady Featherstone took the attention away from Meg by speaking rather loudly.
    “Colonel Stackhouse, Her Grace tells me you have been in Chelsea recovering from an injury.”
    Meg was astonished. Surely her correction of the earl’s misunderstanding of Shakespeare was not as gauche as bringing up a man’s deformity.
    The colonel glanced up at Lady Featherstone, gazing flatly at her for a moment. “I should think the answer to your question is rather obvious, madam.” He directed his attention back to his plate.
    Apparently Lady Featherstone was not to be deterred by the colonel’s clear wish to terminate the discussion. “And does your wound still give you discomfort, sir?”
    “Discomfort?” The colonel set his silverware down and leaned back in his chair. “Madam, I was stabbed through the face with a French bayonet that flayed open my skin and popped my eyeball like a grape. I think discomfort is a rather mild term for such a sensation, don’t you?”
    The ladies at the table gasped, and Lord Featherstone whispered, “Oh my,” as he put his hand over his mouth.
    Meg, however, leaned forward in anticipation of a ghastly tale. This was quickly becoming the most entertaining evening of her stay thus far, and she didn’t want to miss a moment of it.
    Colonel Stackhouse glared at Lady Featherstone, but to her credit, the countess did no more than raise her brow. “I am quite skilled with herbs and ointments, sir,” Lady Featherstone said, her voice remaining even and calm. “If you would allow me to inspect your injury, I believe I could create a salve that will relieve any itching and ease the soreness.”
    “That will not be necessary,” the colonel said, returning to his meal.
    “Mother, really . . . ,” the earl said.
    Lady Featherstone did not acknowledge her son or the shock in his voice. “Oh come, Colonel. If you think to spare my genteel sensibilities, you are speaking to the wrong woman. A salve will even help the scar to heal much more smoothly.”
    The colonel looked as if he would argue but perhaps did not want to draw more attention to himself by continuing to refuse. A war seemed to take place in his expression before he finally said, “Very well, madam. I thank you for your concern.”
    The servers began to clear the plates, and following Serena’s lead, the ladies excused themselves to the drawing room. As they were leaving, Lord Vernon spoke up for the first time since the company had sat down to supper. “At which battle did you receive your wound, Colonel?”
    Meg slowed down, hoping to hear some of the gruesome details.
    “It wasn’t a battle at all. Only a minor