The Lie and the Lady by Kate Noble Read Free Book Online Page B

“The food is new to me, and I would like Cook to know how much I am enjoying it.”
    Margaret shrugged—an inelegant motion for someone of her size. Leticia was certain she must have no idea how she looked, else she would never be so awkward.
    Her petulance did not help, of course.
    â€œI gather you are quite the horticulturalist,” Leticia tried again as she took a bite of her own meat pie (pork, naturally). “I have only heard of rhododendrons, never seen them. I believe they hail from the Orient?”
    Margaret gave that awkward shrug again. “They do,” was all she would say.
    â€œWell . . . perhaps you would show me your specimen. In daylight,” Leticia added. Perhaps rhododendrons were the one plant that wouldn’t affect her nose.
    â€œIf you like.”
    â€œThe last time I was in London, I was told there was a fascinating display of foreign plants and flowers, grown by the Horticultural Society.”
    She shrugged again.
    â€œLadies are invited to tour their grounds. If you’d like to see it, perhaps we can arrange a short trip to London—”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Margaret replied, cutting Leticia off.
    â€œBut they have excellent flower shows . . . and we could combine the trip with some shopping.”
    If a trip to the best London warehouses did not spur a nineteen-year-old girl’s interest, nothing would, Leticia thought confidently.
    As it was, an eyebrow went up, but instead of reacting with interest, she cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.
    â€œI have no wish to go to London at the moment. I am in the middle of my work,” Margaret said. “But if you wish to go, by all means do so. In fact, I think it an excellent idea.”
    Stay away as long as you like. It was unspoken, but echoed across the dining table.
    Leticia shot a smile at Sir Barty. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she purred, hoping he believed her. “I only mention shopping in London because I must purchase a wedding trousseau. It is the only place to find anything worth wearing for a wedding, I’m afraid.” She turned back to Margaret, serenely confident. “And I thought perhaps you would like a new gown for the occasion too.”
    Margaret flushed, and then turned white. Aha! thought Leticia. So she does have a care for her appearance. Even if what she cares about is looking like she doesn’t care.
    â€œI like the gowns that I have. I’m sure one will do.”
    Leticia took one calming breath, then two. It was infuriating dealing with someone whose bluntness put cudgels to shame. But she would not rise to the bait. No, she was the bigger—if not taller—person.
    â€œI’m sure you are right,” Leticia said, demurring. “We will find something appropriate.”
    Margaret’s gaze shot to her father. “May I be dismissed?”
    Sir Barty looked up from his mouthful of pork-based pie. “Hmm?”
    â€œI’ve finished eating, I have work to return to. May I be dismissed?”
    â€œI suppose,” Sir Barty grunted over his food.
    â€œDarling,” Leticia began, but Margaret was out of her chair and out the door without so much as a curtsy before she could finish her thought, let alone her sentence.
    â€œI had hoped to have some conversation after supper with her,” Leticia said. “Listen to her play pianoforte, or what not.”
    â€œMargaret doesn’t play pianoforte.”
    â€œCards, then.”
    â€œNot much for cards either,” Sir Barty replied, wiping his mouth.
    â€œNor is she much for conversation it seems—at least, not with me. Darling, I know you wish me to have some good influence over the girl, but I cannot if—”
    â€œNow, now,” Sir Barty interrupted, much like his daughter. “You two will find your way to an understanding. I’m certain of