Wouldn't It Be Deadly by D. E. Ireland Read Free Book Online Page A

new respect. No doubt he would add Pickering to his list of people to exploit. Since Redstone was temporarily forgotten, Eliza spoke up.
    â€œMajor Aubrey Redstone is the Colonel’s friend and a noted scholar of Sanskrit poetry.”
    â€œI am honored to meet a colleague of Colonel Pickering.” Lady Gresham extended her hand. “And a scholar, too. My late husband would have been most impressed, as am I.”
    Nepommuck sniffed. “What is Sanskrit but another language? I speak thirty-two languages. As for poetry, nonsense fit only for spinsters. It doesn’t interest me.”
    â€œYou’ve never read Sanskrit poetry then, Mr. Nepommuck,” Redstone said. “It is infused with both intellectual complexity and lyrical beauty.”
    â€œI have not read it, and have no intention of doing so.”
    â€œNow, Emil,” Lady Gresham warned, “Sanskrit is an ancient and difficult language to translate, as the Colonel can tell you. I cannot believe you do not appreciate poetry. Would you have me think you do not care for Shakespeare or Tennyson?”
    Nepommuck seemed to shrink under her steely gaze. “Shakespeare is different. Who does not love Shakespeare?”
    â€œIndeed, who does not? You are instructing Miss Page, or should I say Ophelia.”
    â€œExcuse me, but I thought her name was Rosalind,” Eliza said.
    Nepommuck gazed at her with greater contempt than usual. “You are such a stupid girl.”
    â€œThat is most uncalled for,” Pickering said, his voice uncharacteristically angry.
    â€œYou owe Miss Doolittle an apology.” Redstone glared at Nepommuck.
    â€œEmil?” Lady Gresham had that steely look once more.
    The Hungarian cleared his throat. “Please accept my apology, Miss Doolittle,” he said with obvious reluctance.
    Eliza nodded, hurt both by his insult and by the fact that she didn’t understand why he had called her stupid.
    Nepommuck cleared his throat. “It is two o’clock.”
    â€œOh my. It is almost time.” Lady Gresham picked up her skirt with one hand. “Please excuse us, Colonel, Miss Doolittle. And I hope to see you again, Major.”
    Nepommuck shot all of them a surly glance before hurrying after her. “You can see now why I doubt whether the Maestro is of royal blood,” Eliza said.
    Pickering shook his head. “My dear, there are boors in every social class.”
    â€œThat man seems especially boorish,” Redstone said. “The Colonel and I may have to find you another employer.”
    â€œI can’t complain about my salary, but I don’t fancy being insulted.”
    â€œOf course not. Verena ought to show that cad the door.” Pickering remained upset, which touched Eliza. Neither of them mentioned the fact that Higgins regularly hurled sly insults at her. Then again, he treated everyone with the same arrogant impatience. “Let me ask a servant to bring us a nice pot of Earl Grey, and perhaps a bit of pastry, too. I believe someone mentioned Charlotte Russe. I know you love sweets, Eliza.”
    That was true enough. Drat Henry Higgins. She’d developed quite the sweet tooth ever since he’d plied her with those scrumptious chocolates last year as bribes for good behavior.
    â€œMaybe a tiny slice of the cake,” she replied. No need to mention it would be her fourth today.
    â€œExcellent. Then we can relax and spend time catching up.”
    â€œI would love that. We didn’t have much opportunity the last time we met.”
    They exchanged rueful glances, remembering the scene twelve days ago when Higgins and Nepommuck argued in her classroom. Pickering set off for the nearest white tent. After he left, Eliza looked over at Redstone. He was the Colonel’s friend, a scholar, and he seemed kind. He would be honest, or so she hoped.
    â€œWhat did I say that was so stupid?”
    â€œOphelia is a character in the Shakespearean