The Countess by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t need to change.” I didn’t want to move away from the heady smell of butter-drenched roasted potatoes seeping from beneath one of the silver-domed platters. “I will wash my hands, all right? They do smell rather like dog. Yes, I’ll be back in five minutes, no more. Don’t eat all that delicious roasted meat yourself, my lord,” I called out over my shoulder as I dashed from the parlor. Once in my room, I quickly washed my hands, petted George, and thus had to wash my hands again, kissed Miss Crislock even though her mouth was full of her own dinner and she couldn’t kiss me back, then ran lightly back down the stairs.
    I paused by a long, narrow mirror that was on the closest wall at the bottom of the stairs. I looked at the pale girl and frowned. I had no reason to be pale.I’d been dashing about in the outdoors for nearly a full hour. What was wrong with me? I looked at the girl again. She looked very alone, very pathetic, really. But that was equally silly, I thought. I was used to being my own mistress and being alone. Now I was still my own mistress, but I was no longer alone. No, now I had a very fine husband. I remembered what Lady Fremont had said behind her hand to me when she’d come to visit the day after our engagement had been announced in the Gazette. “What a sly chit you are, Andrea Jameson.” Then she’d actually tapped her fan on my arm. It had stung, and I realized she had meant it to. “Here you have trapped one of the most eligible gentlemen about, and you refuse to tell anyone how you did it. But surely, my dear, it is too soon for you to wed? Your dear grandfather only passed from his mortal coil not six months ago? Isn’t that right? Shame on you. But I suppose since you have no mama to tell you what is right and what is impulsive—”
    The spiteful old bitch. But unlike Peter, no one had seemed to see anything amiss with my marrying Lawrence. Except that we had married too soon. But I simply couldn’t bear London any longer. I couldn’t. And it wasn’t as if I planned to go to Almack’s, or dance away the soles of my slippers at balls and wear low-necked gowns.
    No, we were going to the country, and there we would remain. My dear Miss Crislock had developed a nasty cough in London that still hadn’t gone away. It was doubtless from all the burning coal smoke. The country was the best place for both of us. And my husband, too, of course.
    Lawrence sat again by the fire, still reading the Gazette. Pratt was busy crowding our table with roasted beef, potatoes, stewed turnips, and peas. Goodness, there was even a brace of partridge tottering toward the edge of the table, and more side dishes than I cared to count.
    My stomach growled, loudly.
    Lawrence looked up and gave me a pleasant smile.
    â€œI’m glad you only took the time to wash your hands, Andrea, no, it’s Andy. Elsewise you might have collapsed in your bath from hunger.”
    That good-natured speech didn’t sound like he was overly concerned about my consequence. Everything would be all right. I’d married well. My decision was sound.
    Every dish was delicious. I couldn’t remember when I’d eaten so much. I didn’t talk, just ate and ate. I tucked away some of the delicious roasted beef into a napkin for George. I had a mouthful of some sort of partridge when I glanced up at Lawrence. He was looking in some astonishment at my refilled plate. I stopped, my spoon in midair. “Oh, goodness, I am eating more than you ever imagined a young lady eating, aren’t I? Do you believe me to be a glutton? I really don’t blame you for thinking that. It’s just that everything tastes so wonderful, and riding all day, with nothing at all to do, hollows out my stomach—”
    Lawrence raised an elegant hand to shut me down, which I did, instantly. “I don’t mean to embarrass you by staring,