Desperate Duchesses
“And she may be pardoned two.” The door to the drawing room swung open, but the young woman sitting with her back to the door took no notice.
“Two?” an exquisitely dressed young man remarked. “I gather that Frenchmen are a happy race of men. They seemed so petulant to me when I was last there. It must be the embarrassment of riches, like having three custards after supper.”
“Three lovers are considered rather too many,” the woman replied. “Although I have known some who considered three to be a privilege rather than an abundance.” Her low laugh was a type that tickled a man’s breastbone and even lower. It said volumes about her personal abilities to manage one—or three—Frenchmen with aplomb.
Her husband closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.
The young man glanced up and came to his feet, bowing without extraordinary haste. “Your Grace.”
“Lord Corbin,” the Duke of Beaumont replied, bowing. Corbin was just to Jemma’s taste: elegant, assured and far more intel igent than he... admitted.MoreLess
“Two?” an exquisitely dressed young man remarked. “I gather that Frenchmen are a happy race of men. They seemed so petulant to me when I was last there. It must be the embarrassment of riches, like having three custards after supper.”
“Three lovers are considered rather too many,” the woman replied. “Although I have known some who considered three to be a privilege rather than an abundance.” Her low laugh was a type that tickled a man’s breastbone and even lower. It said volumes about her personal abilities to manage one—or three—Frenchmen with aplomb.
Her husband closed the door behind him and stepped into the room.
The young man glanced up and came to his feet, bowing without extraordinary haste. “Your Grace.”
“Lord Corbin,” the Duke of Beaumont replied, bowing. Corbin was just to Jemma’s taste: elegant, assured and far more intel igent than he... admitted.MoreLess
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