Pretty Polly by M.C. Beaton Read Free Book Online

is! It is said his chambers in Albany are cluttered with bric-a-brac andprecious objects and that there are mirrors everywhere. It is rumored Lord Byron went to one of his parties and swore never to go again. He is reported to have said, “I never will dine with a middle-aged man who fills up his tables with young ensigns and has looking-glass panels to his bookcases
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    The inclement weather means I have not seen quite as much of my dear Lady Wythe as I would wish. So when I take my oddity of pets to the park, I find I miss her very much. She has a sharp wit and yet has a generous spirit
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    The duke put down the letter and stared unseeingly across the pleasant garden. The letter was, in its way, the sort of gossipy letter he would have expected Charlotte to write. And yet a Charlotte who quoted Dr. Johnson did not tally with the image he had of her. But seven years had passed and so she had probably matured. He had misjudged her. She had probably loved Manners and her grief over his death had made her turn her mind to less frivolous ideas. He picked up the letter again.
    The letter went on to describe the wonders of the new gas lamps in parts of Pall Mall and Whitecross Street and how strange it was to stand under such a blaze of light instead of feeling one’s way under the weak lights of the parish lamps, which were always blowing out. But it was the ending of the letter that really startled the duke.
    I went, with great trepidation, accompanied by Lady Wythe, to Euston to take a ride in Mr. Trevithick’s Catch-me-who-can. It cost a shilling and we went round and round atfifteen miles an hour. Mr. Trevithick has evidently invented a steam boiler, which can work to a pressure of one hundred pounds. Lady Wythe said the speed was indecent and would cause damage to the brains of the already weak-minded, but I pointed out that the mail coaches reached that speed and my lady said that must explain why there were so many totty-headed young men about London, for they will ride on the roof of the mail coach and bribe the coachmen to let them take the reins
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    The duke tried to imagine Charlotte being interested in any piece of machinery and found he could not. Perhaps the pleasures of the Season had changed. There was no mention of balls, ridottos, drums, or routs.
    But he could not leave his estates. There was much to be done.
    Verity sat at her desk over a blank sheet of paper. She had been to Almack’s with Charlotte the evening before and wondered if the duke would appreciate a description of that. But then, he knew Almack’s famous assembly rooms in King Street very well. It was pointless to ask Charlotte for help, for Charlotte always shrugged and told her to write something amusing. Charlotte had even given up reading Verity’s letters although she waited eagerly for the duke’s replies, not because of the content of the letters but always to see if he would say something about coming to London.
    At Almack’s, there had been a great deal of gossip about the duke. Several young ladies had talked their parents into driving them to the duke’s estatesand staging a carriage accident outside his gates. But in each case, the families had been taken to the house and courteously entertained by the housekeeper while the carriage was swiftly mended. The duke had not put in an appearance. People were beginning to say he had become a recluse.
    Charlotte came in and put a letter from Denbigh down in front of Verity. “You can read it,” said Charlotte, yawning, for she had lately risen and was still in her nightdress.
    Verity looked surprised. Usually Charlotte ripped open Denbigh’s letters as soon as they arrived.
    “I have lost interest,” said Charlotte, slumping down inelegantly in a spoon-back chair by the window. “It may have escaped your notice, since you have been jauntering around London with that old fright, Lady Wythe—how did you persuade such a tartar to take you anywhere so unfashionable as the