Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“Shall we get that drink, Vivienne?” he asked.
Not trusting my voice to come out as more than a squeak, I nodded.
He offered his arm, a gesture both chivalrous and hot, and one I accepted because I didn’t want any more incidents to happen.
Not at all.
Especially not with Battle Talyn, the Duke of Burleigh in attendance.
We made it into the parlor further unscathed.
And for this, I was grateful.
CHAPTER 5
THE PLAN
“What can I get you to drink, Miss Dupree?” Fitzgibbons asked after Battle led me to a seat, I sank down into it, and Fitzgibbons had retrieved my bag and returned it to me.
“Please call me Vivienne, or Viv, or Vivi,” I invited.
He smiled. “What can I get you to drink, Miss Vivienne?”
I guessed that would have to work.
“Amaretto sour, if you have it?”
“We have everything,” he murmured and stepped away.
When he did, I took the opportunity to look around the room.
Unlike the blue salon (but a lot like the warm woods, leather furniture and bookcases filled with books of the study), this parlor eschewed any creamy creams or light colors and was done in tones of plum. It was also the smallest room I’d been in, it trended toward the vintage side of the modern/antique aesthetic the rest of the place had going on, and it had a lot of seating.
Primarily, two Regency armchairs (four in all, a coupling at each end) upholstered in a mulberry shade flanking two Duncan Phyfe sofas upholstered in raisin were arranged around an oblong, cherrywood coffee table.
Battle had deposited me in a chair.
Prudence and Chastity took a sofa.
Temperance sat dead center of the other sofa.
Which meant, when Battle returned from working with Fitzgibbons at the drinks cabinet, he gave me my beverage and sat in the chair beside me.
He could have forced himself next to Temperance, it wouldn’t have been tough, there was plenty of room, or he could have settled in one of the two chairs opposite me. They weren’t that far away.
But nooooooo.
He sat beside me.
Maybe it was because Bartholomew had settled on his belly between our two seats.
But I didn’t think so.
“I’ll go ask Cook how dinner is progressing,” Fitzgibbons said while exiting the room.
“Thank you, Fitzy,” Temperance called after him.
Prudence clapped her hands, and everyone looked to her.
But she was looking at me. “Did you two sort everything?”
“It’s all good,” I assured her.
“Told you Battie would be a pushover when it came down to it,” Prudence replied.
I wouldn’t call him a pushover, but I didn’t share that.
I said, “Your dress is freaking amazing.”
When I finished uttering those words, her whole body froze, not to mention, the air in the room went static, though I felt some pretty extreme heat flowing from Battle toward me.
But…
Oh my God.
Did I somehow put my foot in it?
“I didn’t mean—” I began.
Prudence spoke over me. “You really think so?”
I was confused.
“Well, of course. Don’t you like it?” I tried a smile. “I mean, you’re wearing it.”
“I love it,” she said like it was an admission.
“You should. It’s fabulous,” I stated.
“It’s weird,” she replied before adding, “I have weird taste.”
What Battle shared earlier about Prudence being bullied came to me, my anger at learning this refreshed, and it drove me to speak.
“I don’t know what weird is,” I returned. “I’m sure some could say Vivienne Westwood is weird, but there are few with any true knowledge of fashion who would agree. The same with Alexander McQueen, God rest his soul. John Galliano. Jean-Paul Gaultier. Would you call any of them weird?”
“Well, no.” Another admission from Prudence.
“And one could say that the costume designers who dress Sarah Jessica Parker put her in some pretty extreme getups, but she pulls them off, because they might be extreme, but they’re awesome. Do you like Sex in the City?”
“I haven’t watched it, but I know what you mean,” Prudence said.
I took a sip of my drink then brandished it while concluding, “Therefore, weird is in the eye of the judgy, bitchy, fashion-ignorant beholder, wouldn’t you agree?”
A small smile played at her lips. “Yes, I’d agree.”
“But also, it takes some courage to like what you like and not worry about what other people think about it. Though, mostly, if they have something to say, it’s probably because they’re jealous they don’t have the guts to be who they are and let that show, not giving a stitch what others might think, which takes some seriously strong ovaries to pull off, something you do effortlessly. Am I wrong?”
“I-I don’t think so, no,” Prudence stammered.
“I’m not,” I affirmed and looked around the room, but avoided Battle when I did so, and not only because of the question I asked. “So we can all agree Prudence’s dress is fantastic?”
“I already told her that, but she never listens to me,” Temperance said.
“I told you that too,” Chastity whisper-spoke directly to Prudence.