Unbefitting a Lady by Bronwyn Scott Read Free Book Online Page B

he’d suggested she wanted to know about his kind of kissing. Just
because she hadn’t been kissed, didn’t mean she didn’t want to be. There just
hadn’t been the right opportunity, or maybe there just hadn’t been the right
man. She was twenty, after all, and girls younger than she were married with
families.
    Phaedra fiddled idly with the paperweight on her desk. Bram
Basingstoke thought he could be the right man. Was he crazy? She was a duke’s
daughter. It raised the question of whether or not he knew better. He acted like
no servant she’d ever met. There was a bit of irony to the idea that a lady took
a groom out riding with her as protection, as a chaperone, but who protected her
from the groom when he came in the form of Bram Basingstoke? In no way did he
meet Aunt Wilhelmina’s terms of an ideal chaperone. He was far too handsome, and
far too exciting with his brash brand of conversation.
    Phaedra gave a heavy sigh. If the truth be told, she was
disappointed he hadn’t kissed her in spite of her scold. It might have been nice
to know once and for all what the mystique was all about. She was tired of being
twenty and having never been kissed, at least not really kissed by a real man.
Perhaps there was still hope. Bram had left without claiming his forfeit. Until
then, she had Warbourne to think about. Phaedra grabbed a lunge line from a hook
on the wall. It was time to see what her colt could do.
    * * *
    Phaedra looked up at the clock on her wall and rubbed
the bridge of her nose. Quarter past six already! The afternoon had sped by in
an enjoyable flurry of activity. Warbourne had not disappointed. She’d worked
with him until late afternoon and then buried herself in her office writing
copious notes about the day’s training. It was all very promising and she was
tempted to send to the house for supper instead of going back. But that was the
coward’s way. It would accomplish nothing. If she didn’t show up for supper,
Giles would seek her out down here. If he meant to have a talk, nothing would
stop him.
    Phaedra rose and stretched, her stomach rumbled. She’d worked
through lunch and tea. Supper sounded nice but she’d have to hurry if she was to
be on time and dressed to meet Aunt Wilhelmina’s exacting standards. Even though
no guests were present, Aunt Wilhelmina expected the family to dress for dinner.
One never knew who might arrive at the last minute and while they could have bad form in showing up unexpectedly,
the Montagues could not. A duke and his family must always be prepared to look
the part.
    Phaedra arrived in the drawing room promptly at seven o’clock
dressed in a cream dinner gown of Spitalfields silk woven with blue and red
flowers, her hair put up in a twist with a few tendrils left down to frame her
face. Her maid, Henny, had been prepared, a gown laid out and a pitcher of warm
water already waiting in anticipation.
    Lumsden summoned them for dinner with a properness not to be
outdone by any London household. Phaedra thought it was all a bit silly since
everyone was gone but Lumsden had been with the family for years and, like Aunt
Wilhelmina, he had his own ideas about the importance of standing on ceremony
even if it was just the three of them.
    That importance extended to where they dined. The long, stately
dining table dominated the centre of the room; eight-armed candelabra of heavy
silver graced the table length atop a snowy white cloth. Lights from the candles
played across the delicate Staffordshire china and crystal wine glasses. Every
night, the room was turned out to perfection, much like its three guests, and
every night, the room remained mainly empty with only a few to enjoy its
beauty.
    It had been different in the fall. Kate had been home and
Cousin Ross had come to visit with his sister, Araminta. Phaedra had enjoyed
their company.
    Ross had made dinners lively, discussing local news with Giles
and Kate. Even Aunt Wilhelmina had been charmed by him right up